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Though Stolas had a say in the cake, he did not have a say in who attended his birthday celebration. Even as he stood on the furthest end of the room, his back flush to the window, Stella’s voice was clear as day.
"How fitting that the damned pansy would want a cake with flowers in it!" she said, and a chorus of laughter ensued.
Stolas had a sharp tongue, but these days, he knew better than to use it. He reached for his fork; a mouthful of lavender lemon cake would keep him docile for the time being.
Just focus on the taste, he reminded himself. The richness of the buttercream frosting, the way the earthy, floral aromas blended with citrus was almost enough to drown out the voices surrounding him. He let the frosting melt on his tongue, the soft cake crumbling in his mouth.
Heavenly, he thought once the plate was clean. He mulled over getting another slice, eventually saying fuck it and approaching the dessert table.
To Stolas's relief, nobody remarked on him helping himself to more cake. Maybe his family was cutting him some slack on his birthday, or maybe they had simply forgotten he was there. The latter seemed more likely. He took a bite of pure frosting to distract himself from that depressing realization.
He wondered how anyone survived gatherings like this without sweets or alcohol; nobody really enjoyed these sorts of things, did they? Stolas pondered this as he dug into yet another serving of cake.
Which slice was he on? His fourth or fifth? Either way, he’d clearly eaten one too many, because he was suddenly aware of a heavy sensation in his midsection. His suit felt much tighter than it had been at the start of this party, and his stomach made a noise he was thankful couldn’t be heard over the mingling voices of the crowd.
Stolas excused himself— as if anyone would have noticed his absence to begin with —and made his way to his room to recollect himself.
The moment the door was shut he leaned against the wall, undoing the buttons on his jacket with a relieved sigh. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and did a double take, taken aback by the way his belly curved outward. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d eaten this much, now that he thought of it. Warnings of "No Goetia has ever been fat; let’s keep it that way" had ruined his appetite more times than he could count.
As Stolas rubbed his aching stomach, a little burp escaped his beak, followed by a mumbled “excuse me.” A silly thing to say when nobody was around, but it wasn’t a habit he intended to break.
He felt like he should be mortified by this. He should suck his stomach in, refrain from eating for the rest of the night. Yet that feeling of disgust never sank in, and instead he felt something else—something hot between his thighs.
Stolas was turned on by this.
With one hand lingering on his abdomen, the other slipped lower, nudging his pants down and stroking his wet pussy. He shut his eyes and imagined that the hand on his tummy was not his own.
"You got a baby on board, Stols?" Blitzø would surely say. He would squeeze his belly, taunt Stolas about how fat he'd get if he kept this up.
Would he enjoy that? He'd spite the Goetias and awaken a new kink in his beloved imp; two birds with one stone, a saying that his family detested but Stolas found darkly amusing.
The thought didn't take long to bring Stolas to his climax. The hand stroking his belly quickly cupped his beak and muffled his moan.
Once the remainder of his orgasm fizzled out, Stolas pulled himself together. He wiped the cum from his thighs and stuffed himself back into his snug clothing.
Stolas waited for that post-orgasm regret to come, but it never did. If anything, the thought of Blitzø feeding him cake with one hand and stroking his overstuffed gut with the other threatened to get him wet again.
But he couldn’t spend all night pleasuring himself; forgettable as he might’ve been, someone would notice his absence eventually. So he took a deep breath and, once he'd cleared the fog in his head, he made his way back out to the party for his sixth slice of cake.
In the weeks that followed, Stolas began sending his imps on nightly trips to bakeries. Cake, muffins, fruit-filled pastries, tarts, truffles; so long as it was sweet, Stolas would request it and devour every last bite.
It got to a point where some of them had surely caught on. But if they did, who would they tell? Who would believe an imp’s claim that the Goetia prince was a glutton?
Each night would begin with a tray full of desserts, and it would end with a stomach stuffed beyond its limit and the hot sensation of post-orgasmic bliss.
It was pleasant, having this shameful indulgence for himself; a rebellion of sorts.
At least until the bloating was no longer bloating, and the curve of his belly had become soft rather than firm.
"Are you getting fat?"
The venom was heavy in Stella’s tone. With a huff, Stolas tossed his head and forced the buttons on his shirt together. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're speaking of.”
"Are you seriously that stupid? It’s as plain as fucking day, you dipshit!" Stella crossed her arms. “You are seconds away from bursting out of that vest!”
