#post-stuffing

The sweatpants Cal’s wearing are fine, but the t-shirt is riding up over his swollen belly. Convenient for rubbing his belly but not so good for being around strangers. He moves to the dresser - urrgh walking is even worse than standing - and gets out his biggest sweatshirt. At least the weather is cool enough for it.

Cal is one of the last people to get out of the building and after walking down three flights of stairs he’s resolved that his next apartment will be on the ground floor. He clutches his belly through the sweatshirt as his stomach churns and cramps, not taking kindly at all to being jostled when it’s so full. Cal covers his mouth for a strained little burp. He’s pretty sure that a deep belch would help with some of the cramping but this provides no relief.

The building’s tenants are standing on the sidewalk in small groups and Cal moves off to the side, completely uninterested in conversation.

Cal wonders if anyone would notice if he started rubbing his belly and if anyone would care. He wonders if it would be weird if he sat down on the curb. Cal is holding his belly with one hand, unable to let go. He feels miserable. What was meant to be a relaxing, pleasant night has turned into a nightmare.

“Hey, are you ok?”

Cal realizes that his neighbor from down the hall, Birch, has approached. Cal likes Birch: they’re friendly and sweet and the two of them have had nice conversations in the hallway, but Cal has been too shy to take it any further.

“I don’t mean to intrude,” Birch continues, “but you’re standing all hunched and look really uncomfortable.”

Cal considers lying but the truth - at least part of it - comes out.

“I have a stomach ache.”

“Oh,” Birch says with a concerned frown. “Here, come sit down.”

They place a gentle hand on Cal’s shoulder and the contact feels nice. Cal lets Birch guide him over to the curb to sit.

“Thanks,” Cal says quietly.

“Sure! Do you want some company or would you rather be left alone?”

Cal is usually perfectly happy alone but suddenly is very sure that he wants Birch to stay.

“Company would be nice, if you don’t mind,” he says a little shyly.

Birch smiles happily and Cal thinks their smile is really nice.

“I don’t mind at all!” Birch says.

Birch begins chatting about the weather and speculating about what could have caused the fire alarm. The conversation doesn’t require much from Cal but it’s pleasant and distracts him somewhat from how awful he feels. Cal feels comfortable enough to rub his belly a little but with nothing to lean back against, it’s hard to get comfortable.

After a while a fire engine shows up and the firefighters go inside.

“Well, they’re not geared up and they’re not running,” Birch observes, “so that’s probably a good sign. Maybe we can go back in soon.”

A particularly vicious cramp seizes Cal’s stomach and he leans forward, grimacing, unable to stifle a grunt of pain.

“Oof, that doesn’t seem good,” Birch says sympathetically, reaching over to rub Cal’s back.

“I really hope we can go back in soon,” Cal gasps.

The cramp ebbs a bit and he sits back up. He’s feeling really bloated.

Birch stops rubbing Cal’s back and he immediately misses the contact.

“Could you keep doing that?” Cal asks quietly, his need for comfort outweighing his normal shyness.

“Of course!” Birch says. They scoot a little closer to Cal so that they can rub large circles over the whole of his back.

The firefighters eventually come out and announce that there was an alarm malfunction and it’s safe to go back in the building. Birch stands and holds their hand out to Cal. Cal accepts the help to his feet, one hand remaining glued to his belly.

Birch holds out their arm. “I can get you settled back in your apartment if you want.”

Cal knows he should say you don’t have to do that: Birch certainly has other stuff to do and Cal is the one who got himself into this predicament. But Birch’s offer seems sincere and the only thing that feels even slightly good to Cal right now is Birch touching him.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” Cal says, peeking out at Birch from under his eyelashes.

“Not in the slightest,” Birch grins. They hold out their arm again. “Let’s get you home.”

Even though they take the elevator up, Cal’s stomach cramps hard as they’re walking. He can feel how incredibly bloated he is on top of the big meal still in there. The pressure feels awful.

By the time Cal is unlocking the door to his apartment, he’s sweating a little.

“You’re looking really pale,” Birch says gently. “Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”

“No,” Cal says, “it just really hurts.”

Cal shuffles into the apartment. He’s very relieved that he always keeps his apartment pretty clean.

“Do you have any stomach meds I can get for you?” Birch asks.

“Um, yeah. In the medicine cabinet. The bathroom is that door.” Cal points.

“Yeah, my apartment has the same layout,” Birch smiles. “Why don’t you get comfy and I’ll get you that and some water?”

“That - um, that would be great but - um you don’t have to do this…” Cal trails off. He desperately wants Birch to stay but he feels like he’s asking too much.

Birch blushes and looks down, rubbing the back of their neck. “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well but I like you, and I really like taking care of people. If this is at all weird for you I will definitely leave but if you’re up for it, I would really like to stay and help you feel better.”

Cal takes a deep breath. “I would really like you to stay.”

Birch beams. “Great! Go lay down. I’ll be right in.”

Smiling, Cal heads into the bedroom and kicks off his shoes, takes off the hoodie, then lays down on the bed. A groan of relief escapes his lips. Cal finally brings both hands to his belly and looks down at himself. Oh god he’s so bloated. He starts rubbing his belly.

Birch enters a minute later with a glass of water and the bottle of pepto. They frown.

