#card guards

Neither of the Heartslabyul duo seemed to notice. Ace snorted and waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, that’s just a nice bonus,” he chuckled, and grinned roguishly. “Cater just told me this kinda thing is trending right now. I figure, with my talents, I’ve got a shot at getting some preeeetty good views. That’s why I asked the Prefect to film this.” He jabbed his thumb towards you; you fiddled with the cell phone in your hands, biting your lip and saying nothing. “And why choose ME to be your competitor in this?” Deuce droned. “Does humiliating me just make you feel better about yourself?” “It does. Yes. Absolutely. One hundred percent,” grinned Ace. Deuce glared. He looked to the sodas, then back at Ace...then huffed and turned away. “No,” he stated. “I’m not doing it.” “Awww, come on, you’re already here!” Ace whined. “This won’t take long!” “He does have a point,” you spoke up. “Speaking with as little obvious bias as possible…” “I already mistrust your judgment,” Deuce muttered, while Ace snickered. “...You agreed to this and came here, so you might as well see it through to the end.” “And I don’t expect you to go easy on me!” snapped Ace, lifting a finger rather dramatically. “I want a challenge!” “Then you should have asked somebody else!” Deuce exclaimed. “Why not try someone from Savanaclaw, or one of the Leech Twins?” “I said I wanted a challenge, not a suicide mission,” Ace said, bluntly. You couldn’t repress a snort of laughter. You apologized under your breath as both frowned at you before looking back to each other. “Forget it,” Deuce said firmly. “I’m not engaging in something as infantile as a soda-drinking-” “Soda-CHUGGING, Spade. Get with the times, Mr. Delinquent.” Deuce glared violently. Ace lifted his hands and mouthed a quick apology. Deuce calmed down...but only VERY slightly. “...Soda...Chugging...Contest,” Deuce corrected, grinding his teeth and turning faintly red in the face at Ace’s taunt. “I’m not doing it for you, and you can’t make me.” Ace narrowed his eyes, frowning, looking Deuce up and down for a moment...then grinned anew. “Okay,” he said, slyly. “Then don’t do it for me. There’s other reasons to try.” Deuce looked suspicious and skeptical at the same time. “Such as?” Ace responded by opening one of his cases of cherry cola and pulling a single can free. He waggled it in one hand indicatively, raising an eyebrow in Deuce’s direction. Before either yourself or Deuce could comment on the actions and ask what he was doing - he popped the can open. It hissed and crackled as the pressure was released...then, without a hint of hesitation, he tipped his head back and quickly slugged down the contents of the first can. GLUG, GLUG, GLUG… You felt those familiar stirrings start within you, as your eyes immediately zeroed in on Ace’s strong but slender throat. You watched his Adam’s Apple bounce like a rubber ball with each gulp of soda. Internally, you couldn’t help but put yourself in the drink’s place...cascading down his throat, rushing down his gullet towards the ever-hungry black hole that was his belly… You shivered at the same time he finished the can. He crushed it in one hand with relish and pitched it into the recycling bin. It clattered loudly, making Deuce jump slightly. He opened his mouth to question what all this was about, and perhaps to protest again… ...And looked up just in time to find Ace leaning over the table, mouth wide open...burping four words out. Right in his face. “YYYOOOUUU...AAAARRRRE...AAAAAA...CHIIIIIC-KEEEENNNN-UUUUURRRRRP!” Ace smirked smugly, eyes half lidded as he rested his chin in one hand and licked his lips, eyeing Deuce expectantly. Deuce blinked fast several times, his expression stunned, face speckled with spittle after the messy, wet blast...then glared. “Alright, Trappola,” he almost growled. “Now…” He opened a box. “...You’re…” He pulled out a can of his own. “...On.” SNAP-CRACKLE-POP. The first can of vanilla cola was opened, and Deuce began to chug it down with relish. Ace laughed, and quickly pulled out a second can of his own. “I knew it would work!” he sang out, and popped his own can open, and began to drink down some more cherry cola as fast as he could, eager to catch up with Deuce. You sighed; you were a captive audience to this display. Not that you minded too much, you had to admit...especially given your current position. You decided to sit down rather than stand, but there was no third chair for you to use...so you simply crossed