"That was sarcasm, a concept I’m certain you’re familiar with.” Stolas narrowed his gaze. “But if you must know, then yes, I am quite aware of what my own body looks like, considering I am the one residing in it."
Stolas brushed himself off and looked his outfit over in the mirror. His vest rode up on his feathered torso just a tad; a trip to the tailor would be in order soon. "And I happen to like it,” he continued. “You never have sex with me anyway, so what does it matter to you that I’ve gotten a little rotund?" As if to taunt her, Stolas patted his belly to emphasize his point.
The look of disgust on Stella's face was one Stolas saw near daily, so it didn't faze him. But what followed, however, was another story.
"If you think that whore of yours is going to be into this, you are sorely mistaken," Stella hissed. "I don't know when you last fucked him, but the next time he sees you he is going to turn right back around and find someone else to fuck. So it's a good thing you're fond of this, Stolas, because not only are you humiliating me, but your little imp fleshlight as well!"
Stella stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind herself. With a sigh, Stolas sat on the edge of his bed.
Blitzø was rather open-minded in the bedroom. Few things disgusted him— he'd stated upfront a few of his hard nos, none of which Stolas had been all that interested in anyway— so surely something as tame as this wouldn't be a dealbreaker, right?
And hell, even if Blitzø wasn't aroused by Stolas's weight gain... It wouldn't be enough to end things altogether. Blitzø wasn’t some shallow prude.
At least, Stolas had always thought that was the case, but now that Stella had sowed the seeds of uncertainty, he wasn’t so sure anymore.
Stolas had welcomed the changes to his body. He adored the softness of his belly, the way his face had become a tad rounder, the tightness of his clothing. But there were many things Stolas loved that others found repulsive.
In a matter of hours, a full moon would glow in the night sky. Only then would Stolas know for certain.
Dusk crept closer, and no matter how much Stolas dolled himself up— he took a bath with the cedar fragrance Blitzø loved so much, slicked back the feathers on his head and fluffed the ones on his chest— he couldn’t shake Stella’s words from his mind.
“As soon as he sees you, he will turn right back around and find someone else to fuck.”
And Blitzø could do that with ease. Stolas wasn’t the first to go to bed with him, and he wouldn’t be the last (as much as he yearned for that to be true.)
He became so lost in his own thoughts, staring at his reflection and wondering if all of those nightly indulgences had been a mistake after all, he didn’t even hear Blitzø climbing up the balcony.
“Watcha lookin’ at, Stols?”
Stolas instinctively sucked his stomach in as he spun around. Blitzø stood before him, dressed in a white button up and skin-tight leather pants. He dropped his tote bag on the floor, filled to the brim with strap-ons and other sex toys that made Stolas’s heart skip a beat.
“Oh, just—making sure I’m presentable!” Stolas ran his fingers through the feathers on his head, puffing out his chest in hopes that it would minimize the curvature of his belly. Sucking it in only did so much damage control, it seemed.
“Presentable? Oh, don’t sell yourself short, hot stuff,” Blitzø said with a grin.
Before Stolas knew it he was pinned to the bed, Blitzø straddling his waist as their lips met in a hot, rough kiss.
Strong hands explored Stolas’s body, taking in every inch of his soft figure. His fingers sank into Stolas’s thick feathers, running through the fluffy tuft on his chest. Stolas shivered, arching into Blitzø’s touch—
And then his hands moved lower, stopping at Stolas’s stomach.
Their gazes met. Blitzø squinted at him.
“Stop doing that.”
Stolas’s blood ran cold. “W-what ever do you mean, Blitzy?”
“Stolas, I’ve fucked you enough that I know your body like the back of my dick, so don’t act like I won’t notice what. You’re. Fucking. Doing.” He poked Stolas’s belly, earning a startled yelp. “Your stomach’s all tight and your breathing is fucking weird.”
“I… I still don’t know what you mean,” Stolas said, cheeks burning hot as he avoided his gaze.
“I know what you’re doing and trust me, I’ve been there. But I don’t give a cat’s ass, so stop sucking your belly in, it’s killing the vibe,” Blitzø ordered.
He hated that word, belly. Yet Blitzø didn’t speak it with disgust as he often heard from others. So, Stolas let out a sigh, his soft abdomen following suit.