“I know I’ve really only seen you in the hallway, but I’m pretty sure you don’t usually look like that. No wonder you don’t feel good.”

“Yeah, I’m really bloated,” Cal grimaces, sitting up.

Birch shakes two pills out of the bottle and hands them to Cal along with the water. He downs the pills and drinks some of the water. He sits very still for a moment as his insides burble, then quickly covers his mouth as he gives a deep burp.

“Sorry, excuse me,” he says, putting the glass on the nightstand.

“Don’t apologize,” Birch says. “It seems like you need a lot more of that. Can I sit with you?”

“Yeah I’d - I’d like that.” Cal shifts over so that there’s plenty of room and lays down.

Birch sits on the side of the bed and draws one leg up so they’re facing Cal.

They chat for a bit about living in the building and where they moved from and their jobs, with Birch doing most of the talking and Cal rubbing his belly.

“You still seem pretty uncomfortable,” Birch observes after a bit.

“Yeah, still not feeling great,” Cal admits.

“I could try massaging your belly?” Birch offers. “A different angle might help.”

“Would you?” Cal asks, thinking it’s the nicest offer he’s ever received.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

Birch moves a little closer and places their hand over Cal’s stomach just below his ribs, immediately feeling the angry grumbling.

“Oh dear,” they murmur. “Let’s see if we can get that to quiet down.” They sweep their hand in gentle circles over the area. “Ok?” They glance at Cal.

“More than ok,” Cal says with a sigh. His stomach still feels awful but just being touched kindly is helping him relax.

Birch smiles and strokes a little more firmly. Cal feels a burp bubbling up in his chest and tries to swallow it down, not wanting to gross Birch out. Birch must be able to tell because they frown.

“Hey don’t hold that in,” they admonish gently. “This bloating isn’t going anywhere if you don’t let yourself burp.”

“Just didn’t want to be rude,” Cal says meekly.

Birch laughs. “Don’t be silly. Let it out.” They give Cal’s belly a friendly pat.

Cal smiles. A minute later he turns his head to the side and covers his mouth as he gives a deep belch.

“Oh that’s better,” he breathes, as his belly finally feels marginally less tight.

“See?” Birch grins at him.

“Yeah, I definitely needed that.”

Birch moves their hands around Cal’s belly, soothing extra tight areas and coaxing up more belches and burps.

Eventually, though Cal still feels full, the uncomfortable pressure of the bloating has receded. He sighs happily.

“That seems a little better,” Birch says quietly.

Cal yawns. “So much better.” He yawns again. “I guess I’m kind of sleepy.”

Birch gives his belly one more rub and a pat. “You should get some rest.”

“Thank you,” Cal says earnestly. “I seriously can’t thank you enough.”

“My pleasure,” Birch says with a grin. “Really.”

“Would um would you want to hang out sometime?” Cal asks. “Maybe I could buy you dinner or something to say thank you?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Birch smiles. “I’m going to go. Don’t get up!” they add quickly when Cal starts to sit up. “You just rest, I can let myself out.”

“Thanks Birch,” Cal says around another yawn. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yep,” Birch says, heading for the door, “see you soon.”

