#the frontiers saga

[sofasofia]

Commission for @/ufemewwexub from twitter!

[easternmind]

The weird and wonderful history of Kowloon as a digital interactive space - Part I

The Kowloon Walled City was one of the most emblematic locations in Hong Kong due to its irregular, fast-paced and largely ungoverned growth within a minute parcel of land. During the occupation of Hong Kong Island by the British in the mid 18th century, the Qing authorities surrounded the area with walls, turning it into a strategic position from where to closely inspect the foreign nation's covert activities. Almost a century later, during World War II, the area was seized by the Japanese, who tore down the walls and repurposed the stone for the construction of a nearby airport.

After the war, China would eventually regain possession of the city, though the disinterest of local authorities in addressing its increasing social disturbances placed it in a downward path to a state of utter degradation. By the 1970s, Kowloon had become the epicentre of Hong Kong's criminal underworld, dominated by a handful of its most vicious Triads.

Towards the last years of its existence, the ancient settlement was as a precarious heap of concrete, sheltering nearly half a million people within less than seven acres of land. Cultural and political changes in China made it increasingly difficult for this urban anomaly to remain unaddressed. In the late 1980s, an action plan was put together aiming to relocate its inhabitants and reconvert the real estate into an inner-city park. Stories about residents refusing to leave their unsafe and unsanitary homes were featured prominently in newspapers, baffling readers all over the world. Once the single most densely populated area in the world, this enclave was an architectural aberration whose disconcerting aesthetic influenced numerous works of art in different fields of creation; including a small yet consequential number of video games that briefly reference or prominently feature this abominably transfixing space.

九龍島 (Kyu-Ryu-Tou) - Starcraft - 1986

The year is 2025. An arms dealer escalates the tensions between East and West by developing a genetic weapon in a secret base at Kowloon Island. The United Nations react by sending in their best man, Jamie Starr. Unrelated to the Walled City itself, the first game to be located in the Kowloon peninsula - and indeed include the name as a part of its title - is this obscure turn-based RPG, Kyu-Ryu-Tou for the NEC PC88 and FM-77 machines. The game is a sequel to Shangai, released the year before, featuring the same protagonist. Starcraft would also go on to produce a third instalment in 1987 named TO.KY.O. Clearly there wasn't much regard here from the developers part for geographic accuracy, as Kowloon is depicted here as being an island. While Hong Kong's southern territory is composed of an actual island, all the different areas named Kowloon are located in the mainland.

Riot City - Westone - 1991

One of the most shameless specimens among a relatively long list of Final Fight clones, Riot City contains subtle references to Kowloon, though never referring to it by name. Two narcotics detectives are assigned with the mission of dismantling a cartel running a crime-ridden located in fictional Riot Island. This recurring yet geographically nonsensical notion of Kowloon as an island comes up here, yet again. The final moment of the introduction sequence for this minor Sega arcade success shows both protagonists approaching a tight cluster of buildings whose source inspiration is quite unmistakable. Because Westone maintained ownership of most of this production's intellectual property, a later port to the PC Engine entitled Riot Zone was made possible with the help of Hudson soft. Kowloon's Gate - Zeque - 1997

Reviving the Walled City through the lens of cybermystic surrealism, Kowloon's Gate is a dense, daunting adventure masterfully capturing the slum's dark and narrow recesses. This 1997 Japanese Playstation exclusive spans across four discs of unparalleled full motion 3D CGI spectacle, alternating with real-time 3D dungeons brimming with outlandish characters and concepts deeply inspired by Chinese history, geography and cultural traditions.

Ironically, Zeque managed to embed the theme of Feng-Shui, the ancient geomantic art seeking harmony between the individual and their surrounding space, into a story set in the world's most historically untidy district.

SaGa Frontier - Square - 1997

SaGa Frontier takes place in a solar system named The Regions, composed of multiple inhabited worlds for the player to explore, each with its different degree of civilizational development and culture. One of these planets goes by the suggestive name Kūron. Its pervasive neon light signs, food stalls, makeshift cabins and rooftop scaffolding instantly evoke the memory of China’s so-called city of darkness.

Shadow Hearts - Sacnoth - 2001

Shortly after the release of Koudelka, Sacnoth's initiated the development of Shadow Hearts, the first episode from a cult RPG trilogy exclusively designed for the Playstation 2. In good Japanese fashion, the game proposes an anachronistic yet visually suggestive depiction of Kowloon, portraying its architectural style and degree of decay as it existed in the late twentieth century, despite the fact that the game's events take place during the nineteen twenties.

Just as noteworthy is the almost complete absence of any inhabitants, which inadvertently make this portrayal of the quarter eerily reminiscent of the state in which it was found circa 1993 or 1994, as local authorities brought the long, arduous eviction project to a close.

Shenmue II - SEGA AM2 - 2001

Shenmue II exhibits the most complete and period-accurate video game representation of Kowloon to date. While more recent games featuring this area may represent a number of its aspects with the aid of improved visual fidelity, none features it with such depth as this masterpiece of masterpieces. More than mere background decoration, Kowloon exists in the Shenmue series as a crucial, climacteric element of its modern epic narrative.

It is a well known fact that Yu Suzuki and his team conducted extensive research of the region so as to achieve a result that impresses even to this day. It must be noted, however, that they have similarly taken a fair share of creative liberty when converting the area to best align with the themes they wished to explore. Further reading is required for a more complete context in this regard, namely how this area ties with an early Dreamcast tech demo design which fans lovingly named Tower of Babel. Ostensively, technical limitations did curtail the degree of precision in which the surrounding area could be replicated. The aerial view from the cutscene in which Ryo Hazuki arrives on location places Kowloon at an imaginary degree of elevation over surrounding vegetation. In the year of 1987, during which the game is set, the actual enclave stood perfectly levelled with a myriad of other modern buildings, undoubtedly more than could be reproduced under the circumstances. These trifling considerations aside, Shenmue II entirely succeeds in capturing the vibrant life and mesmerizing beauty of the destitute and decayed urban agglomeration, in a way that it was deemed entirely impossible at the time of its release.

For reasons entirely related to per post content limitations imposed by Tumblr, this article will be continued in PART II.

[whoishotteranimepolls]

"Who's Hotter?" Trans Woman of Anime and Manga: Commemorating a Trans Woman Being Elected to the US Congress

[thefirstknife]

I haven't been able to play the latest update yet so I gotta ask. With all this talk of the winnower, have we found out that its a separate entity to The Witness, or are we just finding out more about how the Witness operated?

It's confirmed now that it is a separate entity! It is identified as a speaker on the seasonal artifact. Like it straight up says "The Winnower" after a quote.

I've always believed them to be separate, my only issue was that we had no solid proof that the Winnower is even a real thing, since the only indications of it were various religious texts and other people's beliefs and unreliable narrators. Even the stuff in Books of Sorrow where something spoke to Oryx, it was really difficult to find genuine proof of what it is. Could've been the Witness adopting a persona to trick Oryx, could've been just various Books of Sorrow lies or unreliable information, could've been Savathun scribbling lies, or something completely different. Books of Sorrow are such an old and biased text in general, with many different narrators.

Unveiling was another contentious text, mostly because of the same things. It was left for us in the Pyramid after we spoke to a clone of ourselves made by the Witness and it was clearly a propaganda text to make us join the Witness, but also it did imply that the text was written by an entity called the "Winnower." However, that could, once again, haven been the Witness. I might still be more in the camp that Unveiling was the Witness' attempt to emulate the higher power it believed in (the Winnower) and using that to sway us to its side, but we don't really know now. The Witness further said (in TFS, largely in the raid) that it believed in the Winnower and considered itself to be its "first knife," but then when we got Nacre, the Winnower (more or less confirmed now) said that it didn't really care for the Witness. Or, at the very least, that the Winnower is not exactly a thing that deliberately sends out others to do its bidding; it kinda relies on people simply choosing to do so by themselves:

This great, beloved cosmos. Always decaying, always finding that same old lovely pattern, despite every candle-flame burning amid the flowers. A billion electrons taking the path of least resistance. In Darkness or in Light, someone is always making my choice. Be seeing you.