your legs and sat on the floor. This inevitably meant looking up at the pair, and some mean, self-shaming fraction of your submissive little brain couldn’t help but mock you as you watched Deuce hurl his first can into the recycling bin carelessly before moving onto another...imagining your own self being treated with the same nonchalance. Just fuel for a greater being. “I hate my life,” you muttered to yourself. “What - HIC-URP! - what was that?” Ace chirruped. “Never mind. Keep going. First to finish all 24 cans wins.” Keep going the pair did. Gulping and slurping echoed out almost non-stop, interrupted only briefly by the crushing of cans and the sound of them falling into the bin. GLUG-CRUNCH! GULP-SCRUNCH! GOLLOP-GRUNCH! Ace frowned as he hurriedly downed his sodas; his goading of Deuce had seemingly backfired, for Spade had quickly taken a surprising lead. He was only a can ahead of Ace, but one can was all it would take. He kept glancing to Deuce to gauge his progress, eyes burning hotly like crimson flames as he gulped down soda pop after soda pop. Deuce, for his part, remained focused on the sodas themselves, chugging them down as rapidly as he could; you could actually hear the fizzing and sizzling of the carbonation as it raced down their gullets at record-breaking speed. Naturally, all that air being ingested meant pockets of gas were building up inside of both students’ guts. Ace had no problem letting those pockets burst. “BRRRRAAAAAAP! Oof...oh - UUUURRRRRRP! Ha Ha...that was a good one wasn’t it...mph...PRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEFFFFEEEEEECT?” You had to fight yourself NOT to squeak, as Ace laughed and slugged down more and more soda, burping and belching like a crass pig between every single can, clearly delighting in showing off. You wanted to tell him that this wasn’t going to get him the lead back...but you were a little too loopy from the sickly-sweet smell of soda-scented stomach gas filling the air to care much. Deuce, meanwhile, handled things differently. He didn’t burp at all. Honestly, that was actually getting you even more excited; by now, he had finished six cans and was working on a seventh. (Ace was just starting his sixth can, in contrast.) The effect of so much bubbling cola pooling in his belly was starting to become obvious; he looked slightly green as his stomach audibly ROARED with all the gas building up inside...and he breathed heavily, panting almost like a huge dog in-between each can, starting with the fourth. Something had to give, and it wouldn’t be long till something did. Sure enough, after polishing off his eighth can, Deuce couldn’t hold it all in anymore. His stomach let out a lurching GRORBLE noise, and he grunted...before his eyes widened and his cheeks ballooned. He lifted a fist in a vain attempt to stifled the blast...but it was no good. His lips flapped as it bellowed forth with tinnitus-inducing volume. “GUUUUUYYYYYUUUUUHHHHHUUUUURRRRRLLLLLUUUUURRRRRP!” The explosive burp seemed to rock the room. Ace yelped, jumping in his seat just as he had finished his seventh can. He blinked with some alarm as Deuce covered his mouth. Spade hiccuped sharply and blinked, flushing red in the face as his other hand clutched his belly. The look of ripe embarrassment on his face was priceless, and you found yourself starting to giggle. “Good one,” you complimented, with a blush of your own. Deuce glared at you reproachfully. Ace began to laugh, slapping his knee. “HA HA HA HA! Wow, you’ve been holding back on us!” he cackled. “I bet even the lion would have a hard time matching that ‘roar,’ ha!” “Sh-sh-shut up!” Deuce stuttered, turning redder than ever. Ace was still sniggering as he grabbed his next can of cola and quickly swallowed it down. Deuce paused for just a few moments more, seemingly to catch his breath after that enormous eructation, but soon got back to drinking. Now the two were neck and neck. And as they drew nearer and nearer to the end of their first boxes, you realized that gas was not the only thing starting to swell and fester inside their guts. Each of the two were dressed in their Heartslabyul dorm outfits: black and white jackets lined with gold, white undershirts under color-coordinated vests - Ace wore strawberry red, and Deuce wore jet black. As they swallowed up more and more of the soft drinks, you could hear the fabric and buttons creak. The fluid and the carbonation it carried were causing both of their bellies to start to swell and stretch, growing