Cal is asleep moments after the door closes.

~~~

“Damn Shitty Hair! Fuckin’ feedin’ me all that motherfucking food… Fucker better be glad I’m too fuckin’ stuffed to chase after him… Damn asking me for fucking critiques… Fucking fucker … Fuck!”

There's only one person who swears so much in a few sentences, Deku thought as he made his way out of the bathroom. Oddly enough, for once, he wasn’t the source of incessant mumbling. His classmates would probably have commented on that if they weren’t out doing their own thing on a sunny Saturday.

Well, everyone except for Todoroki, who scrolled through his phone at the kitchen table, and -

“Kacchan? Are you - woah. W-what the heck happened?”

“Fuckin’ Shitty Hair happened, ya damn nerd.” Todoroki glanced up from his phone.

“If I recall correctly, you made no move to stop the plates of food Kirishima asked you to critique. In hindsight, you over-ate because you were hungry from your morning run-”

“Don’t tell me what I did, Half-and-Half bastard!”

Izuku sighed before his eyes widened. Bakugou’s stomach currently stuck out a good foot, hiking his black tank top up and exposing his aching organ. Fortunately, his black sweatpants had no buttons to lose. The stomach churned away, eagerly processing spicy udon, katsudon, beef strips, calzones (he told Shitty Hair to use fuckin’ pepper jack next time), iced tea, and a crisp Coke.

GWwWooOOoorn…

Bakugou flipped Todoroki off (he was too busy hearting Momo’s Instagram page to notice) before tenderly caressing his bloated stomach. Deku came over.

“Are you okay, Kacchan?”

“Tch! Do I look like I’m okay, ya fuckin ner-”

GWwLOURP!

His stomach gurgled angrily. Bakugou felt a pocket of air dislodge and make its way up his throat.

“Kacchan, that sounded bad. Do you think we should -”

BUHuuUuuUUUUUUUuUUuUUURP!

The boy in question threw his head back and unleashed a loud, chunky belch. He grunted when it ended.

“Tch, still feel more in there…” Deku scratched the back of his neck.

“What did you eat to make you so… bloated?”

“NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS, SHITTY NERRRRRRRRD!” He belched the last part of his insult before putting a fist to his mouth.

MMMMMMMMMMMMRRRRRPH!

“Guh! I’m gonna murder fucking Shitty Hair when this is over!”

“Kirishima? Now that you mention it… Where is he?”

“If he’s smart, he’s hiding from my raAAAAAAAaaAAaOOOOOURP!”

“Your rage?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, FUCKING DEKU!!”

“Kirishima ran off after Bakugou chased him around the kitchen.” Two pairs of eyes faced the Heterochromia-eyed teen, although one pair was flaming with rage.

“Don’t you dare finish that though, IcyHot,” Bakugou seethed. Todoroki glanced at the boy’s stomach.

“Kirishima was trying out several new recipes and asked if Bakugou and I wanted to be his samplers. We agreed.” Deku could hear Kacchan raging internally, not unlike his aggressively churning stomach.

“We said yes, and Bakugou devoured pretty much the whole plate while giving out various insults. ‘Add more heat, Shitty Hair’, 'when I bite this, I want to feel some fucking crunch’, 'just right’, 'give me more…’ This went on until Bakugou rendered himself immobile and threatened to blow Kirishima up, who ran away laughing.” Todoroki shrugged and motioned to Bakugou, who burped deeply into his fist. “That’s why I’m not currently nursing a bloated stomach.”

“Half-and-Half Bastard…!” Bakugou’s eye twitched as he gingerly stood up.

BWOorOoGL!

“I’m gonna make you pay for that…” Unfazed, Todoroki hearted another one of Momo’s pictures before he stood up.

“Guys, wait!” Deku shoved his way between the two of them, bumping into Bakugou’s stomach in the process.

Big mistake.

OWOURGull…!

“Kacchan, if you’re the one who ate a-all that food, then -”

“Get the fuck out my way, Shitty Nerd.”

“No.” Todoroki flexed his right hand.

Oddly enough, Bakugou… relaxed. And shrugged.

“Your loss.”

His shit-eating grin did little to settle Izuku’s nerves.

Bakugou placed a hand on his angry stomach and pushed. HARD.

BLouurWouurgl…

Izuku’s faced paled at the very rich grumble.

“That didn’t sound good.”

Todoroki finally realized why Bakugou wasn’t attacking and tried to warn his friend.

“Midoriya, he’s going to -”

BREEEEeUUUUuuUUUUUuuuUUUuUUUUUAAAAARP!!

“… Burp.”

Poor Midoriya. Too shock to move out the way, he could only take Kacchan’s eight-second belch point blank.

“What the heck, Kacchan?!” He spluttered while coughing and fanning the air to displace the smell of beef and cola.

“Told ya t’ move, Shitty Nerd.”

GurWOL!

HUU-HOOoooooOOOOUUUUUUUUUUURP!!

Todoroki blinked while the bassy, gaseous expulsion erupted out of Bakugou’s mouth. Izuku frowned.

“At least it’s better than trying to blow me up… But it still smells…”

“Oh yeah, speaking of blowing up…” Izuku took several steps back as the explosive blonde wrapped his arms around his stomach and squeezed.

BUUUUOOOOOooOoOOOOWUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOORP!!

While his stomach-soothing skills could use some work, it was decent enough to unleash a colossal belch that roared on for a whopping ten seconds. Izuku felt sorry for anyone outside the dorms who heard that behemoth (and secretly hoped Aizawa wouldn’t wake up from his nap).

The belch finally came to an end, leaving Bakugou’s stomach relatively deflated. Now only sticking out a good six inches, it didn’t affect the hero-in-training’s mobility as much.

That wasn’t good for a certain redhead.

“Kacchan,” Deku moaned while waving his hand, “quit blowing your burps over here.” To this, Bakugou forced out a chunky afterburp and made sure to blow harder.

“Now it smells like udon…”

“That’s whatcha get fer tellin’ me what to do, Shitty Nerd. Now…” He turned towards the doors leading outside with an eerily gleeful expression.