An interesting piece of Nacre that caught my eye originally was that the narrator claimed that it "never much cared for the change of the rules," but in Unveiling it very much did. So either Unveiling was written by someone merely interpreting the Winnower who got it wrong, or possibly something else. And one of the lore tabs from the new grimoire (that currently isn't in the game), has this:

The rules changed - a little. The pattern altered - but a micron. I got used to it, as they say. People can get used to anything, and the same holds true for concepts that have existed before and after time itself, though it may take an eon or twenty.

This implies that the Winnower changed its mind which means that Unveiling may still be written by it. Or not! It's intriguing. As I said many times, the unreliability of Unveiling is actually one of my favourite parts of the whole lore book and why it's my fave. I don't think that getting this explained would really "ruin" it or anything, but the unreliability is a part of the charm for sure.

Note also another one of my fave things about the Winnower and that's the bit where it calls itself a "concept that has existed before and after time itself." This, combined with the Heresy artifact, gives us a bit more information to work with while also fully confirming that it exists; even if it exists just as a concept.

But now that the Winnower has been explicitly stated as a speaker in lore without any ambiguity:

"The world is not built on the laws they love… Not with peace, but by victory at any means." —The Winnower

... Now a lot of stuff is much different when discussing it all. I'm actually now more inclined to believe that Oryx spoke to the Winnower then, rather than the Witness, now that we have proof the Winnower can communicate directly and would have an interest in doing so. Obviously the tone of voice of the speaker in Books of Sorrow always matched the Winnower, but it was never outside of the possibility that it was just the Witness mimicking what it essentially viewed as its deity.

At one point, especially after the writers heavily implied that Unveiling was a deliberate propaganda text written and given to us by the Witness, I thought that it was settled and that they decided to consolidate it all with the Witness, including the Books of Sorrow bits, but now that they're expanding it to the Winnower, I do think that Oryx and Unveiling were Winnower; even if the Witness may have been involved somehow, maybe as a delivery mechanism, especially for Unveiling. I like the idea of the Witness having somehow encountered the Winnower at some point, maybe like Oryx, and used that experience to essentially claim to be "the first knife" and write the text for us to make us believe in this philosophy like it was convinced. The Witness definitely believed itself to be important to the Winnower, enacting its will and philosophy across the universe as its "first knife." Even if the Winnower didn't really directly order that or care about it, other than just using it as proof that "someone is always making my choice."

I'm assuming we'll learn more during Heresy. I personally don't want the Winnower to become an enemy we fight one day, as I prefer this idea of an ambiguous observer from outside of the universe who is patiently waiting to see how "the game" unfolds; both "the game" as what it likes to call this version of the universe and also "the game" as in the 4th wall breaking sense. We'll see though! I do think it's settled beyond doubt now that the Winnower is its own thing, we just don't really know what it is. I am very interested to know more about its relationship to the Witness though, if we ever get more on that, because I'd love to hear more about it from the Winnower itself. The Witness was obviously biased and had many claims that I find dubious in nature.

Exciting situation overall! Really loved the proper confirmation for the Winnower being the speaker for the artifact because as much as I was always intrigued by the Winnower, I found it hard to talk about it like it's some confirmed character/entity. Speculation aside, we truly had no solid evidence until now, but now we do and that's really cool.

[who-do-i-know-this-man]

⚠️Vote for whomever YOU DO NOT KNOW⚠️‼️

[autumngracy]

Humble Bundle is offering a charity manga bundle with proceeds going to benefit the Book Industry Charitable Foundation!

For a minimum of $25, you receive the following:

Vinland Saga 1-13 (most current volume; series ongoing)

Witch Hat Atelier 1-11 (missing the one most current volume; series ongoing)

A Silent Voice 1-7 (full series; series complete)

Nina the Starry Bride 1-10 (missing the lastest two volumes; series ongoing)

The Drops of God 1-44 (full series; series complete)

Shangri-la Frontier 1-12 (missing the four most current volumes; series ongoing)

Medalist 1-8 (missing the one most current volume; series ongoing)

Blue Period 1-13 (missing the two most current volumes; series ongoing)

A Sign of Affection 1-7 (missing the three most current volumes; series ongoing)

What Did You Eat Yesterday 1-10 (missing the eleven most current volumes; series ongoing)

(Smaller bundles are available for a cheaper price, but exclude the later volumes and/or more popular titles)

Books are available as both PDFs and ePUBs for use on any device.

Offer ends February 22nd, 2024, at 2pm.

[zerolockfan]

Captain Harlock fashion

Harlock is a real fashion icon throughout the series... here's a collection in a somewhat chronological order

[lemurballing]

too lazy to retype this all

[knyaz-myshkin]

SaGa Frontier character artwork by Tomomi Kobayashi

[cellarspider]

10/30 The team puts their foot in it

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to Prometheus, the movie that makes me want to use the “Leave it” command I’ve taught the family dog.

Apologies if the screenshots are hard to visually parse on this one, this part of the movie is not meant for viewing on a bright, sunny day. May I recommend the alt-text? I've got image descriptions in there, as well as rambles that almost double the word count of these posts.

Also, your daily reminder: Go into your blog settings, scroll down to "visibility", and turn off 3rd party data harvesting! Do it! Happiness is stored in the not-getting-comodified!

My antipathy toward the archaeologists was reaching unprecedented proportions. The only character I didn’t fault for putting his hands on everything like a two-year-old: the literal two-year-old android, David.

Is there a long and dumb history of infantilizing dudes’ behavior? Yes. Was it very funny to see the archaeologists suddenly freak out because someone else was getting too handsy with the alien archaeological finds? Also yes! 

David opens the door, having to climb up a collapsible ladder to comfortably reach the controls, which is a nice touch. The next room contains the head of the decapitated Engineer, and also

I don’t know whether the set designers put this together prior to the decision that this would be where they put the decapitated body, but in hindsight, it seems a little on the nose. What the set wants to communicate is a religious feel–an idol of some kind, delicate reliefs on the walls that some consider to be plot holes because they look xenomorph-y, and a bunch of black urns.

The visual intent, delivered beautifully but with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, is that this is the room where shit will begin to go down. It’s a refined miniature of the egg room in Alien. Something is going to get inappropriately intimate with a man’s face here.

I suppose we are meant to find it a plot twist when that happens later, and not now, but I was still experiencing Archaeological Rage at this point.

Despite telling David not to open the door, they wander in like utter lemons, breathe all over everything, and are surprised when this has consequences. The art starts melting off the walls.

Admittedly, when the moist breath and germs of gormless tourists has caused irreparable damage to ancient egyptian tombs and 17,000 year old cave paintings, it took much longer than this. One of the characters exclaims that they must have disturbed the atmosphere in the room by opening it, which is possible. However, we literally see accumulated dirt in this room. Alien worms writhing in it. This is a plot point for a few scenes from now, because the black urns have started sweating a Mysterious Goop that the audience may remember as “that DNA melty stuff from the opening scene”.

Back when I was talking about setting mood, expectation, and feeling pretty good. I miss that.

There’s apparently a cut scene where Millburn the biologists finds those alien worms somewhere, and has a near-religious experience. It’s the first macroscopic alien life ever witnessed by modern humans. Something that evolved entirely separately from us. He’s in awe. 

The scene no longer has any logical home in the flow of the movie–the worms are only seen by the audience, in the urn room. Millburn left with Fifield the geologist, following Fifield’s panic attack. Still, it would’ve gone a long way to humanizing his character if it was still included, showing that the cast isn’t all treating this like kindergarteners at a toy store, and partially explaining a dumbass thing he does later.

It would also stand in stark contrast to further desecrating an ancient body, which is next on the agenda for our cast.

With the room literally melting and the Prometheus calling in the approach of a sandstorm, they heave the head in a duffel bag and sprint away.

I hate this. There’s the feeble justification that they already fucked up the room anyway, but they have been viewing the body as a thing they want to have, an emblem of their own efforts, and not an ethically distinct class of object that has to be treated with extreme care.

Nope! Into the duffel bag it goes. David, for his part, duffels an urn. I hate this less, for the aforementioned reason of “two-year-old who everyone’s been robot-racist at”. Also because frankly, he’s an android in an Alien movie, one that is very self-conscious about the tropes. He is either going to be an absolute saint like Bishop, or he’s going to be an extension of a callous corporate power like Ash. David is a unique spin on it, but he’s absolutely the Ash.

