#oc corbin

Eventually the van began to slow down, the ground had become uneven causing Corbin’s metal collar to rub painfully against his skin. When the vehicle stopped, his head jerked against the door causing him to wince. Before he could get his bearings the door was thrown open, the man pulled him out by the chain as the woman began scrawling something on a clipboard. He stumbled and was half dragged until he could finally keep up. It was after dusk and everything was dark apart from the windows from the large house they had arrived at which shone orange light on the trees and grass. The two spoke amongst themselves as if Corbin wasn’t there. It made sense, he wasn’t even a full vampire - just a spawn. Corbin stared at the ground as the front door opened, his eyes focusing on the rich butterscotch carpet. He saw the feet of the butler, his long legs bending oddly - typical for werewolves especially when close to the full moon. After a few signatures and a cordial but clipped conversation he was left with the servant, his metal collar was removed from his deathly thin neck. He kept his head down, knowing enough to get by unscathed. When he heard the butler whistle and turn on his heal, Corbin followed him finally looking up, he caught a glimpse at the lanky man with long, dark curly hair tied back in a neat ponytail. He knew looking up from the floor was usually worth a punishment, so like most did he only dared to do it in small glimpses.

The front hall was fairly bare, it was the standard in these homes and it was the reception room that truly showed off a family’s wealth and often contained the ancestors’ tapestries. This was no exception, as Corbin discovered, and he was great with enormous paintings that covered every inch of the walls. To the left there was a picture of an enormous man - he looked as if he was half the size of his previous owner. The plaque declared him as “Duke Inverness Newfoundland the first, 1823-1878. 823 pounds” and Corbin rolled his eyes whilst repressing a scoff. The pile of lard barely reached immobility, Corbin thought. A pathetic weight for the family to have a record of. Opposite him was the same man, but he appeared to be almost twice as big, instantly it became clear as to why - his fat was covered in thick black fur. His brown eyes were bulging from his body and white sharp teeth poked out of his muzzle. At the bottom was a plaque declaring him as “1232 pounds”. Corbin repressed a chuckle, it was still nothing to write home about.

The hallway continued in the same way, the subjects and numbers getting larger with every portrait until they reached the final doors. When the butler opened them he turned and clicked his fingers, Corbin halted instantly, and caught the slight smile on the butler’s lips.

“Now, vamp, here is the family you’ll serve,” he said curtly. Corbin looked up to see a painting so tall and wide he had to walk up and down to see the whole thing. The painting was mountains of adipose fighting for space and it took a lot of focus to figure out where the individual people were. Thankfully they were in human form, with only their sharp teeth and claws poking out from their doughy hands declaring them as werewolves which made it slightly easier. It was only through counting their heads that Corbin could figure out how many of them they were. It seemed there were eight of them in total.

At the top of the painting was a woman with a face as round and pale as the moon with thick greying brown curls framing her face. The silver and oak locks piled onto her meat slab shoulders and sticking to her neck roll from sweat. She wore a large gold necklace around her neck - which seemed like a specially made chain that was gigantic enough for her to wear comfortably. Her breasts were heavy, resting on her belly, which poured between her fat useless legs. She wore a thick, mahogany dress, it was the size of a circus tent and didn’t cover her got. There were two slits either side that showed the sides of her fat, bloated body pouring out. Pale fat pushing through the fabric. The plaque declared her as “Duchess Lucretia Newfoundland VI, 1972-. 2320 pounds”. To the right of her but slightly forward to show he submitted to her was a man around her age, his hair was completely grey, and he had blue irises poking out of a bloated, fat face. He was smaller than Lucretia, but instead of carrying most of the weight in his gut he held it in his thighs, behind, and breasts. He was dressed in a specially made suit, a white shirt that was stained with food and remained unbuttoned to display his fat. Corbin assumed this was “Duke Iago Newfoundland III, 1968-, 2003 pounds”.

The rest, Corbin assumed where six children and they took up the majority of the image. At the far left there was a mass of pale adipose so gigantic it was barely recognisable as a person. A head poked out of the tire of fat, two green irises, a pile of brown curls and a mountain of flesh that they hadn’t even bothered to clothe. It seemed none of the adult children did. His bloated hands poked out of his adipose, he looked dazed as if he didn’t even know a painting was being created. The sign noted he was “Marquess Iago Newfoundland IV, 1989-, 6288 pounds”. Perched atop of his gut and between two enormous breasted was another child nestled comfortable in the eldest boy’s adipose. He had blond curls that were styled into a neat plait that rested on his neck roll and fat shoulders, his blue eyes poking out between two pink plump cheeks. Corbin followed the standard pattern that had emerged of checking the name and plaque. It said “The Honourable Mercucio Newfoundland V, 1998-, 3154 pounds”. Next, there were two balls of flesh that were crushed against each other, one was on their belly with their breasts atop of the other’s abdomen, or what Corbin assumed was their abdomen. They both had caramel coloured hair, and their eyes were completely hidden by gargantuan cheeks and chubby forehead as their plump lips were contorted into giggles.

Assuming they were twins, Corbin immediately sought out the bigger plaque one that showed they were: “Liege Tavo Newfoundland, 2003-, 3059 pounds” and “Liege Callisto Newfoundland, 2003-, 3057 pounds.” To the bottom right of the portrait was someone it took Corbin a minute to figure out the outline of. It finally hit him that he was laid on his belly, only his breasts, arms, head, and the hips that dwarfed the rest of him was visible. His hair was the darkest of all of them, and his eyes were a dark green. The two irises almost looking like holes in his fat. He had a more menacing aura than the rest of them, and Corbin felt a tightness in his chest as he read his name “Lord Gaius Newfoundland II, 2004-, 3195 pounds”. The final child was perched in the middle at the bottom, lifting both adipose ridden arms and making peace signs with her chubby fingers. She stuck her tongue out, her blonde hair a tangled mess as the fat on her chest, neck roll, and face was covered in cheesecake crumbs. Her skin was a mixture of pale and pink, random bruises and dark red patches over her belly and hips, and she was coated in violent stretch marks. Out of all of them she was definitely the least well groomed. Corbin wondered if she was even family before he checked, and sure enough she was “Lady Megara Newfoundland, 2005-, 3002 pounds.”

“A curious bunch, aren’t they?” The butler said with a smirk in his voice. The sudden use of actual words threw Corbin from his focus, his body hunched and bent over, visually baffled and perturbed by being spoken to.

“Yes, sir,” his voice had become hoarse and thick. “Sir, is there a portrait of them in their purest form?” He had been beaten enough for saying ‘transformed’ or ‘as wolves/dogs’, he now used the terms the werewolves did in order to ensure his safety.

“Unfortunately no, the family are quite feral once they’ve transformed.” The butler’s black eyes sparkled, his lips contorted into a smirk. “The youngest boy Lord Gaius must be chained down because whilst he cannot move his fat typically, during the holy nights his muscles become developed enough for him to cause some true horrors.”

“I… I see, Sir.” Corbin tried to hide his anxiety and drying lips, his owners prior to this excluding the sexual harassment had been fairly tame.

“Lucky for you the Duke and Duchess bought you specifically to tend to The Honourable Mercucio. When transformed his fur becomes too thick for him to move properly, he just squirms and whines. However, he is unable to detect what is and isn’t food in that state, often tearing chunks out of the wall, and stuffing his mouth with bits of the furniture.”

“Has he- has he eaten a servant, Sir?” Corbin reluctantly asked, expecting to be scolded.