“I’ve… let myself go.” Stolas admitted. “I may have had a slight awakening a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve… indulged a little too much.”
Blitzø raised an eyebrow. “Like a sexual awakening?”
Damn it. Stolas laughed nervously. “Perhaps. I… I’ve discovered I quite enjoy the feeling of overindulgence. Of sweets in particular. And I may have gone overboard lately, and it’s had…. Consequences.”
Blitzø pinched Stolas’s love handles. “Yeah, I fucking noticed. Never took ya for a feedee, but I should’ve guessed you royals are nasty, kinky fucks.”
“Pardon?”
But Blitzø didn’t elaborate, tail lashing with excitement as he grabbed Stolas by his shoulders. “Hey, how fast can you get an entire cake in here? You rich cunts have personal chefs, don’t you?”
Stolas swallowed. “We… I do. It wouldn’t take long, they’re quite efficient—”
“Do that.” Blitzø dragged a claw along Stolas’s feathery chest. He shivered. “The sooner you call one of those imps the sooner I can shove an entire cake down your throat.”
“So… you’re fond of this manner of… indulgence as well?” Stolas’s eyes widened.
“Stols, what part of get us a fucking cake isn’t clicking? If I didn’t wanna get my rocks off to you making a pig of yourself I would say fuck no like I did when you asked me to roleplay as a nebula getting sucked into a black hole.”
“I still think that would have been incredibly sexy, but I get your point.” Stolas grabbed the phone from his nightstand.
One phone call and a couple minutes of heavy kissing later, there was a knock at the door. Stolas retrieved a box from his servant, nodding his thanks before shutting the door.
Blitzø’s eyes widened once he removed the lid. The cake was decorated with bright purple buttercream flowers and sugar-coated lemon wedges.
“Damn, that’s fucking gorgeous. Too bad we’re about to destroy it,” Blitzø said, rubbing his hands together. “And yes, I said we, because even though I’m the feeder here I’m not turning down some free cake.”
“Do help yourself! I would never eat in front of you without offering you a fair share,” Stolas said with an affectionate hoot. He noticed his servant had provided them with several forks, as if assuming he had a crowd in his room.
“Mhm. Now get comfy, because you’re not gonna be getting up for a while,” Blitzø said.
Stolas propped himself up against the pillows, going to unbutton his shirt in preparation—but Blitzø stopped him before he could.
“Keep it buttoned. That makes this shit all the more fun,” he purred.
“You sound as if you’re speaking from experience.” Stolas raised an eyebrow.
“That’s because I am. Verosika was a bitch, but a kinky one.” Blitzø grabbed one of the forks and scooped up a purple rose. He held the forkful of frosting to Stolas’s beak, which he daintily accepted.
“Ah, even the frosting has a hint of lavender this time! They've truly improved their recipe,” he remarked once he’d gulped it down. Upon noticing Blitzø’s puzzled expression, he added, “Have you never had lavender lemon cake before?”
“What, like the flower? You can eat that shit?” Blitzø stuck his tongue out in disgust.
“Of course you can! At least give it a try before you decide you hate it.” Stolas huffed.
“Ugh, fine.” Blitzø plunged the fork into the cake and stuffed a huge bite into his mouth. As he chewed, his skeptical expression faded, one of delight taking its place. “...Gonna be honest, that’s not as bad as I’d expected,” he said. “Sure as fuck isn’t red velvet, but it’s good.”
“I knew you had excellent taste!” Stolas beamed proudly. “But you do know red velvet is simply chocolate with red dye, don’t you? The red doesn’t add anything flavor-wise, it’s merely—”
“Shut the fuck up and eat your flower cake, bitch.” Blitzø stuffed another forkful of cake into Stolas’s mouth before he could protest. “And don’t talk with your mouth full. Mind your table manners and all that gay shit.”
Stolas moaned, gulping down the cake and swiping his tongue across his beak. “Well, we’re in bed, not at a table, so technically–”
Another forkful of cake silenced him.
“Less talking, more cramming this cake down your gizzard.”
Bite by bite, the empty space on the plate grew, and so did the heat between Stolas's legs. Every now and then Blitzø would take another nibble for himself, clearly growing more fond of the dessert with every taste he took of it.
As the cake vanished, Stolas became more aware of how tight his shirt was getting. The buttons strained, silver feathers peeking through the widening gaps. A loud gurgle came from his bloated gut. Face flushing, Stolas placed a hand on Blitzø’s before he could feed him another bite.