He manages to be all that and the only one who knows what he’s doing. David saves Shaw and the poor goddamn head from getting swept away in the sandstorm, with calm efficiency and an air of either “I have done a good thing, please praise”, or “yes, I am better at this than you”. Honestly can’t tell which. He’s certainly begun to develop antipathy toward his creators, which is one of the few character arcs that manages to occur in this movie.

So, great. Our cast has blundered into, breathed all over, and botched their exploration of humanity’s first alien structure, on the urging of an allegedly-archaeologist who literally treated it as a christmas present. They return with stolen artifacts and somebody’s head. They do not return with their biologist and geologist, who have apparently gotten lost in the alien structure, despite the geologist also being the one who was making the team a map of the place.

Things do not get better.

⛬

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

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Alt-text rambling citations:

1. https://www.cap-that.com/prometheus/index.php?page=1 2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pointing#Cultural_variations  3. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/OK_gesture#Negative_denotations

[princess-polls]

Round Three: C

[beefrobeefcal]

Chubby!Frankie fic

Send in your thoughts, ask box is always open!

The Catfish & The Mouse: Part 2

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary: The after math of Santi being a dank ass mook, Gym time and a little time for Frankie to get stuffed. This this is a terrible summary? Pls see author's notes :)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 10,269 mutha f*cka i really went to town on this b

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, oral (f receiving), p in the v - unwrapped (don't be silly, cover you willy, kids!), talk of eating, real eating, belly praise, self esteem, weight gain

Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone for the overwhelming support for part 1 - I'm super jazzed that you liked it so much. Thank you to @harryleatherfit for being a boss and proofing this, as well as offering support. Thank you to me for being drunk while posting this @beefrobeefcal

______________________________________________________________

A few weeks had passed since the night at the bar. In that time, Will had checked in to make sure both you and Frankie were okay, and Benny had offered his support if “Fish wanted to fuck up Pope”. Santi had kept his distance from the whole group, minus a quick text sent to Frankie which he had yet to respond to.

Both you and Frankie had decided to take a week of your holidays from work at the same time in June, and you were planning a ‘staycation’ in you house for the whole time. On the first day of your staycation, your alarm broke you aggressively from your sleep. You read the time – 6:45 am. As you turned it off and laid on your back, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, Frankie rolled over and slid an arm underneath you while pulling you into him with the other.

“Mornin’ baby”, you yawned, trying to stretch your limbs in his hold.

He grunted and pressed his nose into you neck, eyes staying closed, and slurred, “Why alarm…? No alarm…. Sleep in…”

You gently dragged you nails on his arm that was around your waist, eyes becoming heavy again.

“Gym… I promised myself I’d still get my work outs in.”, you grimaced, rubbing your face, trying to wake up.

“No… bed warm… bed… go back…”, he yawned, “… go back t’sleep, baby…”

He pressed kisses into your neck, and you smiled, allowing this luxury for a few more moments.

After the kisses started to die down. you tried to gently pry yourself out of his grasp, but he tightened his hold, lacing his fingers together to keep you in place. He nipped at your neck and jaw and let out a growl.

“…Frankie… I… made… a commit…. a commitment…” you smiled while struggling to get out of his arms. “I have to go… Frankie!”

You could see the smile breaking out on his face, eyes remaining shut. “No use, baby… you can’t beat me. Just accept that you’re here until I let you go.”

“You’re such a shit!”, you bark out with a laugh, knowing you’d have to resort to equally devious methods.

Frankie kept smiling and hummed while you maneuvered yourself to face him, his eyes still closed, not being able to see your mischievous grin.

You began to run your hands up and down his bare chest, placing little kisses on the end of his nose. Your hand from the arm you weren’t laying on began to move down his side, caressing and tracing little circles on the side of his tummy and his chubby waist.

Frankie grunted his appreciation, his hips rocking slightly, and breathed, “That’s more like it…”

His celebration in his ill-assumed victory was short lived when you shot your hand up into his armpit and tickled mercilessly, his eyes flew open, and he yelped, involuntarily releasing his hold on you.

Taking the opportunity to quickly hop out of bed, you grabbed your phone from your bedside table, and ran into your ensuite, slamming the door and locking it, all the while squealing and giggling.

Frankie remained your bed, breathing heavily and fully wide awake, with wide eyes and a raging hard on pressed uncomfortably into his sleep shorts.

“THAT WAS A DIRTY TRICK!” he hollered out to you, debating if he should just get up and unlock the door with the key. He figured that he’d leave you be and get you later for that stunt.

Your response was some more laughter, then apologies through the door.

In the bathroom, you proceeded to get ready to head out. Once ready, you knew it was going to be a mad dash out the door as Frankie, despite his size, retained a good chunk of his agility and speed from years of military training.

You opened the door very quietly, just enough to peek out and you could see Frankie still laying in bed on his back, one hand holding his phone up to his face and the other under the blanket, clearly jerking himself off.

You felt bad but knew that you had other ways you could make it up to him later. As he was preoccupied, this was the perfect time for you to make your escape. You ripped the door open and bolted for your bedroom door. But the door didn’t open. Frantically, you pulled on the nob – it turned, but the door barely budged. You heard a laugh behind you.

“I know your tricks, Mouse.” Frankie grinned, standing up from the bed and walking slowly towards you.

You squeaked and looked for another escape only to see that Frankie had wedged his sandal under the door as a stopper to prevent you from opening it. You pulled the sandal out and threw it at Frankie before opening the door and tried to run down the hallway. But Frankie was too quick and grabbed you by the waist, picking you up, and throwing you on the bed.

Both of you were laughing too hard – you couldn’t get off the bed and he could barely stay standing.

“You threw the fucking sandal at me?!” Frankie wheezed, bent over laughing into the bed.

“I panicked?!”, you screeched back, holding your sides and laughing with tears in your eyes.

As your laughter started to calm, Frankie crawled up the bed through your parted legs and hovered over you. He planted little kisses on your face, ending with his face in your neck, then lowered himself down on you with a contented sigh. Running your fingers through his hair, you felt his heavy weight on your body and seriously contemplated whether going to work out was worth leaving this cocoon of Frankie behind.

“Need a ride to the gym?” he asked, voice muffled, still nuzzling into you neck.

You hummed back, not offering a concrete yes or no response.

He pulled himself up again, and nose to nose, asked, “That a negatory or affirmative there, sarge?”

“Not sure… you feel awful nice on me and would feel even better if I fed you a big breakfast.” You crooned, a hand still in his hair, playing with his bedhead curls.

“Now, if you’d played nice first thing this morning, I’d entertain that notion. But because you were a bad girl, you have to go to the gym.” He placed a kiss on the end of you nose, then pulled himself up and stood next to the bed.

Whining, you held your hands out and pouted, attempting to ply him back to bed and onto you.

Frankie shook his head. “Come on, Mouse. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t support you in hitting your fitness goals when you have been nothing but supportive in helping me with mine?”, he asks while rubbing his belly.

Laughing, you reached up for him to help you up, and pulled you right into a hug. He kissed the top of your head and said, “I’ll drive you.”

*****

Once Frankie had dropped you off, he’d come home and made his way to the kitchen to make coffee. He sat at the table with his phone and scrolled through his timelines and socials.

You’d texted him and let him know that someone had hogged the treadmill, so you’d run or walk home instead for your cardio; he thought about heading back to bed, but his stomach grumbled, letting him know it was time to eat.  Before he could raid the pantry, there knock was at the door.

“Christ, it’s not even 8:00!”, Frankie ranted as he got up to answer.

Pulling it open, Frankie could have expected anyone else but who was standing there. His face fell into a scowl as he looked at Santi.

“Pope.” Frankie glared, crossing his arms, trying to look as intimidating as possible. “What do you want? You here looking for a gym buddy? She’s not home.”

Santi stood awkwardly in front of Frankie, shifting from foot to foot, hands dug into his jean pockets.

“Uh… hey… No… uh… came here for you, Fish….”, Santi said with a pleading half smile on his face.

Frankie shook his head. “No, man… I don’t want to fight with you.”

Santi huffed, then held his hands up. “No, Fish. Frankie… I came to apologize. I want to apologize about the other night. I went way too far.”

Frankie didn’t buy it, thinking this was another way for him to get under his skin and spat, “Just get your fat jokes out now and fuck off.”

He went to close the door, but Santi stepped forward and pushed his way into the house, door slamming behind him.

Frankie growled, rolling his eyes as he stomped back into the kitchen.