Kepp whimpered again. He somehow managed to find his voice, speaking slowly and carefully, trying not to do anything that would incite Bela to use that gas on him. Kepp, better than anybody, knew there was more to Bela’s belches than a bad smell and some noise… “Would you…like me to, um…t-to fetch you something from the cupboard? Master?” he peeped, patting that jiggling blubber pot. Bela purred, and nodded wordlessly, before undoing the leash on Kepp’s collar. Kepp let out a breath of relief, and hopped off of the couch before sprinting to the kitchen. He returned quite soon, holding a jar in his hand. The demi-cat God let out a rumble of approval as he extended a clawed hand elegantly. “Good boy,” he crooned, as Kepp placed the jar in his hand, and the God of Gluttony peered through the glass at the prisoner inside. Within the jar was a shrunken human being, dressed in nothing but a pair of underwear. They were only a little older than Kepp, and looked particularly frail and puny, with dirty blonde hair and a gangly framework. Bela clucked his tongue. “Poor, pitiful little morsel,” he cooed, in a mock-sympathetic tone, as he began to open the jar. “Perhaps this is a mercy, as I’ll only be putting him out of his misery…” Bela snickered; he, himself, was the cause of said misery, and he knew it. Kepp sat cross-legged on the floor, watching expectantly with wide purple eyes. The little figure in the jar mumbled something and began to stir, as the sound of the jar being opened awakened them. A pair of hazel eyes blinked blearily open…then, upon seeing the lid fall away, jolted to a full state of awareness, heart pounding as a shrill sound of fear left his little form. Bela smiled widely, his lethal fangs on full display as his orange eyes burned deeply into the puny thing’s tiny irises. “Hello, my little one,” Bela purred, in his most luxurious of tones. “Did you have a good sleep?” The shrunken human gulped nervously, and paused, clearly trying to decide on his answer…before finally speaking up, in a voice almost as small as he was: “It was…decent, L-Lord Bela.” Bela rolled his eyes. Why did the vermin seem to think lies would help their cause? “I’m pleased to hear it,” Bela lied right back, and then cocked his head slightly. “What is your name, small one?” “A-Alexander.” “Mmmmm…a great name,” Bela replied, and chuckled at his own inside joke. “Well, little Alexander…since I know you were fibbing about your rest, I am sure you will be grateful to hear that your all-powerful, all-consuming God of immensity is going to help you.” “H-Help me?” Alexander responded, suspiciously, glancing back through the glass to Kepp, then up at Bela again, crawling back until he was pressed up against the “wall” of his jar. “In…in what way, uh…My Lord?” “Simple. I’m going to put you to sleep. Permanently.” Bela snickered at the look of mortification on the little one’s face at his words. “Awww, now don’t be scared…I shan’t devour you little one. Nor shall I smother you, nor even crush your bones. No, no, no…but believe me, having said that…” He now held the jar in both hands as he brought it closer to his face. “...You might wish that I did, once this is over.” BRRRRROOOOOORRRRRRMMMMMBLLLRRRRRG… Another belly-shaking rumble came from the gut of the gluttonous God. All eyes turned to look at his stomach…then, Bela grinned devilishly at poor little Alexander, who was trembling like a frightened mouse, shaking his head desperately. He, like Kepp, already knew what was about to happen. “No…n-no, no, please! Please, Lord Bela!” he begged, and moved to his knees, hands clasped. “Not…not that! Anything but that! Swallow me, make me bleed, but PLEASE not…not THIS!” Bela was panting. A deep mrowl of pleasure left him as he moved his mouth and the top of the jar closer to each other. “Silly…silly…thing…the more you beg…the more I want to hurt you. Just a few belches…that’s all it will take…are you ready? If not, too bad!” And with that, Bela began the bizarre torture. “BRRRRREEEEEEAAAAAUUUUURRRRRLLLLLCH!” The gas flooded into the jar, in an invisible cloud of purest, most pungent stench. Kepp caught only the slightest whiff of it, and that was enough to make him cough slightly and cover his mouth, a tremor flickering across his spine. The goosebumps he felt prickling him were caused by a mixture of sudden adoration for his awful owner…

…And the slight chill that flowed into his bloodstream as Alexander let out a squeal…then began to gasp and choke, instantly falling onto his side on the bottom of the jar. The little fellow felt his stomach lurch at the reek; he spasmed on the bottom of the jar, trying to keep himself from vomiting at the putrid horror. Bela snickered and raised an eyebrow as he saw his victim respond to the odor. “Awww…a little too nasty?” he teased. “N-No!” coughed Alexander. “S-Stop, it’s not-!” “No?” Bela repeated. “No, it’s not nasty enough, you mean? Well then…” He took a deep breath, pumped his chest, and belched sloppily; slobber splattered from his jaws, speckling the inside of the jar’s rim, the awful odor piling itself onto the lingering slob-stench of the first. “How about that one?” he asked innocently. Alexander groaned; the world already was starting to feel fuzzy. The stench made and heat of the gas swarming into his glass enclosure made his head swim His lungs felt like they were being seared from the inside-out. His sickened guts roiled as he gasped and gulped, trying to find some fresh air…but all he could find was Bela’s inner odors. “Stop...stop, please!” the poor thing managed to choke out. “Oh, are we weakening already?” Bela crooned, and snorted. “Pathetic. Like all your kind.” “Why...why are you...doing this?” “Because I can,” Sulten said simply, and his cheeks ballooned before - flabby lips flapping - he let out a lower, breezier burp into the hole. “Brrrrruuuuuuooooorrrrrrrph…” Alexander felt a pained sob creak in his chest; even his tears seemed to burn his cheeks as he felt them crawl over his cheeks. His vision became a moist blur. It was happening, he realized. He was really able to do it. He’d heard stories from others, but he’d thought them to be myths…up until Bela had made the threat. Now, that threat was a reality, and it was more horrendous than he could possibly imagine. The quieter belch smelled so foul, it turned the