#viscera. vivisection. nice words (:

[outlying-hyppocrate]

just searched up "vivisection table" and. i'd gladly throw myself onto one of those

[shadowofthelamp]

Relish the Flavor

Happy Halloween, you filthy animals.

Ao3 link

Summary: Zim has a craving for something... different.

Wordcount: 1870

Rating: T or M, only a very brief mention of sexual stuff but... well, look at the warnings.

Warnings: Gore, cannibalism (does that count if one’s an alien?), consentual vivisection, hard vore I guess? Messy messy messy. Also mpreg.

Comments either here or on ao3 super appreciated, as well as likes, replies, and reblogs! 

Zim was hungry for something.

What, he wasn’t sure. Something other than sugar, because he’d had a few spoonfuls and they hadn’t even cracked at the hunger. Usually, whenever he had a craving that satisfied it, but now it just nagged at the pit of his spooch like a loose tooth. He’d already taken a single bite of nearly everything in the fridge and none of them sad sated the itching desire. (On top of that, Dib’s ham sandwich had nearly made him sick. He wasn’t sure why he thought that might be it.)

His knees pressed against the curve of his abdomen, and he narrowed his eyes, one hand squishing the blanket underneath him.

“Why can’t you just give me an answer? What do you want?”

The smeet didn’t reply. Typical. They really enjoyed playing him like a puppet, didn’t they? How a bundle of meat had so much control over such an Elite soldier’s biology was beyond him. They were clever, taking full advantage of the fact that he had to listen to them or risk his body rebelling. It was going to be worth it in the end, but in the meantime...

He turned as Dib emerged from the elevator, cracking his back so loudly it made Zim’s antennae flinch. “You need to fix the rough edges of that one console, it snagged me when I was crawling back out.”

“What were you doing under it?”

“I dropped something,” Dib said, licking at the back of his hand like a cat. Zim huffed.

“That’s your fault, then, isn’t-” His words died mid-sentence as he caught the scent of something wondrous. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Dib turned to him. “Oh, damn, it got my side too… man, I really need to get more clothes, these are getting torn up. Your base is a death trap, you know that?”

“That smell.” Zim pushed himself up off the blanket pile with a grunt, sniffing at the air. “It’s rich.”

“Rich? Okay, maybe I need to wash up a little, but-”

“Not that! Your stink isn’t as offensive as usual to me at the moment.” Zim dismissed it easily, moving closer.

Dib licked at his cut hand again, and yelped when Zim suddenly dug his fingers into his wrist. “Gah! What the hell, Zim?”

“This. This is what they wanted.” Zim squeezed Dib’s thin wrist, watching the bright red bubble up over his skin. Dib swallowed.

“Wanted?”

“I’ve been attempting to figure out what the smeet’s been making me crave.” Zim pulled Dib’s hand closer, tongue running over the cut. The blood soaked in, coppery taste jolting his senses, and Dib stared down at him.

“Uh… that one’s new.”

Zim lapped at the wound for a few more seconds before growling, throwing the hand down. “It’s not enough.” He grabbed Dib’s hips, twisting him before throwing him down on top of the blanket pile and straddling him. He reached back towards his Pak, and Dib held up his hands.

“Woah, woah, slow down for a second! What are you doing?”

“I want something more.”

“More?”

“Something… more substantial. Bloody, but better.”

“What, like one of my organs?” Sweat dripped down Dib’s cheeks, and Zim raised an eye.

“That was the plan. You lost your lungs for a bit years ago and were fine.”

“I still don’t know how that worked.” Dib wriggled underneath Zim, and Zim could feel him under his bump. “You should at least ask before you steal a guy’s heart when it’s this literal.”

“If I make you an extra, will you let me have yours?”

Dib’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks. “What?”

“If I grow you a replacement organ, may I have one of yours?” Zim repeated more slowly, unsure how Dib didn’t understand the first time.

“I- I guess so…?”

Zim licked his lips. “Good. Then come with me.”

_________

The ride down and walk to the lab was silent. Or rather, it would have been, but Dib’s heart rate was heavily accelerated. Zim probably could have heard it even if he’d been a human.

Dib climbed up on the table. “So let me get this straight. You’ll grow me a new organ, then open me up, take mine out, and put the new one in?”

Zim snapped a glove on. “That’s the idea.”

“How long will it take to synthesize a new-”

“No time at all,” Zim said, crossing the room to open a fridge. “I cloned all of your organs years ago.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I don’t want you dying of something preventable if I wasn’t the one to do it. Heart failure is such a pitiful way to go for a warrior like you.” Zim pulled out a spleen, turning it over in his hands before putting it back. No, no, that wasn’t right, it needed to be perfect.

“Oh. Wait, years- this was back when we were enemies?”

“As I said, you weren’t going to die to anything but me.” Intestines? Tempting, but his wouldn’t be as clean as these. Lungs? Mmm, those had been surprisingly tasty, but partially hollow…

“Oh. Well, you always were a possessive jerk. Not that I wasn’t the same.” Zim heard the rustle of fabric and turned to see Dib had pulled his shirt off, grimacing at the cut on his side. “Why can’t you just eat the grown one?”