“No, I’m being serious, Fish! I’m sorry!”, he shouted as he tried to put himself in front of Frankie.

“Fuck you, Pope. You were my best friend and you wanted to make me feel like shit.” Frankie bellowed. “Why?”

Santi, matching Frankie’s volume, yelled back, “It doesn’t matter! What matters is that I am sorry!”

“Doesn’t matter? Of course, it fucking matters!” Frankie raged, his fists clenched, and teeth bared. “It matters to me why my best friend wants me to feel shitty about myself. It matters because I’m in a good fucking place with Mouse and you want to rip me out of it!”

Santi took a step back, hands rubbing his face, an exasperated groan left his mouth.

“Just tell me why. Give me that one thing!” Frankie yelled; his anger was rolling through his body. He took a threatening step towards Santi, pushing himself into his space, fury taking hold. “You had it in for me the moment you saw me that night. Then Mouse tells me you made a pass at her and some other bullshit? It’s been three years, Santi. Three fucking years and you still look at me like I’m the shit-stain who wrecked your life!”

Santi shakes his head, eyes wide in fear and hands up in surrender. “Dude… Fish… Please… “, he begged, trying to back away from Frankie.

Frankie met him step for step, eyes on fire. Frankie was the gentlest and most docile of the group. But Santi also knew Frankie had a slow-burning and ferocious temper. Embers burning beneath the surface for period of time until a flash fire erupted. When he blew, it was almost surreal and terrifying how his composure shattered instantly. He’d been on the receiving end of Frankie’s anger only once before and it wasn’t an experience he was looking to relive. He knew he had to come clean.

“I-I’m … I’m jealous, okay? I’m fucking jealous. She met you, and she wanted you. And you got…” Santi gestures at Frankie.

“Say it, Pope.” Frankie stated, cutting Santi off. Fuming, he stepped closer and almost pushed Santi into a corner. “Fucking Say it. I got fat and she still wants me. Say. It.”

Santi shook his head. “No, no! It’s not that, Fish! It’s that you got someone who wants to take care of you. She wants to build a life with you. I-I don’t have... that!”

Santi’s shoulders dropped, then he pleaded, “And I want that!”

Frankie was taken aback by Santi’s confession; his anger beginning to waiver.

“I’m sorry, Fish. It’s not just her… it’s the life you have with her. Christ, I saw her at the bar, and she was completely not here for any of my bullshit. Then the way she looked at you and I couldn’t… you were happy and content, something I never thought I would see on you, Fish. After you were discharged, you were a ghost… I never thought you’d be... you again.” Santi confessed, rambling.

Frankie remained quiet and nodded for Santi to continue.

“I’m alone, Fish… I wanted someone to me back to life. I’m jealous that you got that.” Santi looked away; shame running through his veins and tears threatening to escape. “Dude, I made fun of your weight because it’s the only thing I thought I could do to hurt you. Truthfully, I don’t give a shit what you look like, as long as you’re happy.”

As soon as Santi finished, Frankie pulled him into a hug and huffed a teary laugh, “You fucking idiot.”

Santi hugged him back, sniffling. “I’m so sorry, Fish.”

They parted, stood facing one another. Both wiped their eyes and laughed quietly.

Santi broke the awkward silence that had begun between them, clearing his throat and saying, “Did you make coffee?”

*****

Sitting across from one another at the kitchen table, Frankie and Santi had enjoyed their coffee and frozen waffles.

“Fuck, I haven’t had these things in years!” Santi exclaimed, sitting back after taking his final bite of waffle.

“Mouse keeps the freezer stocked with these. We have tons if you want some more.” Frankie said, motioning to the fridge.

Santi looked at the empty box of waffles on the counter. He’d had his fill and he was done.

“Nah, I’m good, man. Don’t want to eat you out of house and home.” Santi laughed, going back to finishing his plate.

“You do realize that’s what I do daily.” Frankie chuckled, patting his belly. Both men started laughing.

Frankie took his final bite of waffle and wiped his mouth with his napkin, humming in approval.

Santi sat forward and folded his hands together, then cleared his throat. “Uh… so… umm.. Fish?”

Frankie looked up, and Santi cleared his throat again. “We’re good? I mean, we’re okay?”

Nodding, Frankie put his napkin down. “Yeah… I think so. Yeah… but you need to fix your shit, Pope. Yeah, I forgive you, but that was… that wasn’t cool, man. You can’t do that to me… and you can’t pull that shit with Mouse.”

Santi nodded back; eyes cast down to his empty plate. “I know… I know it was fucked and I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say… or what I could say to her. You’re a lucky guy, Fish-“

“Don’t give me a compliment. You need to apologize to her.” Frankie stated gently but firm, pointing at him. “She didn’t deserve to get pulled into a pissing match she didn’t even know about. I love her and she deserves better. And in person, not some bullshit text.”

“I know… I know, I know. I will. When is she coming back?”

“No idea… soon though, I think.”, Frankie said, looking at the time on his phone.

They sat there again in silence for a moment before a text came through on Santi’s phone.

“Oh shit…” Santi groaned.

Frankie looked at him, eyebrows up in question.

“Benny… fuck he’s mad, too. Wants to know where I am.” Santi groaned again.

“Well, you’re not fighting here. Go to his house and talk. Or tell him to meet you somewhere neutral.” Frankie offered laughing. “You’re on an apology tour today. Make it memorable and take him to Chuck E. Cheese!”

Santi forced a laugh as he responded to Benny, letting him know where he was currently and where they could meet.

Frankie walked Santi to the door and gave him a pat on the back. Santi walked out to his SUV, and before he climbed in, he called out with a nervous smile, “Wish me luck!”

Frankie waved him off and went back inside. He was about to clear the table before deciding to have more waffles, pulling a new box from the freezer.

*****

Your work out had been more frustrating than anything. Between the different equipment either being broken or hogged, and people not wiping things down after using them, you were just done being in there after an hour. The run home would take about an hour, and you figured that was enough for the day.

During your run, your mind wandered. You thought about what was for dinner and whether you wanted to throw a barbeque at your house. You cycled through all the different things you were missing at work and how much you would be coming back to. You shook your head, trying to break away from thinking about work. Just as you did, you saw two women coming towards you on the path: one pushing a stroller carrying a baby and a toddler, the other a heavily pregnant woman. Both were laughing and chatting with each other and toddler. You smiled as you passed them, your mind drifting to you and Frankie having kids… what would that be like?

You imagined yourself with a big, pregnant belly, and Frankie offering belly rubs to you. Then, in your mind you saw Frankie with a little, brown eyed toddler, both giggling and playing in the den. In your haze, you almost tripped on a rock in the middle of the path. You caught yourself and stopped, heart racing. Fuck. I must be ovulating.

*****

You arrived home and walked in; hearing the TV in the den, you called out, “Frankie? I’m home!”

As you continued you path to the den, he responded, “In here, Mouse!”

Turing into the den, you were met with Frankie on the sofa, laid back with on hand behind his head, the other on his chest. His t-shirt was showing a strip of his tummy from being pulled up by his position. His feet were planted on the floor, knees open in a man-spread. He looked so handsome and so good, just laid out for you. All for you. Heat began to collect in your lower belly from the sight. Your mind immediately imagined Frankie being in that position with a sleeping baby on his chest.

Fucking hormones, I need to get a grip. You thought, scolding yourself, feeling the heat rising from your core.

He smiled up to you and reached out, taking your hand, then asking, “Hey beautiful girl… everything good at the gym?”

He decided to broach the topic of Santi once he fully assessed your mood.

You were feeling playful and wanted to make him work for it today after pushing you to your work out. Smiling coyly back at him, you crawled up and straddled him, catching him by surprise, your heat over his groin, your hands on his belly, pulling his shirt up to expose more.

“And what has gotten into you?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked.

You grinned and started to grind him. His hands came up to your hips to steady you while you could feel the bulge beginning under you, hitting that perfect spot each time it rubbed into your core.

Now was not the time for him to bring up Santi.

“Baby… I’m glad to see you, too.” Frankie said in a breathy voice. “Fuck… you’re so fucking hot like this.”

One of the hands on your hips moved and he dipped a finger in the waistband of your workout leggings, trying to get his hand into cup your pussy, but you pulled back quickly and shook your head, giving him a wry smile.