shrunken mite’s skin green. He felt as if he were drowning, the miasma of deathly stink wisping into his miniaturized lungs like transparent tendrils. The God of Gluttony cackled as he watched his toy writhe and claw at their neck. Every burp, Bela was controlling to make it stinkier and more toxic than the last. If this kept up, Alexander would suffocate on his pure stench. Just when it looked like the littone one was about to start begging again, he burped once more. “UUUUUURRRRRRRLLLLLLUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPH! Mmmm...that felt good coming up,” grunted Bela, and thumped his bubbling grub tub with satisfaction. He chuckled darkly as Alexander let out a feral sort of keening sound, shaking his head desperately and fighting hard not to breathe it all in...without success. The foulness was inescapable, poisoning his mind, infecting his airways, till all the small creature could think of, all he could sense or reasonably comprehend, was the cat man’s belch gas. Alexander’s terrified frenzy of pain only heightened as he realized the venomous reek he was was fighting against was formed from who knew how many innocent lives, damned to a sloppy, stinky death inside the size-shifter’s gasbag of a gut. How bad did it have to be in there to form an odor this literally poisonous?! He scrambled to the nearest wall of the jar, his tiny nails squeaking and screeching against the glass. He looked imploringly into the eyes of Kepp, who was watching with morbid fascination. “Help...help me…!” “Fear not, small one!” boomed Bela. “I shall help you…to your grave. BRRRRAAAARRRRRRUUUUUUCK!” Another burp flooded the jar…and Alexander began to yowl and screech. His words faded into unintelligible, deranged babble; an incomprehensible string of insane gibberish as all he could feel now was foul agony. You could pick out every single morsel of food the beast had eaten recently in that foulness; a rotten stench of acrid death and sludge-coated, muscular power. You could almost envision the organic hellscape that must have been inside of Sulten’s stomach just from the odor alone...you could imagine the agony of a hundred sentient beings just in that floating foulness that wafted through the air…

Ace had given you a set of playing cards and poker chips, winking as he promised to give you a chance to put them to use. Deuce, meanwhile, had been much more sensible, purchasing some cooking apparel he knew you could put to good use. Riddle Rosehearts, meanwhile, brought you some cherry tarts he and Trey had made together. Cater Diamond also appeared, and had bought a new external drive for your laptop computer. “I would have gotten you a new phone,” Cater had smiled. “But I didn’t think you needed one. Speaking of, BIRTHDAY SELFIE! COME ON OVER HERE…!” Idia hadn’t stayed for the party, but his brother Ortho had been happy to pop in. The two had pitched their cash together to buy you a new game system, along with a new game to play on it. Idia had personally sent a birthday card, as well; according to Ortho, his hands had been shaking so much trying to figure out what to write in it, he thought his brother’s fingers might fall off. All Idia had written in the card was, “Have a nice day,” probably because he had freaked out at the thought of saying anything else. Poor dear. Somebody – you weren’t sure who – had very, VERY wisely remembered to invite Malleus Draconia, who came with Silver. Silver spent most of the party sleeping, but Malleus had been kind enough to bestow a gift of his own, in the form of a leatherbound edition of The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe. Naturally, Kalim had shown up, tugging Jamil along behind him. Each had a different gift to give: Kalim had brought a VERY expensive looking carpet, done in the ornate styling of his homeland. “It’s been in my family for…um…uh…” he had paused to try and count the years on his fingers…and eventually ran out of fingers AND toes to count on. “…A very, very long time! Like…SUPER long! I thought it might look nice in your bedroom or the ballroom or something! It’s, uh…it’s not too much, is it?” Gods bless that Baby Otter. He needed so many hugs. Jamil’s gift had been much more reserved: a mancala game box, which he had presented all while trying not to blush under his black hood. Vil had stopped by for a short while; he’d only stayed briefly, claiming the “decadent atmosphere of your gloomy domicile” would mess up his hairdo. (Go figure.) However, he had kindly brought you a gift in the form of custom-made suit of clothes he had ordered from his own personal tailor: some of the finest and most formal wear you had ever seen in your life. “Now you can actually look halfway presentable, instead of resembling a half-baked potato, next time there’s a big event,” he had smiled, as if he had been doing you a tremendous favor. Well. With clothes like this, you weren’t going to argue or complain. Azul had stopped for a brief “hello and goodbye” visit; he actually wanted to stay longer – Floyd, who had been with him, seemed particularly sad he couldn’t stay and squeeze his favorite “Little Shrimp” half to death all afternoon and evening…and in his case, that phrase was probably literal – but the Mostro Lounge was open that day, and he didn’t want to leave Jade in charge of things alone for TOO long at the office. The octopus man had brought you a bracelet covered in small seashells: simple, but surprisingly sweeter than you had expected. Floyd, meanwhile…he just hugged you. “What’s a better present for Shrimpy than a nice, tight SQUEEZE from their bestest, most favorite eel-person…riiiiiiight?” The safety of your spine and lungs demanded you agree and hug Floyd back. Ruggie and Jack had been among the first to show up. The latter had brought a hastily-wrapped DVD: a movie entitled “The Wolf of Pumpkin Hollow.” “I didn’t get this because I actually care,” he had clarified, looking everywhere but at your face and scratching the back of his white-eared head. “Just…everyone else would have thought it was rude if I didn’t get you something. Not that it matters what they think! Just…didn’t want to have to put up with it.” He was such a puppy. He truly was. Not only was Ruggie one of the first to arrive, he turned out to be THE first to give you your gift: a box of doughnuts. All glazed. “My grandma used to tell me: ‘Ruggie, get people the same kinds of gifts you’d want them to get you.’ Well, I can’t think of much I want more than doughnuts!” he sang out with an innocent smile. “You just wanted to have some to eat yourself, didn’t you?” you couldn’t help but smirk. Ruggie had gasped, seemingly offended…only to eventually ask if he could have some. The four remaining doughnuts – which you had to sneak away while the hyena wasn’t looking – were now on a plate in your fridge. You’d eat them later. Others had come and gone throughout the day; none of them had gifts to bring, but they had been happy to pop in, give well-wishes, and enjoy the party for a while. Now, however, all the guests were gone; even Grim had left, as you had asked him for some alone time that night. He and the gang from Heartslabyul were going to have a sleepover as a result. Despite the smile on your face as you looked over at your gifts, there was a hint of sadness to your expression. The one person whose presence you’d been looking forward to most hadn’t come. You’d asked his dorm-mates if they knew where he was or what he was doing, but none of them told you. Most of them very clearly had no clue…except for Ruggie. You got the feeling he DID know, he just wasn’t telling. Honestly, that didn’t settle your mind much. Your smile faded completely, and you closed your eyes once more, sighing through your nose…this time with a hint of despondency. Had he forgotten it was your birthday? Was he with somebody else right now? Maybe he was sleeping somewhere, like the big, lazy kit he was…some part of you – you couldn’t tell what part – kind of hoped that was all it was. He probably wasn’t hurt or sick…if he had been you’d think Ruggie would have told you… You glanced out the window. Evening was turning into night. You huffed softly through your nostrils, and stretched a bit where you sat. The party had worn you out more than you thought. You shook your head to clear it of your more perturbing thoughts, and began to wonder if you should just get to bed early tonight… A knock came at the door, jolting you to a more attentive state. You stood up from the ouch and headed out through the hall to the foyer. You wondered who it was…had one of the guests left something behind? As you approached the door, you adjusted your pristine white suit – another obligatory item for those celebrating a birthday at Night Raven College – which must have made whoever was on the other side impatient: they knocked again. “One moment, I’m here!” you called out, and opened the door. “Who’s-?” You froze, the word “there” dying before it ever reached your larynx. The first thing your eyes took in was the familiar, dimly-glowing pair of green ones staring back at you, as well as the dark mane and leonine ears and tail that accompanied their owner. A scar was slashed across one of the two eyes. The second thing – and the one that truly made you freeze – was the ENORMOUS, bare belly that was only inches away from you. The skin was tanned and smooth and supple-looking, the organ swollen to the size of a large watermelon, and only slightly less taut. The navel looked like the center of a maelstrom, drawing your attention towards that bloated gut as it let out a deep, burbling rumble…just before a black-clad hand slapped over it, hiding it from sight. At the same time, another hand suddenly scooped itself under your chin…and you found your head being tilted up, your eyes now locking on a pair of perfect-looking, velvety lips…which then parted to reveal a gaping, red mouth, dripping with saliva and framed by two rows of pointed, pearly fangs. You barely had time to take in the view of this glistening, slimy orifice…before your ears rang and your nose crinkled as two words were burped up. Right in your face. “HAAAAPPY…BUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP-DAY!” The belch was followed by a light sigh and a chuckle as Leona Kingscholar patted his stomach proudly. It jiggled at his touch. He smirked as he took in your expression: a loopy, flushed look was on your face. You were swaying so much that if he removed his hand from under your chin at that moment, you might have just toppled over. “Hm-hm-hmmm…did you like that?” he purred, smoothly. You nodded dumbly, still smiling a loopy, dazed smile as the sound reverberated in your ears, and your nose tingled from the lingering odor of the lion’s gut gas: a strong, heady, meaty smell that twined through the pockets of your gray matter, practically putting you in a trance for several long seconds. Finally, you found your voice. “…Where have you been?” “Preparing your present,” Leona said, as if that should have been obvious, and gently nudged you back as he entered the house and swaggered past you. With every step, his hips swung, and you found your blush seemed to be permanent as you watched them rock and sway as he strutted towards the living room. You followed him as if a leash had been tied ‘round your neck, and watched as he flopped onto your couch, gut sloshing with every little motion of his form. He was dressed in his usual clothes, but his gut was so massive it caused his mustard-colored shirt to ride up, exposing his belly to the world. The lion demi growled as he reached down; his waistband was still buttoned up, and clearly it was causing him discomfort. His fingers fumbled for the belt buckle…and he frowned as he couldn’t quite get it to cooperate. “Tch. Figures,” he grumbled. “After that entrance…pain in my ass…” The familiar phrase snapped you out of your stupor, and you chuckled, rolling your eyes. You sat down next to your princely boyfriend, and shooed his hands away. He frowned, growling indignantly, but allowed you to fiddle with his buckle, and finally managed to work it off… POPK! ZZZRRRIIIP! GUHBLORLSH! Leona let out a sound between a sigh and a grunt as – the moment the buckle was released – his trouser button gave up the ghost, popping open as the zipper flew down, the sheer weight and pressure of his belly forcing them open. He sighed as his belly poured into his lap like a mass of mocha-colored dough, wobbling as it noisily burbled. “UUUUUUUURRRRRRRROOOOOOOOAAAARRRRRRRP!” he belted out. “Oof…that felt good…” You blushed bright red, helpless to do anything but nod; you were already starting to tremble at so many…APPEALING things happening all at once. Leona smirked anew as he noticed your expression, leaning back a little further against the sofa cushions as his scarred eye flashed with a superior gleam. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” “How much did you eat?” you asked, marveling at the size of his belly as you fingers fidgeted and twitched, looking for something to do. You suddenly felt a little parched… “Mmmmm…not enough,” Leona growled, and grinned wider, revealing his pointed teeth. “I could fit more in there, I’m sure…” He licked his lips in a sultry, almost inviting way. You couldn’t keep yourself from letting out a shaky, shuddering sound as you shivered, a mixture of warmth and cold flickering across your spine. Leona chuckled – his gut bounced with his mirth, and tilted his head back with a sigh. “Ahhhhhh…went to my favorite buffet and helped myself,” he elaborated as he gave his belly a few hearty slaps. “Pure meat, every ounce.” You nodded slowly, dumbly. Leona snorted through his nose, raising an eyebrow as he saw you openly ogle his stomach. “Hmph. Are you just gonna stare at it all night, Herbivore?” he grunted. He waited till you looked up at him before going on: “Go ahead. It’s not gonna rub itself.” Your heartbeat quickened and you smiled widely. Leona grimaced and snarled. “Oi…just rub, don’t gimme those eyes…you look like that brat back home…” You chuckled – it was hard not to giggle, honestly – and gratefully helped yourself to your “present.” Your hands quickly fell over Leona’s bloated gut as he stretched his arms over the back of the couch. You scooted closer, and quivered at the intense warmth of the half-lion’s greedy, globular gut. Your palms and fingers began to lightly run across his girth, stroking his belly, just to get a feel of the texture and temperature. His flesh was silky-smooth, making it so hard to resist just pressing your face against it and nuzzling into his belly… You did resist though. At least for the moment. Instead, your fingers began to knead and massage the belly of your beau, pressing down onto the thick soup you could feel churning away inside his bowels. You prodded experimentally, almost as if trying to distinguish each bit of food from the next…but there was no way you could. Whatever Leona had gobbled up was now little more than a uniform mush being swirled about by his strong stomach muscles. His insides warbled and rumbled, as if in response to your ministrations. Leona sighed, closing his eyes and savoring the way you massaged his distended tanker. In truth, the lazy lion didn’t need much of an excuse to stuff himself…but you didn’t care that much. Whether he did this for himself, or for you, as he claimed, the end result was the same. “Mmmmm…that’s it…keep it up,” he mumbled. “Wasn’t planning on stopping,” you said, more to yourself than him, but he snickered anyway. “Heh heh…good. Prey like you should be happy to have a chance like this,” he said, and playfully patted your cheek, causing your blush to intensify. A spike of ego shot up in you, and you purposefully pressed down harder against his stomach. It let out a HUMONGOUS groan, and Leona’s eyes widened and his cheeks ballooned…before he let out another sloppy, rumbling belch. “BUUUUUUUHHHHHHHUUUUUUUURRRRRRLLLLLLLUUUUUUP! Haaah…oi. Not so rough,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at you, tail lashing and thumping against the sofa cushions. “Sorry,” you smiled innocently. “You had so much hot air in there, it clearly had to be let out.” Leona’s eyes narrowed further. “I could turn you into dust right here and right now,” he said, warningly. “I guess you could,” you said, smoothly, and then traced a finger around the rim of his deep, dark trench of a navel. The effect was instantaneous. Leona tensed up for a second, inhaling sharply through his teeth…then sighed and relaxed, all but melting into his seat, eyes fluttering closed again as he purred louder than ever. You smirked triumphantly, as you stuck your finger into his navel and wiggled it around a bit. “Still want to turn me into dust?” you teased. Leona could only moan. He moaned even louder as you cupped one hand on the underside of his belly: the softest, warmest, most sensitive portion of his abdomen. You gently rubbed your hand against them, and traced your fingers over his sides. You could hear his toes curl in his boots; his tail you could SEE curl into a spiral shape as he bit his lip with pleasure. “I’ll take that as a no,” you observed, a dreamy sort of sigh upon your lips as you were honestly enjoying this just as much as he was, a fact you made clear you when you half-consciously murmured: “You’re so SOFT…” “Mmmm…I’ll be softer once it’s all digested,” Leona mumbled. “Vargas is probably gonna complain…think he’d pester me about that stuff if I ate ‘im?” “I think if you ate Coach Vargas, you’d just get a bellyache,” you said, not wanting to add that someone as egotistical as Leona eating someone as showboating as Vargas probably meant all the weight would to his head… …Cracks like that weren’t funny, and could get you bitten. The second part you didn’t mind as much as one might think, to be fair. …You really needed to see a shrink… Leona just scoffed, unaware of your thoughts as you continued to rub and massage his belly. You gave the side of his belly a few hearty thumps, watching the way his belly shifted and jiggled like a water balloon. His stomach groaned and churned rhythmically, squelches and squeals of liquid being compressed and stirred echoing just beneath the luscious skin of the