“Sorry—I need a moment.” He looked away, cupping a hand over his beak.
Blitzø shrugged and scarfed down the mouthful of cake he was about to feed Stolas instead. “C’mon, birdy. Don’t chicken out on me yet. You still got, like, eighty percent of the cake left–” It was closer to a fourth, but Stolas didn’t bother to correct him.”—and I’ve been helping you. You gotta finish it.”
“I will, just–” Stolas hiccuped, struggling to swallow back the rising sensation in his chest. Shit, he really needed to burp. But Blitzø was staring right at him, and he wasn’t sure what was worse; holding in that disgusting feeling, or making such an unpleasant sound in front of the man he was falling for.
Blitzø, however, quickly caught on, a sly grin spreading across his face. “What’s the matter, babe?” He cupped Stolas’s stomach. “Got a tummy ache? I think you just gotta make some room.” Blitzø kneaded his hands into his abdomen, not breaking eye contact for a second.
He couldn’t hold it anymore—a loud belch escaped Stolas’s throat. He immediately clasped his hands over his face with a whimper. “Fuck! I mean, excuse me, I didn’t mean to do that! Goodness, that was so—”
“Calm the fuck down, I did that on purpose.” Blitzø pressed on Stolas’s belly again, and the belch that followed was smaller than the last, enough so that Stolas could at least muffle it against his fist. “This is part of the whole kink experience, birdbrain. You pig out, you’re gonna burp. It’s hot, now fucking embrace it.” As if to emphasize his point, Blitzø let out a huge burp as well.
Stolas peeked between his fingers after a long pause. “If… if you insist,” he reluctantly said, slowly moving his hands back down to his sides. He wasn’t above being crude in front of Blitzø, but burping around him was something else. It would take some getting used to.
“Think you made enough room?” Blitzø waggled an eyebrow as he scooped up another hunk of cake.
Stolas muffled another quiet belch against his fist. “Pardon me. Yes, I think I’ve made room for a little more.”
“Stop excusing yourself, it’s hot.” Blitzø rolled his eyes as he stuffed the forkful of cake in Stolas’s mouth.
Stolas wanted to say something about how he wasn’t born in a barn, so of course he was going to excuse himself when his body made unpleasant sounds—but another forkful of cake quieted him, and he decided to save it for another time.
Instead, Stolas let his eyes fall shut, relishing in the tight, bloated sensation in his stomach, those sharp nails raking across his round belly, the sweet, decadent taste of the cake on his tongue. This was heaven, he was certain of it.
“You’re doing great,” Blitzø praised, patting Stolas’s tummy and pushing out another little burp. He grinned at the blush that spread across his feathered face. “You like this, don’t you? Just letting yourself be lazy and pigging out. Keep this up and your tailor’s gonna have some work to do.”
“Oh, yes…” Stolas hiccuped. “My clothes are already getting rather snug… I think the others have noticed, but I don’t give a shit. Especially if you don’t. I’ll delight as much as I please without a care in the world, letting my body grow plump and soft…”
“I can tell. You look like you’re gonna burst outta this thing,” Blitzø teased. “Surprised you can even breathe right now.”
He placed his hands on the buttons, giving Stolas a knowing look. “You wanna keep going like this, or do you want me to undo your vest before it pops? Just one of these buttons probably cost more than my rent…”
“Truthfully, I wouldn’t mind ruining this shirt. I have others just like it,” Stolas said. He didn’t want to unbutton the vest before finishing the cake, that much was certain. The way his buttons strained only added to the hot sensation growing between his legs.
“‘Course you do, you rich fuck.” Blitzø shoved another rich forkful of cake in Stolas’s mouth.
With each bite he took, Stolas felt his breath growing heavier. He feared his limit was just on the horizon. Fortunately, it wasn’t much longer until the cake was nearly gone.
“We’re getting there,” Blitzø said, seeming to notice Stolas’s desperation. “Calm your cloaca, I’ll help you. I’ll take one more bite, and the rest is yours. Sound good?”
Stolas went to respond, but a burp came out instead. Blitzø snickered at that, and Stolas, now too embarrassed to speak, simply nodded.
Blitzø did as he’d promised, scarfing down a generous bite of the remaining cake and taking a moment to savor it.