rounder and more bloated...you bit your lip and fidgeted in place. It was so hard to stay focused on the video you were taking when real life was right before you...and ooooohhhhhh, how appealing it looked… Speaking of the video, you checked the time...and couldn’t help but whistle, impressed. “You guys work faster than I realized,” you said, with a slightly nervous chuckle. Deuce smiled almost sheepishly. Ace beamed proudly. Both cracked another can open at the exact same time. Nine cans, ten cans, eleven cans...it was no time at all before each reached the last can in their first twelve packs. You could actually hear their stomachs: their bowels growled and their guts “gulunked” as all that thick, fizzy, sugary stuff bubbled inside of them like a cauldron full of good ol’ fashioned witch’s brew. The difference was you didn’t have to worry about Mr. Crewel yapping at you about how you forgot a tablespoon of some ingredient...or the room exploding into frog zombies as a result… ...Potions class was hard… “BEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLUUUUUUURRRRRRRLLLLLLLLCH!” Two blasts of gas - simultaneously synchronized - sonorously blew forth, sounding out like a foghorn and causing the table legs to rattle. You blushed bright red as the abrasive sound caught your attention, and you found yourself looking up at the pair as they paused in their drinking. They had each polished off their first twelve pack, and were lounging back in their seats. Deuce grunted as he began to fiddle with the buttons of his vest, grumbling under his breath about how they had “shrunk in the wash” recently… ...Bless his heart… Ace, meanwhile, let out another crass, shameless belch out of the corner of his mouth - “BRRRRAAAACK!” - and sighed as he drummed his fingers over his swollen stomach. He winced with discomfort at the tightness of his clothes on his belly...but made no move to loosen anything. Instead he looked down at you...and smirked cockily, holding his head high. “Heh heh...havin’ fun down there? Enjoying the show?” he teased. “You know, if Riddle found you both like this, he’d have you both beheaded,” you answered. Deuce froze. Ace gulped nervously. “You wouldn’t,” both said at once. “If Ace here doesn’t stop kink-teasing me, I might,” you smiled oh-so-innocently. Deuce sighed with relief; that was a sure sign to him you weren’t serious. Ace, meanwhile, frowned and grumbled, looking off to the side with a pout. “If I was that lion, you’d be melting like ice cream,” he grumbled. You were about to respond to that when suddenly, Deuce let out a deep sound - somehow groaning and burping at the same time. “Grrrrooooouuuurrrrrrllllllph...mmmaaahhh…” You almost swore your heart skipped a beat as you looked towards him. He had undone his vest and his trouser buttons, and his eyes were fluttering. From under his plain white undershirt, his pale-skinned belly spilled into his lap, his shallow navel winking into view as it sloshed into place, freed of most restraints and sloshing full of soda. “Ohhhh...that feels so much better,” he sighed out...then blinked...and blushed bright red as he realized both you and Ace were staring at him. “Er...uh...I just...um…” “Well,” smirked Ace. “So much for the stuffed shirt Honors Student, huh?” ‘I-I am not a stuffed shirt!” exclaimed Deuce. “Nope. Just a very stuffed Spade,” you couldn’t help but quip. Deuce gave you a look that was best described as “Et tu, Prefect?” Ace cackled; his gut sloshed and bounced with his mirth. Then, a lightbulb seemed to go over his head, and he began to fiddle with his own buttons… GUBLORSH. “BRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOORRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIP! Whew...MAN, that feels good…” You were internally squeeing, and biting your lip almost hard enough to draw blood (almost) as you saw Ace’s belly spill into his lap. He sighed, eyes fluttering with relief...then gave a grin to Deuce, who was staring as if he didn’t know how to react. “There. Now we’re even,” Ace sing-songed. Deuce looked somewhat dubious. “Is that why you did that? Or just to try and make the Prefect’s ears steam?” Now it was YOUR turn to give Deuce the “Et tu?” look. Ace shrugged cheerfully, and patted his belly with pride. “Neither! Just wanted to relieve the pressure. But come on, even if I HAD been, would it be right to hide this perfection away?” “Do you ever think of anything but yourself?” “If you looked like this, would you?” Both you and Deuce shared