“Hey! No, no, no. You come back here.”, he crooned, trying to pull you back. “I want you fall apart while you grind on my hand.”,

You pulled yourself off his lap completely and stood in front of him.

Sitting up, Frankie reached out his hand, beckoning you to come to him, with the other patting his lap. “Come on, princess. Don’t make me ask again.” He stated in a darker, deeper voice. “Come. Here.”

You shook your head stepping back to put more distance between you. Turning away and looking over your shoulder at him, you unzipped your top and draped it off your shoulders, dropping it to the floor. Next, you hooked your thumbs into your waistband and pulled them down slowly, pushing them to your hips, then leaned forward, lowering them to the floor. When you bent over, Frankie had a direct view of the tong covering your heat, fabric clearly damp.

“Oh fuck… princess …” Frankie panted while sitting back into the couch, eyes heavy with lust, watching you strip for him.

You brought yourself to a standing position slowly, running your hands up your body and into your hair. You turned around to face Frankie and began to massage your tits through your sports bra, biting your bottom lip. You grabbed the zipper in the front and slowly slid it down. Frankie’s eyes pleaded at you with his mouth open and his tongue peaking out, breathing heavily.

You opened the bra then cupped your tits, continuing their massage between pinching your nipples. You let out a moan, and let one go, moving a hand down your body to your panties. You dipped your hand into them and pushed your middle finger in between your wet pussy lips.

Through your lidded eyes, you could see him staring at you, watching your private show, panting like a dog. But he hadn’t moved from the couch yet; you wanted to play, you were the prey and he was the hunter.

You circled your clit and let out little gasps, then pulled your hand out of your panties and dragged the wet, offending finger up your body and to your mouth; you sucked on your finger and moaned at your taste.

“Fuck. Fuck…. Fuck.” Frankie panted, finally standing up from the couch.

He had barely grazed you with his hand trying to grab you when you squeaked and scampered towards your bedroom, hearing him come after you. Before you could make it though, Frankie caught up to you in the hallway and grabbed you by the waist, picking you up, causing you to shriek.

Holding you in his arm, your back to his front, he was breathing hard into your ear. “Where do you think you’re going? Huh? Trying to escape me again?”

He moved his mouth and began to kiss and suck on your neck.

You, breathing just as hard, huffed back, “No… Frankie… baby… I just…-“

He cut you off with a rough nip to your neck then growled, “Nuh-uh, baby… you know what I think? I think you like to make me work for what’s already mine.”

He licked and sucked down on your neck and maneuvered you in his grasp to place your feet on the floor and your arms folded across your chest, being held in place by one of his large hands, while the other forced its way between your legs pushing your thong to the side. His fingers made harsh circles in your folds and forced a loud whine followed by panting cries from you, your eyes clenched shut.

“You’re like a fucking bitch in heat, you know that? Making all that noise... You’re so fucking wet… fuck baby… yeah… you needed this…” Frankie pants hotly in your ear, nipping and licking your earlobe. “Needy little thing… your pussy needs this.”

You cried out as his fingers closed in on your clit, making tight circles. It was becoming too much but not enough. Too hard but not enough pressure. You knew that he knew you wouldn’t be coming if he kept at it like this. “P-please.. p-lea…. Fra-Frankie! Please… oh… oh fuck…” you cried, writhing in his hold.

His hold on your arms tightened, and his whole body and energy shifted. His fingers kept up their pace, and he spoke in a dark, commanding voice that sent electricity all through your body.

“You think I’m gonna let you come? You think you deserve that? I was so sure you were going to let me fuck you sweet this morning – start the day off right. Instead, you pulled a fast one, and left me with a raging hard on and only my fist to fuck.”

“Please!” you cried out, followed by panting whines.

“Then stripping for me then running off, making me chase after you… Don’t know if you deserve to come after that performance.”, he growled, and you cried out in response.

Suddenly, Frankie pulled his hand from your core and released your arms, your legs giving out. You slumped again the wall in your hallway, Frankie looming over you.

His face was dark like a thunder cloud. This was the dominant Frankie that didn’t ask for what he wanted he took it; the Frankie that was forged in the military that he rarely let out. Now with his larger, heavier form, this Frankie was punishing, imposing, and caused your whole body to feel like it was on fire.

Fuck, I MUST be ovulating. You thought, feeling your brain turning to radio static.

Frankie reached down and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You gonna be a good girl?”

You stared up at him, now no thoughts in your brain but please fuck me please.

“Answer me.” he boomed, eyes flashing as he stepped closer, invading your space. “Are you gonna be a good girl?”

You nodded, and he clenched his jaw. He grabbed your arm, pulling you back to the den, but moving past it and into the kitchen.

He grabbed your body and harshly mashed his mouth onto yours. He infiltrated all your senses, overwhelming you to only be able to take what he was giving. Teeth and tongue, messy open mouth kisses stealing your breath.

He ripped his mouth off you, and flipped you around, pushing you face down on the kitchen island with a hand on your mid-back. You let put a yelp and clenched your eyes again as he used his other hand to pull your thong down then sliding a finger through your now unclothed slit.

You keened and tried to move. The hand your back pushed down with more pressure.

“Be quiet and don’t fucking move… be a good girl… You can nod or shake your head.”, Frankie commanded, like he was breaking in a new cadet. “No talking. Quiet… as a Mouse.”

Even with your eyes closed, you knew Frankie was watching you closely, wanting to make sure that this was okay, giving you an out if you needed it. Your sweet, soft, chubby, gentle Frankie was just under the surface of the harsh, bulked up, ferocious outer shell currently pinning you to the counter, making your cunt throb. You nodded, then you could feel him moving behind you.

“Good girl…” he breathed, as you realized he’d used his free hand to pull his cock out and start pumping himself. He kicked your feet apart, making room for him to position himself closer. He nudged the tip of his hard cock up against your slick, wet cunt.

He paused and gently rubbed the hand holding you down on your back, again looking for confirmation, and you again nodded even if you knew this might hurt because he had yet to open you up with his fingers. He pushed in with one, slow thrust, groaning as he bottomed, forcing your eyes to clamp shut and a silent gasp leave your mouth. Pain and pleasure, crashing together and forcing you open.

He stayed still for a moment to let you adjust, and you looked up at him from the sides of your eyes, his eyes heavy lidded, watching you back; scanning for any indication that you needed him to stop. Your body felt like it was going to spontaneously combust from his girth stretching you and his weight pinning you; you needed him to move. You pushed your hips back under his hold and nodded; the small movement registered as encouragement to Frankie. He pulled out then slammed back into you, and you had to stop your self from screaming out his name to avoid his punishment, or worse, him stopping. He set an agonizingly slow and brutal pace. Your hands clawed forward, trying to grasp anything and only finding yesterday’s mail that was left on the island.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous… fucking tight for me… you need this, don’t you? I can fucking feel how needy you are… shoulda just asked, I would have been able to warm you up… Need me to fuck you until you can’t walk… fuck you full of my come… fuck!” he barked as he pounded into you.

You were panting, trying so hard to not make any noise. You were slowly losing focus as he started to increase the pace, feeling the heated coil winding up in your core. Small, quiet cries started to bleed out with every brutal, harsh thrust, and the vulgar, wet noises coming from your sopping pussy accepting each movement of his cock echoed through your kitchen, along with filth and obscenities from Frankie.

Frankie removed the hand from your back, pushing it underneath you, winding it up your body to between your tits, pulling your body as flush as it could be with his. His tummy pushed against your back with each punishing slam. You no longer care about making noise and let out panting moans and beg, “F-fill me up… Frankie… please… I-I’m close…. Fra-Frankie!”

“Fuck… you-you’re so fucking good baby… I can feel you falling apart… come… come for me, princess…”

A few more thrusts and you unravel, crying and begging incoherently.

Frankie tried keeping the harsh pace, but it began to waver. “Good girl… I got you… yeah… such a good girl…  fuck…”

You could feel another orgasm starting before the current one had dissipated, and your vision was starting to go white. Your mind completely blanked except for an image of Frankie fucking you from behind, you with a pregnant belly and you moaned, “Fuck a baby in me, Frankie!”

You didn’t register what you’d said but felt Frankie’s breathing stutter and his pace stagger. He tightened his grip on you and moaned into your ear, breathing ragged, as you felt his hot seed release in you. This pushed your orgasm to set off like fireworks, your body going limp in his hold while your cunt squeezed and milked him.