“Damn, that’s so fucking good. I’m getting full, too,” Blitzø admitted, patting his belly. It wasn’t nearly as taut as Stolas’s, but there was an obvious curve that hadn’t been there when he’d arrived.
He licked his lips and scraped up the last of the cake, making sure to salvage the remains of the purple frosting on the plate as well.
Stolas placed his beak around the fork and gulped it down with a soft moan. With a belch, Stolas heaved a sigh of relief. "It's done. Fuck, I can't believe we ate that whole thing..." he said, panting heavily.
"We sure fucking did." Blitzø chuckled. He leaned in for a kiss, cupping Stolas's soft face. “Nice work, birdbrain,” he praised, voice gentle and breath smelling of lavender and lemon. He placed his hands on Stolas’s rounded tummy. “How’re you holding up? That was a fuckton of cake. I hope it all goes to your ass, heheh.”
Stolas would have laughed any other time, but all of that sugar was quickly catching up to him. His stomach ached like hell, sharp cramps cutting into his sides with even the slightest of movements. It gurgled as it struggled to digest all of the food he’d just consumed.
“Ah, it hurts…” Stolas whimpered, furrowing his brows as Blitzø rubbed his belly.
“Kinda figured that,” Blitzø said. “...Does it at least hurt in the kinky way?”
“Ugh, I don’t – urrrp – I don’t know,” Stolas said, blushing bright red. “I fear I’ll vomit if I eat anything else, but my mouth is so dry. Perhaps I’ll digest a little better if I have some water?”
“...Does diet root beer count as water?” Blitzø said. He leaned over the bed and reached into his bag. “I'm always drinking this shit. Pretty sure my blood’s made of the stuff at this point.”
Stolas wanted to ask him in what fucking world would diet soda count as water, but he didn’t care—he needed some kind of fluid, and perhaps the carbonation would ease the nausea, too.
“It does not, but I will drink what you have available,” Stolas said, and Blitzø held the bottle to his beak. Stolas chugged down the sweet bubbly liquid, moaning as it trickled down the sides of his mouth. He could feel his already-overfilled stomach expanding with each sip, straining against his shirt —
A single button popped, and the rest quickly followed suit. Stolas’s stomach freed itself from its restraints, spilling onto his lap.
Blitzø tossed the now-empty bottle aside and groped Stolas’s tummy. “Fuck, look at the size of this thing! Never realized how fat you'd gotten until the shirt came off,” he teased, giving it a little squeeze.
Stolas let out another loud burp. “Pardon,” he said with a low laugh, still disregarding Blitzø’s earlier complaint about excusing himself.
He laid his head back against the pillows. From this angle, the curve of his gut obscured his view of Blitzø, who was now straddling his lap.
“You’re so fucking hot right now. I'd paint you right now if I could,” Blitzø said, stroking the underside of Stolas’s gurgling stomach. Something had softened in his tone when he spoke, eyes half-lidded as he admired Stolas’s form. The tough, dominant Blitzø that ruled the bedroom had stepped aside, the tender, caring version taking its place. Stolas adored both sides of Blitzø with a passion.
“You're a work of art yourself, my dear…” His eyes fell shut as Blitzø's gentle hands glided across his tummy.
Blitzø's tail curled into a heart shape. “You did so good for me tonight, baby.” He scooted downward so that he was level with Stolas’s midsection, pressing a soft kiss to its center. “Keep this up, and you’ll be fucking huge. You think you’d like that?”
“Oh, I would…” Stolas rested his hand on top of Blitzø’s, smiling sleepily at him. “Very much. Especially if it’s by your hand.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Blitzø moved again so that he was at Stolas’s eye level, cupping his face and kissing him softly.
As they parted, Stolas rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “I know we’re both unbearably horny right now, but… would you perhaps be disappointed if I took a bit of a nap?”
“Hell no. Kinda impressed you’re still awake right now, to be honest,” Blitzø scoffed. “Besides, I got two hands,” he added, quirking an eyebrow as his free hand wandered down between his thighs.
Stolas chuckled lowly. “Thank you, my dear. Perhaps when I awaken, I’ll have the stamina for some lovemaking…”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t sweat it,” Blitzø said. “...I’m still gonna beat my meat while you’re sleeping, though.”
“Have at it, my darling,” Stolas purred.
He let his eyes fall shut, Blitzø’s loving belly rubs ushering him into his food coma.