a look as Ace grunted, stifling a burp with one fist before opening up his second twelve pack. “HHHRRRLLLMMMPH...well, twelve more to go...game’s not over yet. Unless you wanna throw in the towel…” “Not a chance!” declared Deuce, opening his next twelve pack up. “I’m getting you back for that belch in the face!” Ace just guffawed as he pulled another can free, popped it open, and began to drink again. GLUG, GLUG, GLUG… Deuce was quick to follow suit; once again, they were consuming soda almost at the same speed and time. The first can for each vanished within three seconds flat...then came the second...then the third...and then the fourth… It was as they began to guzzle down the fifth can each - which, really, meant the seventeenth - that you started to notice a few things. The first was that you could hear the soda pooling inside their bodies. You could actually detect the sound of it pouring down their gullets and into their massively swollen tankers, like twin waterfalls dropping down into huge basins. You felt your toes curl in your shoes; the heavy saturation of sugar was making them sound aggressively “grumbly,” gurgling and sloshing with the might of ocean waves. These sounds only seemed further amplified by the second thing you noticed, which was the view. Again, you were seated before the two, looking up at them...which meant those giant bellies looked even bigger and more looming than usual. You were NOT going to give either of them (especially Ace) the satisfaction of acting like a mouse, but it was so hard not to FEEL like one...especially as those massively rounded guts continued to swell and grow as they drank more and more. By the time they had begun their second round, their midsections looked as if each had swallowed a football whole. Now, they were inching out further and further, rolling into their laps and making their shirts ride up further and further, exposing more and more of their soft, tender skin… Forget the soda chugging; the real contest in YOUR mind was which belly you wanted to just bury your face and fingers in the most! You somehow held back, though your fingers twitched around the phone you held. The mixture of the noises and the continuing growth, however, led to a third realization: as the pair plucked up their sixth cans each, you abruptly noticed both were starting to slow down. They were huffing and puffing from the weight in their bellies, and once in a while would flinch as their guts “blurgled” sloppily around their hyper-saccharine contents. “Oooof,” groaned out Ace, as he cracked his can open. “I’m...mph...g-gettin’ kinda heavy…”

“Same - HIC! - ugh, same here,” hiccuped Deuce, and gave a determined glare. “But...b-but I’m not quitting yet.” His words were ruined by his stomach ROARING, and he winced, clutching it with his free hand. Ace just smirked, saying nothing, and the two clinked their cans together as if in toast before downing their sixth drinks. Eighteen down now, and only six more to go. GRORLP...BLLLRRRG...RRRRRAAAAAWWWWWRRRRRLLLLLB…! The sounds of gastric effort resounded through Ace’s room as he and Deuce continued to consume their sodas. Deuce was no longer holding back his gas; Ace certainly hadn’t started doing so. They hiccuped more than once, each letting out a BELCH or BURP freely in-between drinks as they downed their nineteenth, twentieth, and twenty-first sodas. The recycling bin, by now, was overflowing; you glanced back over your shoulder, grateful you had locked the door. With cans now just dropping to the floor in crumpled heaps, if Riddle Rosehearts were to walk in, it would be off with all your heads, you had no doubt. You were also glad Grim was out practicing his fire magic with Ortho; the loudmouthed imp might have caused problems there. It was a miracle all the gassy eruptions hadn’t roused much attention beyond the room, to begin with. Each of the competitors reached for their twenty-second cans; your eyes widened as you looked towards Deuce. Ace was panting and grunting, but his general motions hadn’t slowed down much. However, Deuce had clearly grown more sluggish: he had a lot more inner capacity than most folks realized (though certainly no match for the likes of some aforementioned students), but he was “out of training” on that front. It was obvious that he hadn’t consumed this much soda at once in a long time (if ever at all), and he looked both tired and a little queasy. He drank more slowly, and it looked like he was trying hard just to get it all down… Ace had