Frankie let go and your body went back down, your cheek on the counter. He was breathing heavily, and placed sloppy, hot kisses on your neck, offering praise while strong aftershocks pulsed through your body leaving you gasping for air.

“I’ve got you… breathe, baby… I’ve got you… did so good for me… come on, deep breaths, princess.”

Still holding and caressing you, Frankie pulled out, and you whined.

“I know, baby… I know. Come on… I wanna get you into the shower.”, he said, kissing your cheek.

“Two work outs and you stink.”, he laughed lightly.

Your body had almost regulated itself as you stood in the shower. Frankie’s aftercare when he was rough with you was welcome and beautiful. He was gentle, but still in charge. He stood behind you, washing your body, checking in and making sure you were okay, and requiring all your answers to be in words.

After the shower, while you toweled yourself dry, a clean, fluffy-haired Frankie looks at you, grin on his face.

“…what?” you ask, mirroring his grin.

He paused, still grinning then asked, “You want a baby?”, standing his full height after pulling sweatpants up, no underwear underneath.

You starred at him, grin falling away. Then your face got hot, and you looked away, feeling like you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing. Any words you wanted to say to deflect or deny were stuck in your throat.

Frankie sauntered toward you and stated confidently, “You said while I was railing you, and I quote, Fuck a baby in me, Frankie.”

You felt a sinking, heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach; was Frankie was making fun of you for something you said during sex? You dropped your shoulders and huffed. Frankie reached his hand out and cupped your cheek, trying to find your eyes again.

“Hey, hey… no, princess... no… it’s okay! I’m teasing… Mouse, look at me.”

You look up and see his face smiling warmly.

“You want a baby?”

“I-I don’t… I mean, I…” the words were getting caught on the lump forming in your throat.

Frankie pulled you into his chest and held you. “Oh no… no, I’m sorry, honey!  I didn’t mean to make you upset. If that was just… just.. like… sex talk or whatever, then we can leave it at that!”

You pulled away and looked up at him flustered. “No! No… I do want a baby! I mean, at least I-I think I do? It’s been on my mind lately, and I guess… maybe, but… I think I’m ovulating… But I don’t want one right now? I - No…?”

“It won’t be right now… it’ll take at least nine months.” Frankie teased.

“Smart ass.”, you huffed, swatting at his chest.

He kissed him gently, and you stepped out of his grasp, turning to grab your clothing. Getting dressed, you mused, “Besides, I’m not sure I’d look half as cute as you do with a big belly.”, you smirked at him, poking his tummy.

Frankie came up behind you smiling, positioning you both in front of a mirror, placing his large hands on your flat midsection, rubbing gently. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I think you’d make a pretty cute pregnant lady. I could see you with a cute baby bump. Give my belly a run for its money.”

You leaned back into his hold, smiling, and gave a content sigh. “…maybe…”

*****

On Wednesday morning, Frankie had joined you at the gym. The previous night, you were in the kitchen, getting Frankie a beer and trying to open a bottle of red wine for yourself. You didn’t look up, but you could hear him at the kitchen entryway. He walked in behind you as you struggled with the cork.

Reaching his arms around you, he took the bottle with the corkscrew stuck in it out of your hands. “Let me, Mama.”, he cooed, kissing your neck in the process. The new nickname he’d given you after the baby discussion set your heart a flutter.

One swift tug and the blessed liquid was free to be poured into your glass. Before you could say thank you, Frankie quipped, “Go to the gym every day and the guy who hasn’t worked out in years is still stronger. Tsk tsk tsk.”

You huffed and he laughed, kissing into your neck again.

“I really pushed myself this morning! My arms are sore!”, you whined, slumping against him with your arms crossed.

“Of course, mama. Yeah… that’s it.” Frankie chuckles, as he released you and went to grab his beer.

“Well, I’m still faster than you, even on a sore day. Cramps, hung over… quicker than you!”, you taunted back, turning around and eyeing his cap on his head.

He gives you a funny look, remarking, “No, you’re not. I catch you each time you try to run.”

You lean in, and before grabbing his cap, you state, “That’s because I let you.” You bolted across the kitchen and out the door into the back yard.

As you leapt off your back deck into the grass, you heard Frankie come barreling out the back door and laughing. “What the hell, Mouse! Get back here!”

“Catch me, Mister Speedy! Show me how fast you are!”, you goaded with a smile.

You’d made it across your larger fenced yard, and Frankie was in the middle, looking at you with a sense of amusement. “You want to play that, baby? You want me to chase you?”

You stood, neither making a move. The giant grin on your face made Frankie want to melt into a puddle and beg you to come to him; he loved seeing you so happy and excited. You were in your element, and he’d never get tired of a sight so beautiful.

“You catch me before I can run around the house and get back into it, I’m yours tonight. No safe words. No boundaries. No questions. Anything goes.” You croon to him, seeing his body react to your proposal, getting your body in position to move. “If you don’t catch me, you come to the gym with me tomorrow morning – bright and early.”

Your body was now hunched, coiled up like a spring ready to release and have your legs off. You’d become quite the sprinter in your work outs along with being much more limber, and you’d breached the huddle of endurance running. Frankie had no idea what he was up against.

“Come on, Catfish… come get your Mouse.”

The sound of his callsign coming out of your mouth flipped a switch. Frankie nodded in agreement to your game, and even though he knew he was more of an ambush hunter, the offer was just too tempting not to take.

At the first sign of his movement, you took off, running toward the other side of the yard where the gate was. Frankie went to catch you, but you were too quick, leaping up on the deck, running across. You then jumped from the deck onto the fence connected to your house and hopped down on the other side. Frankie had just barely made it onto the deck when he watched you take off.

He hurried to the gate and as he was about to open it, he heard a noise from the other side of the yard. He pulled back and saw you climbing over the fence, and before he could get any momentum, you scampered up onto the deck, opened the back door. You went in, turned, and watched through the glass door as Frankie, slightly out of breath, came onto the deck. He walked into your house and saw you standing in the kitchen. You had a face of victory, arms crossed and wearing his hat on your head. “Better get a good night’s sleep, Catfish. Tomorrow’s training day.”

Frankie made getting him up and out of the house the next morning as difficult as possible. Not because he was a sore loser, but because he knew that you were more likely to take any frustration you garnered from his attitude on him later.

You’d been at the gym for a little under an hour, running through your circuit with Frankie trying to keep up. He was now standing over you, spotting you while you tried to prove “how strong you really are”, trying to lift the bar on the bench press.

“Mouse honey, I think this is a little heavy for you.”, Frankie cooed, trying hard not smile at your scrunched up face, huffing face.

“No… I lifted this… amount…  like last week…”, you grunted, struggling to even move the bar from its rack.

“I believe you, mama… you’re very strong… but this is a lot of weight… for you.”

“For me? A lot of weight for me?”, you whined angrily, and shimmying out from under the bar to sit up. “Fuck that! You do it then!”

You stood up, trying to look as intimidating and angry as possible. Between the adrenaline in your body from the work out and Frankie being so difficult throughout the morning, it had your competitive streak ignited. Frankie stroked your face with the backside of his fingers.

“Of course I can lift more. I’m a guy.”, he cooed mockingly, now showing his enjoyment at your anger.

You huffed as you moved to the spotter’s position and then watched as Frankie put more weight on the bar. He winked at you then laid back, getting into position. With what seemed very little effort, Frankie bench pressed more than you could even attempt to. You were furious.

“Fuck. You.”, you spat as he pushed the bar back into its rack. You turned to grab your water bottle and towel.

“Awe, Mouse, don’t be like that. I’ll always be stronger than you.” He tried but failed to supress the shit-eating grin that was trying to erupt on his face and started laughing.

You just shook your head, quickly walking to the co-ed locker room with Frankie in pursuit. He called out for you, eventually using your real name – that he never used – to try and get your attention. No luck on his part.

Reaching your shared locker, you pulled his bag out and tossed it at him.

Frankie let out an oof as he caught his bag. He watched you fume and narrowly avoided his shoe that you threw.

 “Hey! What is your problem?”, he growled, no longer working to defuse the situation.

You spun around to face him, your eyes dark and angry with your fists clenched.

“You. You’re my fucking problem. You think you’re so fucking slick and pull that shit?”