“It isn’t yours. I want yours. ”

Dib gulped. “Got it.”

He decided on a heart. Dib had mentioned it before, and it was the symbol of sticky love-feelings, wasn’t it? It was juicy and had more than enough meat. He set it back in the jar, bringing it over. Dib looked over at it.

“Wait. This was a clone from when I was younger- is it going to still work with my older body?”

“It’ll be fine.” Zim reached for the sterilizing gel. “Now relax. I don’t want to break anything that doesn’t need to be broken.”

Dib laid back on the table. “I always figured I’d be the one to cut you open first.”

Zim didn’t respond, the end of his tongue sticking out as he focused on the gel application. “Table, activate restraints.”

Dib yelped as his wrists and ankles were bound. “Hey!”

“It’s so you don’t wriggle around and have your liver pop out. The gel should numb you enough that it will only be a mild sting.” Zim pulled out his tools, selecting a scalpel.

“That’s- okay, that makes sense, but geez, a little warning would be nice, huh?” Dib slumped back, staring up at the ceiling. “And your pain tolerance and mine are pretty different.”

Zim snickered. “I know, but I would have knocked you out if I didn’t think you could handle it. Don’t be a smeet over this.”

“You’re cutting me open, I have the right to be a little- uh.” Zim had climbed on top of the table and straddled over Dib’s legs to get a better angle. Dib’s height had nearly doubled over the years, and Zim had to crawl up him like a pole if he ever wanted to get anywhere, nowadays.

Dib pushed up a crooked, nervous smile. “Not gonna lie. You look really good, with the backlight and the scalpel and- you know what, I’m going to be shutting up now.”

Zim grinned. “I always look good.” He lowered the blade, making neat a shallow, neat ‘V’ over the middle of Dib’s chest before beginning to cut. Dib sucked in a breath, but Zim was focused. A line dragged down under the initial cuts, and he pried the skin and muscles open, blood immediately pooling over his hands. He needed to work fast- he hadn’t thought to lower blood pressure, and the rapid beats of Dib’s heart weren’t exactly helping. It stuttered like a rabbit, and Zim couldn’t help the way his stomach growled.

He reached around the ribs to cut the heart away from the arteries and veins, taking care to keep as much of the aorta intact as possible. When he was done, he set aside the scalpel to pull the heart out. Dib stared as it pulsed in Zim’s hands, speechless for once.

Zim set the heart down on the tray, carefully lifting the replacement out of its jar and setting it back in. He maneuvered it around the other organs, settling it back where the original had been. The tiny program inside of it ignited upon being settled into place, reaching out to the veins and beginning to beat.

“That was… easier than I thought.” Dib admitted as Zim settled the layers of muscle and skin back into place before sliding off Dib. “Uh, Zim? Are you gonna finish-”

Zim could barely hear him, drool pooling in his mouth at the rich organ sitting in front of him. He picked it up, watching as it continued to beat. Still alive, even though it was no longer attached to Dib. Even though it was Zim’s now.

He licked it first, not caring about the gore that soaked his gloves. It tasted like the cut had, only better. This blood was healthy, full of oxygen, not tired from travel through the veins. This blood that helped keep Dib alive. That was going to nourish Zim.

Then, he took a bite, ripping part of the aorta off with his teeth. The taste was indescribable and he immediately swallowed, taking another. He needed more.

Dib let out a little squeak, but Zim was preoccupied, feeling the salty sweetness soaking through his tongue. Dimly, he realized he was making a mess- the heart was still dripping blood, and now viscera soaked his chin and probably his clothes. It was far away compared to the satisfaction of the ‘food’, though, the craving disappearing amongst the texture and taste. He’d never taken bites before- the only other time he’d consumed human organs, they had all been whole, and he’d dampened his taste buds to keep from becoming sick.

Perhaps it was just because he’d grown to enjoy the taste of Dib, or perhaps he’d jumped the gun and all human organs had this transcendent property. The bites became larger and larger until he was left holding nothing but thick, sticky globs of blood.

Zim burped, a hand settling down on his now-thoroughly soaked shirt. It was only then that he noticed Dib again.

He’d fumbled for the medical sewing kit, giving himself sutures. Well, he’d always been quite self-reliant for a human. He was fine. What worried Zim was the glazed look in his eyes and the flush on his cheeks. Zim waved a hand in front of them. “Are you dead?”

“No…” Dib’s voice was quiet, and Zim realized as he shifted something was nudging him from underneath. “But I think I just realized that I’m way more into this than I ever thought.”

It took a moment for Zim to process Dib’s vague phrasing, but he smirked, leaning forward to stroke a hand soaked in Dib’s own blood over his cheek.

“I have the others. We can try again later, and you can personally give of yourself to make the smeet happy.”

Dib’s eyes drifted down to the curve of Zim’s stomach, and he nodded slowly.

“Deal.”