#dariusspeaks

"What do you mean 'I have to eat it all?' That's not fair, it looks like you barely touched yours!"

"Well, I've noticed you've lost quite a bit of weight since we've been hard at work on our boat-"

"So I'm losing weight. Isn't that a good thing? Feels better on my knees, at least."

Ford has his rebuttal ready, "Yes, but if you don't meet your calorie count you'll get tired tomorrow."

"Can it, Sixer, I don't think there's enough room in me for it."

"I insist that you-" Ford stops himself, picking up on what he himself was doing. He just wanted to see Stan finish his meal, on the larger side, to make up for what he lost. Subtly trying to overfeed him. "Never mind."

A silent moment passes of them sitting in the warmth of the restaurant, yellow lights quietly buzzing above them. Ford stares at the green leaves on his plate, before he noticed Stan's still frame. He glances up, to see Stan drilling his eyes into him.

"Why?" It's serious in tone, and he wouldn't have said anything else if Ford wasn't red in the face as if he was mad. Stan continues, "You think I'm not eating enough? Take another look at my gut, Poindexter."

"I just want to make sure you're well-fed-"

"Oh, so you think I can't provide for myself?" Stan sounds sour, getting angrier as he continues, "I did perfectly fine without your help for forty years so you don't have to treat me like a damn charity case-"

"It's not like that! I-"

"It's not? Then how come you're trying to force food down my throat? I'm not so geriatric that I can't fend for myself-"

"It's not that either! I suppose I miss how you looked-" The pressure Stan was putting on this was too much, now he's royally fucked up with how Stan thinks he's perceived by him. That's the last thing he wants.

"When I had more gut on me? So you want me to be this weak, feeble, helpless thing for you to repair-" Stan hisses.

Ford can't help his outburst, "I want you stuffed!" He can't have Stan thinking he's not strong. "I- I'm sorry," His voice lowers noticing the glances from other tables, "I'm very aware of your strength and capabilities. We've gotten drunk and you won the fistfight, you can clearly overpower me! I simply... like the look of said heft on your frame. I never meant to insult you."

Stan was intently listening to him, leaning back after he was finished as if to consider something.

"So you like my gut?" He says simply.

"Um. Yes, I-"

"You like when it's stuffed full of food."

Ford's not sure how to respond, it's beyond embarrassing now that he's being cracked down on in such a way.

"That's what a 'chubby-chaser' is called, by the way." Stan happily comments.

"What-" He's baffled at the terminology to describe his, well, affinity to the situation. "That's not-"

"I mean, you sure took your time watching me eat too. I noticed, you know. Even if there's heftier people at the place we're eating, you're always looking at me."

Ford's been caught red-handed after all this time. Now, Stan's going to call him out for being a freak-

Instead, he watches as Stan forks another steak bite and bites down on it between his teeth, really making a show of it as he moans through another bite. "You know what? I think I can finish this now."

"You don't have to, it was quite a lot of food-"

"Nah, I'm getting my money's worth. Plus, you ordered what you thought I could handle, right? Let's see if I can."

An oddly disturbed anxious thought about a ripped stomach lining sends a shiver up Ford's spine. This is exactly what he wanted. He gazes at Stan easily devouring the next quarter of steak and leftover potatoes. In the back of his mind, he knows he's never been so hard. To watch his brother do such a thing that he knows is turning him on, in such a public place no less. Bite by bite, it is demolished and Stan burps loudly.

"Hey, stringbean,"

Ford's eyes shift up from his stomach to meet his eyes.

"You wanna get out of here, let me crush you under all this weight I got?" Stan says so casually as if it weren't sexually charged beyond belief.

"That's a double negative, and besides, I'll be quick." Ford replied before starting to suck a hickey above his belly button, hand palming and grasping needily at the fat, then he quickly moved onto another location to litter his torso with marks. Hearing Stan grunt at each purposeful sensation, Ford tried not to grin as he jumped slightly when he sinks his teeth into his navel. His nose catches the scent of musk from the previous evening and needing to take a shower, shivering as he continued elsewhere.

Bite after bite he used a hand to palm at his belly, the other hand had dropped the shirt and was missing to Stan's eye. He figured out exactly where though, when his brother hissed against his stomach, a panting breath that ended in a cut off groan. He's definitely touching himself. "You're insatiable, Sixer. Can't believe you can nngh-" Ford bit down hard at one of the last marks, "-go again so soon after last night."

"Only for you," He replied, then marking Stan again with a nice hickey on the side of his belly. With Ford's face mushed into the soft skin and stroking himself quickly, his jaw lightly open and panting, Ford choked all too soon. He muffled a low, possessive groan by shoving his face flat against his twin's frame and exhaling hard through his nose.

Ford removed himself from the floor and stood to pull Stan's shirt back down, and kisses him on the lips before leaning in to whisper, "Thank you, your majesty."

-refuses to consume veggies normally. can't do them raw or cooked so they're blended after they're cooked. Stan's seen him borrow the blender immediately after Mabel makes Mabeljuice and doesn't wash it.