Frankie matched your volume and fury, his temper beginning a collision course to his surface. “Jesus, Mouse. That’s what this fucking is?” He was getting tired of this; you wanted to play the game and now you were being a sore loser. “You’re a god damned brat.”

His eyes were issuing a stern warning about his temper, and you ignore it. He rarely lost his temper, especially with you, but you wanted to get the best of him; you had to. You’d worked so hard at this gym to feel better about yourself, and in one moment, he reminded you of how weak and small you felt still, and you needed to get under his skin; it was working.

“No.”, you fumed. “You’re a bastard who needed to show off just to spite me. Had to remind me how fucking weak I am. You’re a fucking asshole!“

You knew your reaction to this was way outside of normal, and it was coming from a place of insecurities. You hated that you took it out on him and backed down as soon as you realized what you said, hands up, “I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry, Frankie! I didn’t mean it!”, you yelped, eyes wide.

“I’M A WHAT?”, Frankie yelled cutting you off. His fists were clenched and eyes on fire. “ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?”

He was stalking towards you now. His flared temper made him feel so much more imposing and larger, and there was no soft Frankie under this. He was mad.

“I’m stronger than you because I’m three fucking times the size of you! But here you are losing your shit over it.”, he yelled again. “Grow the fuck up, you fucking brat!”

His words were hitting you harder, and you could feel the shame crawling up and settling on your face in a deep shade of crimson. “Frankie, please. I’m sorry!”, you cried out at him. “Please calm down. There are other people here.”

“Should have fucking thought about that before you threw a tantrum in a public place, you fucking brat.”, he yelled, now standing over you.

You knew he would never hurt you on purpose, but his temper could blind him. You’d seen what he was capable of with his bare hands in a bar fight along side Benny, and the last thing you needed was someone else trying to intervene, getting caught in his line of fire. You needed to calm him down now.

You then did the thing you knew would at least throw him off his rhythm for a minute to gain control of the situation. You closed your eyes and grabbed his head and kissed him, pushing your tongue through his lips and up against his clenched teeth. It worked because no sooner had your mouth collided with his, you felt his whole body tense up then relax. His mouth reciprocated, allowing access to your tongue, and increasing the intensity of your kissing.

Hot, angry teeth and tongues fought, and if anyone saw you two, they would think you were trying to devour one another. Frankie was trying to push you up against the lockers, but even in your haze you would not allow him to fuck you in an open area.

You broke the kiss dragged him into the nearest change room, slamming the door and pushing him down on to the bench. Frankie was stunned, but anger still coursed through his body. He tried to stand up, but you shoved him back. He snarled and tried again to get up, and again you shoved him down. His hand moved to his crotch with out breaking eye contact with you.

Giving him a wary look, you finally broke eye contact and look down and see him pulling his gym shirts down to reveal his rock-hard cock. He started stroking himself and his lips parted slightly.

A breath got caught in your throat and you looked back up to his face. His eyes still read beware but him pumping his huge cock in front of you was the route you chose to take. You took your short gym shorts off, along with your thong. You cautiously stepped up to Frankie, grabbing a fistful of his hair. You were so wet, even with the mediocre lighting in the small room, your dripping slick was glistening. Other than his breathing quickening, Frankie offered no other reaction. You grabbed the hand stroking his cock and before you could do anything with it, Frankie grabbed you and you yanked his hair, then straddled his lap with his angry tip kissing the entrance to your sopping, hot cunt.

You were both breathing heavily, staring, waiting for the other to make a move.

You rubbed your heat over the tip, not letting him enter. You were teasing him, testing his will.

He puffed out a few angry breaths and tried to kiss you. You stayed just far enough away, holding his head in your grip on his hair. You got close enough for him to feel your hot breath on his open mouth, then pulled back as he tried to connect again.

You pushed yourself down, taking his whole length in in one go. You both gasped, your eyes clenched while his eyes rolled back. His hands firmly gripped your hips, forcing your movement on him and setting an intense, maddening pace.

Eyes still closed, you let go of his hair and one hand went to his shoulder to steady you, the other reached down and intertwined with one on you hip. You needed a gentle connection with him to let him know this wasn’t a hate or rage fuck – it was a release, a cathartic end to a stressful morning.

You move down and catch his lips with yours. He pushes back and intensifies the kiss, and he whimpers into your mouth. Your pacing is increased, and the hand not intertwined with yours moves between your bodies to rub circles on your clit. Break the kiss and gasp, continuing to ride him. Pulling back, he breathes, “That’s it, baby… take it… come on, princess… you’re close… I can feel it…”

You were getting closer, your head was thrown back, and your eyes stayed closed, gasps and cries coming out of your mouth. Frankie had to will himself not to come with the sight before him. 

“I-I’m so close… Fr-Frankie, come with me… please baby…”, you begged.

He thrusted up into you a few more times and felt your walls began to spasm, and Frankie couldn’t hold back, coming into your sweet chamber with a few small moans.

You sat conjoined for what felt like an eternity with your foreheads touching and breathing heavy. Frankie broke the silence first with a breathy laugh.

“That’s one hell of a way to win a fight.”

*****

It was Saturday and you wanted to let Frankie go wild, giving him a treat after the gym incident. You stood in the kitchen, deciding on a menu for dinner. This week, you’d had pizza, lasagna, pizza again, and chicken fettuccini alfredo for dinner, and Frankie had enjoyed himself; his belly had remained pretty stuffed, but no where near what he was capable of. In bed that morning, he’d mentioned that he wanted to enter the weekend in a food coma, and here you were. After thinking a little longer, you decided on breakfast for dinner: pancakes, bacon, eggs, French toast… the works!

You both went to the grocery store to get what you needed, and while you were in the egg and dairy section, Frankie wandered off. By the time you reached the sausages and bacon, Frankie returned carrying a rectangular box then threw it in the cart. You peered down and saw a box of pregnancy tests. You looked up at him, eyebrows raised, and he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Just in case, mama.” He murmured into your hair before kissing you.

As well as spending the week at the gym and feeding Frankie, you’d also been fucking, making love, screwing, and everything else two people might do to make a baby. You’d also stopped your birth control with Frankie asking if he could be the one to pop out each pill and flush them down the toilet.

You hummed in agreement, savoring how sweet Frankie was being and both wanting the same result from all of your efforts.

After returning home from the store, Frankie headed outside to mow the lawn as you began to prepare dinner. He would be about an hour or so, then he’d come in and shower. You watched him push the mower and maneuver the weedwhacker from the kitchen window, watched his body sweat, and him reach up and wipe his brow. God, you wanted to just run out into your yard and fuck him there – neighbours be damned! But you continued cooking.

Just as you predicted, he finished, came into shower, and then sat with you at the kitchen table and enjoyed breakfast for dinner.

“Anything else, Frankie?”, you asked, looking over a very full Frankie.

“Oh, Mouse… I think I’m done,” Frankie said, wincing as he shifted his very round, full belly, “And I mean it this time.”

He sat back, surveying at the empty plates in front of him. Yes, he did mean it – he was done. And he was full, his stomach almost touching the table from actually finishing all the food. He leaned back and tried to get comfortable under his now hefty middle popping out from under his shirt.

“Fuck I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it to the couch this time.” Frankie huffed.

You reached a hand over and rubbed Frankie’s stomach. “Oh, I don’t know, Frankie… I’m sure you will. I can help.”

Frankie laughed and put his hand over yours, then sighed. “Yeah, help by hiring a forklift.”

You shook your head smiling. Getting up, you looked him over, wanting to force your way onto him and his very stuffed tummy, but you knew he needed a minute or so to settle. “I’ll get this cleaned up, you go make yourself comfortable.”, you said, coming over and kissing his head before starting to clear the table.

He hoisted himself up off the chair, groaning as he cradled his tummy, then made his way out of the kitchen. Wandering into the den, he realized he needed get his midsection unrestricted. His t-shirt had ridden up, hem pulling across the widest part of his stomach, but his jeans, the same ones you couldn’t remove that night with out his assistance, were now far more strained and digging in. He tried to suck in as best as he could to get the button open, but his belly didn’t suck in enough. He stood for moment, looking down at his expanded middle, noting it had neverlooked this big before. He put his hand at the widest part and pressed in, feeling a pang, and letting out a sharp breath.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, Morales.” he muttered out loud to himself, smile on his face.