pulled ahead at the very last minute: he was now on his twenty-third can of soda, and Deuce had just finished the twenty-second. By the time Deuce had started on his twenty-third, Ace was about to begin his final drink! Deuce let out a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a whimper - a difficult noise to describe, indicating sickly desperation - and tried to chug down his twenty-third cola as fast as he could… It wasn’t fast enough. Ace cracked open his twenty-fourth can - the last one in his box - and swilled it down so swiftly, you could have sworn he just inhaled it all in a single swallow. “Guh!” gasped out Ace, and hiccuped loudly - he bounced in his seat from the force of it, his gut sloshing like a water balloon against his thighs - and let the can drop from his grip. “Oooooh...ohhhhh, soooooo full...UUUURRRRP! Ah...haaaah, I f-feel like I’m gonna - HIC! - ohhhh, gonna burst…” He shivered; his expression still bore a smile - though it was slightly forced. You couldn’t help but imagine the phrase “hurts so good” applied to how he had to be feeling right about now. Lazily, languidly, he turned his head to look at Deuce as Deuce moaned with discomfort and tossed his second-to-last can of Vanilla Cola aside. “I win,” Ace grinned. Deuce looked at him in a slow, bleary way, as if he were struggling to stay awake. He hiccuped and groaned; his cheeks swelled, as if he were trying to keep his stomach’s contents in place. He didn’t say a word, just glared at Ace, sullenly. “Awww, don’t be...mph...like that,” Ace said, shifting his posture in his seat. “There’s...ngh...still one can left...g-go ahead. Finish it off.” “What’s the point?” huffed Deuce, and clutched his bare belly tightly as it “glarbled” in a nauseous way. “You already...ow...beat me..” “Well,” Ace cooed, “If you don’t think you can handle...just...one...more…” He started to subtly reach towards Deuce’s box. Something seemed to flare up, and Deuce’s aquamarine eyes flashed with newfound fire. He snatched up his final can of cola before Ace could grab hold of it. Ace smirked triumphantly as he watched his friend down the last of the sodas with gusto. “Gets ‘im every time,” he muttered to himself. You just rolled your eyes. Deuce threw his final can aside and groaned louder than before. He hiccuped and once again looked as if he had to struggle to avoid feeling sick as his breath became shallow and shaky. “Grrrrooooohhhhhh...wh-why...why did I...UUUUUURRRRRRK...agree to this…?” “Wimp,” mumbled Ace, only to quiver and let out a raspy breath of his own, as his stomach rumbled so loudly it visibly vibrated. “Hhhnnnaaaaahhhhhh...Chernabog’s horns, I’m - BRRRUUUOOORRRLLLK - soooooo STUFFED now...haven’t - URP - drank that much in my...m-my life…” You quickly turned off the video, stopping the recording...mostly because you did NOT want it to pick the inevitable “meep” sound you made as you openly ogled your two friends and their bloated bodies. It looked as if they had swallowed a couple of prize-worthy pumpkins whole, their sagging, sloshing stomachs as round and heavy as a pair of medicine balls. “I don’t feel so good,” moaned Deuce. “Speak for yourself,” Ace sighed. “This is AMAZING…” “You can say that again,” you gulped to yourself. “Huh?” both slurred out. “Nothing, guys, nothing,” you said, shaking your head. You got up onto your knees and shuffled towards them. Ace gave you a slothful smirk. “Hey, kneeling before my superior awesomeness?” he teased. “I always knew you would.” You gave him a bored look and responded by lifting a hand and jabbing at his stomach. His belly wobbled with a sound like a water bed. He hissed through gritted teeth before belching messily like a total pig. “BLLLLLLUUUUUURRRRRYYYYAAAAAOOOORRRRRRLLLLLLGP! Oof...okay, okay, sorry...ow, that one kinda hurt,” grunted Ace, thumping his chest with a fist and working up a shorter, softer after burp which you could barely hear. Considering how much your ears were ringing, that wasn’t necessarily a bad point. “You won the match,” you said to Ace. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start treating you like some kinda overlord or whatever.” Ace grumbled unintelligibly. Deuce smirked with satisfaction, tainted only slightly by his clearly ill state. It vanished as his belly burbled noisily however, and he had to fight back a whimper. You smiled sympathetically. “Maybe next time you’ll beat him,” you suggested. “You’re insinuating there may BE a next time,” Deuce groused. “Never. Again.” You had a feeling Ace would find a way to push the not-so-stoic student’s buttons in another direction, but you didn’t say so. Instead, you started to stand. “I’ll get you something to settle your stomach,” you offered Deuce. “Uh...c-could you get me somethin’, too?” Ace asked, and let out an embarrassed, soft laugh as he winced courtesy of a loud gut rumble of his own. “I, uh...mph...I think maybe I’m gonna need it sooner or later...ouch…” You rolled your eyes, but said you would, and started to stand up, patting your knees… ...Only to freeze up short as, suddenly, Deuce grabbed hold of your arm. “Wait...um...maybe you...don’t have to go anywhere?” he suggested. You blinked at him, confused, and cocked your head to one side questioningly. Deuce bit his lip...took a breath...and then tried to elaborate. “You, uh...we both know you have those… ‘Magic Fingers’ of yours, so...maybe...maybe a little bit of that m-might help?” You blinked again, more slowly than before, trying to process what Deuce was asking. “...Are you saying you...want a...a belly rub?” you checked, cautiously. “Only if you don’t mind!” Deuce insisted. “Heeeey, you can’t hog the belly rubs!” Ace cried out. “Besides, we all know mine is a lot softer and smoother than yours!” “Is not.” “Is too!” “Is not.” “Is too!” “Is...this REALLY an argument we’re having?” “Yep. Seems that way.” You were blushing too much to remember how to laugh. “I mean...if you’re...SURE you want it,” you said, in a quiet, quavering voice. Deuce nodded, an almost pleading look in his eyes. Ace grinned and nodded as well, more enthusiastically. You took a deep breath to steady yourself - it was hard to believe you were this lucky - and directed the pair to move closer together. They did, pulling their chairs forward and sideways...and you scurried between them, biting your lip as you looked between their twin bellies, almost identical in shape, size, and apparent texture. Then...unable to repress a little happy shiver of your own...you placed one hand on each of their stomachs, and began to work them over. Your fingers kneaded into the flesh, feeling the soft, supple surface of each titanic tummy. You trailed your fingertips over the plumpened sides and across the curve of their silky-smooth underbellies. You patted them, making both guts bounce and jiggle, and even drew figure-eights around their navel areas. Both of your friends sighed deeply and all but melted at your touch, their arms going limp, heads lolling back, jaws agape as they savored the sensations. “Oohhhhh...oh, no wonder you like doing this,” Ace drawled out. “This is...mmmm, this is AMAZING…” “That’s...ahhhh...mmmmm, that’s soothing,” Deuce crooned. “Thank you, Prefect…” “My pleasure, guys,” you blushed, giving their guts a couple of smacks. “My pleasure.” The pair just grinned and made happy humming sounds as they were pampered and spoiled. You couldn’t help but smile wider as you gave their greedy guts a couple of jiggles, hearing the thick soda-fueled stew slosh and splash and swirl about inside their bodies, so close to you… You were unaware of the fact that, as you worked on both bellies, the two opened one eye each, and looked to each other. Ace grinned wickedly...and Deuce smirked with faint impishness as well… ...And then… WHURLMPH. You let out a muffled yelp as, without warning, the pair shifted their postures...and now, both bellies were smushing agaisnt you, the warm curves of each swollen stomach heating up your already nearly-steaming cheeks. You blinked up shyly as you pushed against both guts to try and find some wiggle room...and your friends smiled down at you with almost identical expressions of mischievous affection. “Beter enjoy it while you can,” whispered Deuce. “Yeah,” chuckled Ace, and winked. “It’ll only be a week till we have our eating contest!” “Eating contest?” Deuce scowled. “Who said anything about that?” “Well...if you don’t think you have a chance at winning…” “I can eat you under a table any day!” “I dare you to prove it!” You sighed and shook your head, the soft flesh sliding across your own as you kneaded and caressed the bellies of your best friends. “Friends with benefits,” you were discovering, was a phrase with more than one definition… ...You hoped their argument wouldn’t go too quickly, though...right now, there was nowhere else you wanted to be, as you nuzzled against Ace’s stomach and patted Deuce’s with a smile. One of these days, you figured, you’d need to see a psychiatrist. But it was not this day.