-takes five to six pieces of wheat bread and rolls it into a huge ball. Yes he takes off the crust. takes a bite every now and then and carries it with him like an apple. if asked, he says he's 'getting his fiber.' When Stan finds out (and he always does), he smacks Ford on the arm with a newspaper and tells him to save some damn bread for the rest of our asses.

-straight up eats raw garlic. what the hell man. 'Stan, it has antioxidants and anti-vampire properties.' your BREATH STINKS, DONT KISS ME RIGHT NOW SIXER I SWEAR- 'Alright, be bitten by a vampire tonight then and see what happens.'

"So that's what that is, huh? Thought you'd finally snapped on someone." Stan chuckled, walking over to the tarp. Ford steps forward to remove it in one grand sweep to reveal his work. The thing was huge, he'd guess seven feet tall with grey skin and four arms. It's face was a mess of tentacles. If it wore clothes, he wouldn't know because everything was on display. It's member was erect, bordering on painful just by size alone, he'd also guess that it's seven inches. The most striking thing about it was the slightly slanted ribs down the shaft. It's tip was a bit tapered, the only forgiving looking thing on it.

"You had sex with that thing?!"

"I did, yes, and I'd like to see you take it for a spin, so to speak."

It takes a moment of assessing whether or not he could accomplish such a feat. Ford makes a comment to help sway him, "It's much more soft and pliable than it looks, I would describe it as 'filling'."

Ten minutes later, Stan's straddling this monstrous cock over his lubed and stretched hole. Ford's watching from the other end of the couch and noticeably hard in his pants. He presses down onto the silicone material, feeling alright until he gets close to taking the tip entirely. It's large and it burns already, so he gives himself time to stretch and makes brutal eye sex with Ford while he does. Eventually, he was bouncing up and down on this weird alien cock, definitely feeling the ridges while feeling like he was being split open. It's too much and he doesn't last long, quickly touching himself and spilling his cum all over the muscled stomach of the model.

Ford makes a statement after in his flushed and enamored state, "I didn't last very long with it inside me, either. Thank you for entertaining me. I'll have the next model ready in a week."

"Next model?! You're making more?"

-

The next week, Stan finds himself standing before a very interesting sight before him in the middle of Ford's room again. His twin has just taken the tarp off of his latest model, a mass of pink tentacles measuring ten feet each. The ends were thin and slowly thickened, built into a huge massive base at the bottom.

"That's uh, tentacles."

"Yes! This being was desperate to have an orgasm as it was in it's mating season, I couldn't help but indulge when it asked so nicely."

"How do you expect me to screw this thing if it can't move?"

"Oh, it does. One moment," Ford says before going around to the back and kneeling to flick a switch near the base. Quickly stepping away, the appendages begin to move in all sorts of ways, touching the ground and seemingly searching for something. "And you'll want to take your clothes off now, it's going to be rather slick experience."

Again, Stan strips himself down and approaches hesitantly. His voice is filled with concern, "Are you sure about this? It's not gonna hold me in the air, is i-" a tentacle finds his ankle and he's overcome by several more darting towards him. In seconds, he's supported by many soft and slimy surfaces coating and exploring his body in a way. Somehow it learns, or maybe it knows just where to touch on his body because he soon gets hard. Its appendages focus on his nipples, rubbing smooth circles until they perk. He feels one twist around his hardening cock and stroke, with one gently rubbing at his hole and getting it wet with whatever slime his brother implemented.

Stan lightly pants, glancing at his twin from over his shoulder, "You enjoying this, Sixer?"

"Absolutely."

He's gently prodded open and lets out a small groan, little resistance due to the lube and soft surface. The patience it had while stretching him was oddly suspicious, like it was programmed to stretch an asshole in specific. Which is a little out of Ford's expertise.

"I bet you had help on this one," Stan states before moaning as the appendage inside him finds his prostate, gently stimulating him further and leaving him without another word.

Ford replies from somewhere behind him, "I did in fact outsource to another individual for the motion of the arms."

He chuckles at how that conversation must have went.

The act of being spread open for his brother on display and the stimulation he's getting from the tentacles slipping into his ass to hammer at his prostate. Knowing Ford was watching drove him up the wall. "Fuuuck, aaah, Ford!"

"So close already? I suppose there are a few differences. Needless to say, you look fantastic getting plowed by my machine."

Deep and possessive, it's the tone of his brother's voice that sends him over the edge. A minute of recuperation later, and Stan's being set down gently on the floor, slimy tentacles retracting from hims frame.

Ford turns off the machine, then walks to his partner to help him off the floor. "Thank you for entertaining my desire to see you with my previous partners. It satisfies me in a way I can hardly describe."

"Does that mean you're done making models?" Stan replies, sort of disappointed.

"Oh certainly not. There's more in store for you."

-

A week and a half passes, Ford yet again inviting him to his room for the next model. Before the tarp's uncovered, Stan comments, "Y'know it doesn't have to be a grand reveal each time. I know what you're doing now."

Ford passively sighs at him, saying, "Let me have my fun with revealing my hard work, will you?"