half-lion prince. It sounded like a huge vat of semi-solid mash being pumped and processed in a factory…a sound some might have considered nauseating, but you just bit your lip, rubbing and kneading more vigorously as you heard pockets of gas being released. As you kneaded and pressed down, Leona would BELCH and BURP periodically. Each was short and low, which only made you rub his gut more vigorously. He gave you a bored sort of look as he realized what you were doing. “Didn’t get enough to drink at your party, did you, you thirsty little Herbivore?” “Not even close,” you responded, without skipping a beat. Leona rolled his eyes, and held up a finger in a “one moment” gesture. He then curled that same finger down, balling that hand into a fist…and pumped his fist against his chest once, twice, thrice…before unleashing a true wall-rattler, which flapped his lips and made him go crosseyed. “GYYYYUUUUUHHHHHEEEEERRRRRWWWOOOOAAAAARRRRRIIIIIPLK!” Leona sighed as the eruption came to an end, and snorted as you squeaked at the sound. “Happy now?” he drawled boredly. “Very,” you peeped, patting his belly thankfully. Leona rolled his eyes as he scratched the side of his gut with his leather-tipped fingers, making it slosh under your palm. You quivered. His lips quirked. “Tch. You’re such a snack,” he muttered. “It’s amazing nobody’s already gobbled you up…” “Just lucky so far, I guess,” you shrugged, and scratched his belly with your own fingers. Leona let out a non-committal rumble…then smirked a bit. “We could fix that, you know,” he purred in a slippery, sly way. You froze, and looked up at him slowly, a little confused and slightly apprehensive. Leona smiled back, eyes half-lidded; the dominant, powerful, but affectionately amused smile that always left you shivering for all the right reasons. Then, one of his his hands lifted, and cupped your cheek. He brushed a thumb against it, and you smiled gently back… …Just before that same hand slid forward, and wrapped around the back of your head. “Here,” he growled, commandingly, as he began to force you downwards. “Listen. Feel.” You didn’t have much choice, and it wasn’t as if you would disobey if you could. You surrendered easily as he eased you down against his belly, pressing your head down and holding it firmly, curling his hand so one of your was right above his navel. You felt your chest flutter as the warmth of his body was now right up against your face, and the deep, thick GRRRROOOOLLLLLLG sounds of his ever-hungry belly echoed in your ear like rolling thunder. You stayed perfectly still; time and place seemed to fade into nothingness. All that mattered was the moment: you were hypnotized by his belly, barely conscious of anything. He started speaking, but it took you a few seconds to realize what he was even saying. “…I’d you’d like it, huh?” were the first words you made out, followed by still more: “I could swallow you alive, Herbivore. You’d slither right down my throat, curl up in my stomach…and never come out. I’d just fall asleep, and let you stay there. It wouldn’t have to hurt: one big burp, and your air would be history. Then, you’d go straight to my hips…my thighs…my ass…even my belly. Every part of me you love most.” He paused, purring as his stomach let out a greedy, longing rumble. “How does that sound for your birthday, Herbivore?” he crooned. “How would you like to spend your birthday – your LAST birthday – turning into more of the body you’re so in love with. To be the snack you’re supposed to be. To spend the rest of eternity as just a part of me.” None of these were spoken as questions. You shivered and let out a whimpering sound – not necessarily one of fear, either – as you heard him lick and smack his lips. He leaned down and sniffed at you, purring in the back of his throat. “Mmmmmmm…I could make that happen. Right here. Right now.” You bit your lip; as his stomach rumbled, you closed your eyes. You could picture yourself inside of there…partially submerged in acid and bubbling goo…embraced on every side by his powerful muscles…hearing him belch with satisfaction above and around you…rubbing over you as you were steadily digestedinside of him… You took longer than most people probably would before speaking. “I know you could,” you said, very softly, then added, “Maybe someday you will.” Leona blinked…then puffed with amusement, his smile growing slightly more affectionate as he ran his fingers through your hair the way a cat might. “Not ready to make this birthday your last, huh?” You opened one eye and carefully shook your head. “If it means next year I could get one as good as this, or better, definitely not,” you responded, without skipping a beat. Leona clucked his tongue, and removed his hand, letting it rest against the back of the sofa. He chuffed as your remained where you were, despite no longer being forced down. “Kinky little morsel,” he mumbled. “Guilty,” you responded in a slightly muffled voice as you freely nuzzled his abdomen, smirking as he purred anew, clearly enjoying it. Leona chuckled, and nudged you, indicating he wanted you to look up at him again. You did…and watched as his cheeks ballooned with gas as he caught a particularly low, gassy burp in his mouth… “HHHHRRRRMMMMLLLLRRRRPH…phoosh.” …Before blowing the residual fumes into your face, almost like a kiss. You nearly fainted dead away. Leona grinned. “Good?” was all he said. “Marry me now.” Leona barked out a laugh and gave your hair a ruffling, then shut his eyes and reclined peacefully once more. “Get back to rubbing, meat,” he growled. “Or I might just swallow you whether you want it or not. Don’t let your gift go to waste.” You smiled and eagerly got back to work, kissing and nuzzling and rubbing his belly worshipfully, without any sign of restraint. Leona’s purring heightened as you pampered his plumpened middle. “Mmmmm…happy birthday, Herbivore,” he growled. “Maybe next year, I’ll add you to my hips…” At the rate things were going…that was starting to sound like a promise more than anything else. If so…you could hardly wait till next year.