He walked gingerly into the bathroom off the den to see if a mirror would help in getting his pants undone.

He looked at himself in the mirror and noted that his belly was bigger. You could draw a straight line from his chest down to his hips then put a big circle in the middle where his tummy protruded. It wasn’t just sticking out front but rounded out the sides like he’s swallowed a beach ball.

After struggling and making a promise to himself to get bigger clothes, he finally was able to get his jeans open. The relief was immediate, and he sighed as he rubbed at the red marks where the jeans had dug in. He then gently lifted his tummy with both hands, feeling the weight of the heavy food he’d packed into it.

A satisfied smile broke out over his face, and he took a few more seconds to glance at his stuffed form before carrying himself to the couch.

By the time you were done cleaning, you found Frankie. Laid back in his reclining seat, his black t-shirt up pulled up and his undone jeans revealing his big, round tummy; he had a satisfied smile on his face.

You walked towards him. “Hey baby...” you said in a low voice and placed your hand softly on and soothing your hand over his distended middle.

“Hey mama…” He smiled and tried to squirm under your touch. “How’re you?”

You smiled softly and nodded. “You?”

He chuckled. “That dinner was… fuuuuck… “

“You laid waste to the entire thing. No leftovers.”, you said smiling again, pushing your hand down a bit on his belly to test just how full he was.

He grunted with a goofy grin. “Yeah, I really did.” He reached one hand out to put on your waist, stroking you with his thumb.

You and Frankie studied each other’s faces as a familiar fuzzy feeling began blossoming in your lower belly, your slick gathering in your panties, and your eyes showed it.

“Princess, if you keep looking at me like that…”, Frankie warned in an unconvincing and stuttering voice.

“What’ll you do? Hmm? Get off the couch and chase me?”, you cooed mockingly, hand soothing over his bloated belly, the nudging him as a reminder of how full his tummy was. You felt brave, knowing he would be slowed down for the time being.

“Now you be nice.” He said, brows furrowed as he shook a finger at you. “I can still-“

You interrupted him by licking his finger, then opening your mouth to suck on it. Frankie’s mouth opened, small shallow breaths coming out, and his eyes stared at his finger in your mouth. You pulled back and his finger left your mouth with a pop.

“I’m sorry, baby… I didn’t mean to interrupt. Keep going.”, you cooed.

Frankie closed his eyes and sucked a breath through his nose.

“Jesus, Mouse… you’ll fucking be the death of me.” He shook his head. “Fuck… you can’t wait just like an hour?”

Even with his words saying he was not ready, his body and actions we’re saying otherwise; he had a large bulge in his pants, and he reached out as you moved, pulling you towards him. You stood in front of him, took his hand, placing it palm up against your clothed, hot cunt. You gave him a warm, loving look and, while grinding on his palm, said in a very serious tone, “So what you’re saying is you won’t fuck me.”

“Baby, pleeeeease”, Frankie whined. “The spirit is willing, but the body is… well… fucking full!”

You pulled back and took off your top and bralette. Frankie whined again, staring at your exposed tits, and was clearly losing ground with his internal battle on whether he should ignore his overstuffed belly or not.

You stood up to take your shorts, but Frankie stopped you. “Mouse… please… I want this s-so fucking bad, but you just made me an incredible dinner…. and I ne-need a minute, baby. Pl-Please.”, he pleaded.

You sighed and nodded, relenting, and not wanting to push him. You started putting your clothes back on, but he stopped you again with an exasperated whine. You looked up at him, conflict written on his face, then he shook his head.

“Fuck… just come sit on my face and suffocate me with your perfect cunt.”

You hummed in approval and took your shorts and panties off. He watched you as he laid back on the couch.

“Frankie… honey… this is not how you make a baby…” you tsk’ed as you smiled wryly at him, moving to sit on his chest, knees either side of his head.

His hands came to your waist, pulling you forward. As his face started to disappear under you, he said with an eyebrow cocked, “Maybe not, but this is how Daddy keeps Mama happy.”

Once your core was over his face, his arms moved to put you in a tighter hold, pulling you down. His tongue licked through your sopping cunt then he latched onto your clit. Your hands reaching forward to grip the couch’s arm rest.

Frankie moaned, the vibrations flowing into your heat, and you tried to let out a quiet whimper.

“No… Mouse… honey… I wanna hear you… open up and scream for me!” Frankie demanded from under you.

He adjusted you in your seat and plunged his tongue into your weeping hole while his nose rutted again your clit.

“Yes… fuck… baby, right there! Yes, yes… Frankie… keep doing that!” you cried out.

You could feel the wet scruff of his beard rubbing against the insides of your thighs and his hot breath panting into your core. One of your hands came up from the arm rest and palmed your tit, then peaking your nipple between your index finger and thumb. Your hips began grinding down again his face, as the energy in the pit of your belly started to catch fire, and you could feel it building up.

“Please… please… yes… Frankie… please baby…”, you gasped as his tongue kept up its assault as he brought his index and middle fingers to your clit to add more friction.

That was all you needed to send you over the edge, crying out, hips bucking, and he did not slow down. He let you ride him through your orgasm, gushing on his face.

He did what you loved when you were coming down: gently sucking and licking your core. When he knew you’d finished, he kissed the inside of your thighs and tapped your legs. You went to fall backwards, but Frankie caught you.

“No! No baby… I’m way too full… can’t go that way.”, he said, holding you steady while you pushed yourself back to sit on his chest, making a mess of his shirt.

He was looking up at you as you sat on him, your eyes closed, and laced his fingers with yours as you breathed a sigh of contentment. He didn’t even have to ask if you enjoyed yourself.

“Come on, mama… get cleaned up and we’ll watch a movie.”

You got up, went to the washroom, then returned wearing a t-shirt and panties, bearing a clean shirt for Frankie who was now sitting in the reclining seat of the sofa. You snuggled in next to him, hand on his distended belly, ready for a movie.

A few hours later, Robocop and Total Recall had ended, and you were sound asleep, nestled in the cuddly space between Frankie and his arm.

He leaned down and placed a kiss on your head, trying to stir you gently, no response but your steady breathing. He moved some hair out of your face, and spoke in a soft voice, “Mama? Baby, wake up… let’s go to bed.” You shifted and sighed but remained asleep. “Mouse… come on… wake up, honey.”

He gently moved his arm from around you and started to get up, belly still somewhat full. Once he’d moved from your side, your body slumped over, and you awoke with a huff.

Frankie leaned down and pressed a kiss on top of your head, attempting to sooth-other your post-nap scowl. Chuckling quietly, he said, “Come on, mama… bedtime.”, as he helped you up, then led you down the hallway to your bedroom.

*****

About six weeks later, Frankie came home from work, the house suspiciously quiet.

“Mouse? I’m home!”, he called out. No answer.

He kicked his boots off and called out again. No response. He was nervous. You’d let him know over text that morning that you’d left work early due to not feeling well still and he was concerned. You’d been feeling off, tired and nauseous, for the past week or so.

He looked into the den and living room, and before heading to check the bedroom, he looked in the kitchen, and saw a cake sitting on the counter. Curiously, he walked up to it and the script on the cake read I’m Late with a happy face on it.

“Surprise!”, you said, popping up from behind the kitchen island.

Frankie jumped back, clearly spooked and confused, and pointed at the cake. “I see your feeling better, but what are you late for?”

You handed him a little white stick. He took it and looked it over, noting the little screen that read PREGNANT.

He looked up at you and saw your smile and tears starting down your face, his mind going a mile a minute, and stuttered, “You-You’re… you’re pregnant?”

You nodded and sobbed as Frankie hooted and hollered, then enveloped you and picked you up.

Putting you down, he placed his large hand on your flat tummy, and kissed your head. He yelped out loud in your kitchen, “We’re gonna have a baby!”

“We’re gonna have a baby, Frankie!”, you cried, holding on to him.

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[dynamitesunshine]

I finished PEAK! Super Robot Taisen OG Saga Endless Frontier Exceed was an amazing game! I think it was even better than the original. I love Alady and Neige so much and all the characters from the first one are amazing here too! This is a crazy ass fun game like Project X Zone

[they-have-the-same-va]

In Japanese, Xiaomu from Namco x Capcom shares a voice actress with Euphemia li Britannia from Code Geass.

Voiced by Omi Minami

[who-do-i-know-this-man]

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