"Alright, alright." Stan waits as Ford pulls it off to reveal his current project. It's a small creature, maybe four and a half to five feet tall, looking almost human but having... cat traits. There was orange faux fur covering it, matching cat ears on it's head, and a tail coming out from behind it's back. "What is that?"

"It was an intelligent feline-adjacent species that invited me in after their head hunter found me and saved me from a beast of their lands. I, ah, ended up repaying him by being intimate with him and his wife, per their customs and culture, I was indebted to them and curious."

"Right. This one doesn't have a dick."

"This is the wife. She had a more striking fur pattern that was too tempting to not recreate."

"Uh-huh." Stan mutters, walking closer to see fat whiskers coming out of the cheeks on it's face, a wide-bridged nose and no visible lips. "And you want me to, uh, screw this thing too?"

"Indeed," Ford comes up behind him and settles his hands on Stan's hips firmly, "I would like to join you on this one, if you don't mind. It would better match the experience I had."

"You were in the middle huh? We ought to make the experience match then, right, Sixer?" Stan purrs.

Later, Stan has his cock stuffed deep in this model, with Ford moaning in his ear and fucking into him. He's practically doing all the work while Stan enjoys the odd texture of the insides of this odd toy, it's heated and tight, perfect for his release. Stan gets there eventually as Ford describes how different this species phallus' are. Thick and short but had such a defined tip that felt amazing as it passed by his prostate.

-

Three weeks pass with no new model, and Stan's the one who comes to Ford's room to ask about it this time.

He knocks on the door, enters to see no twin of his to bother. But he does see a hulking beast of a thing, the next model, yet again covered in dark brown fur and looking like what everyone imagines werewolves to look like. Sort of hunched over but still standing on it's haunches, it featured a gaping maw, as well as claws that came out of it's hands and feet. It was stood on the ground instead of the couch, as it should because it's huge. Yet again like eight feet tall-

"Stanley!" Ford's back and closing the door behind him. "I'm not done with this one-"

"Why's that? Looks pretty done to me." Stan observes the main appeal of the model, between it's legs hangs a pretty standard dick with, well, a soft of knot at the base. It's color was dark red, and huge nuts to go with it.

"The phallus is incomplete, I haven't implemented the tube and ejaculate function-"

"Don't you think that's a bit over the top? I mean, it's been three weeks, does it have to have that?"

"Yes! Unless you didn't want to be filled in the same way that I was. Which I know you do."

Stan grumbles for a second, before turning back to his brother. "Tell me when it's done, will ya? I wanna take this guy for a spin." He turns and leaves quickly, shutting the door behind him.

Ford smiles, delighted that his twin is impatiently interested in his design.

An hour later, Stan is summoned back to Ford's room. That was fast, he thinks, as he enters. Ford takes the adequate time to stretch him on the couch, explaining how he met this beast in a thicket of woods. He'd fallen into a hunters trap, designed for the beast itself. Ford was sniffed out because of the light bleeding, and the beast had said it would free him if it could use his hole for the night. Obviously, Ford took the offer to live, and had a great time during.

Now, the beast was positioned with it's arms on the ground, making the position easier for Stan to crawl underneath and have Ford help mount it into him.

"It uh," Stan starts, "Feels weird having such a big thing over me."

"It's quite an intimidating experience, I was afraid at first but it seemed to listen to my needs."

Ford sat back and watches as Stan thrusts himself on the beast's cock, getting the most perfect and whiny of noises to reach his ears. After a few minutes of Ford describing what the beast sounded like, what it said to him, Stan's legs get tired of doing the work.

"Hold on." Ford says, leaning forward and around the beasts leg. With a flick of a switch, the cock itself was jutting in and out of his hole.

Stan groans loudly, "Oh sweet Moses, yes," A few moments pass before he asks, "Does it uh, go faster than that?"

Chuckling, Ford does screw with the setting for a moment before the knot is hitting Stan's hole at a vicious pace. He goes cross eyed and plants his head on the ground on his arms.

"Do you think you could fit that knot inside you?"

"Did you?" Stan retorts, sounding up for a challenge.

Ford is silent, and slows the pacing down almost completely. Stan sits there for five seconds before he feels the lubed knot pressing against his hole slowly, stretching him open so wide. Somehow, it's inside of him and pressing against his prostate firmly.

As soon as Stan asks what happens next, it starts to fuck him again in short, hard thrusts that drag against his insides in just the right way.

Ford's voice comes to his ears, "I didn't last very long with this one either. That didn't stop me from letting him get his fill. I owed it my continued existence and wanted to repay as much as I could."

"Shiiiiit-" Stan moans, feeling so overwhelmed by Ford's description, by the knot practically over-fucking his prostate. He gasps as he's filled with a lot of liquid.

"It could not tell me when it was about to orgasm, I was completely blindsided by the amount of ejaculate it produced."

The knot slips out for a moment, the so called ejaculate spurting out of Stan's hole and trailing down his thighs. It's knot presses back in as quickly, him shuddering at the feeling. It fucks him again, and Stan grips his cock and jerks himself off until he cums hard.