Chapter Text
Po Learm blinked his eyes open at noon to the same sight that filled his horizon every morning: the curved mountain of his permanently pregnant belly. He’d rolled onto his back at some point, so it towered over him now, draped by his sheet, the weight of dozens of eggs putting immense pressure on his prostate. Fuck, it was so much. He moved two inches and paused as an orgasm rocked through his body.
He felt the eggs push through his urethra, stretching and expanding his cock. They each forced open the slit at the head of his dick and burst out of him, accompanied by a gush of sweet milk, joining the mess of dozens more eggs he’d laid in his sleep. One, two, three…ten total? A smaller batch this time.
Once he was done moaning and whimpering, Po rolled himself upright. His bed was a fucking mess, as it was every morning, drenched in milk and piled with golf ball-sized obsidian eggs with swirly pink heart designs and tiny iridescent speckles.
With a sigh, he heaved himself up, grabbed his laptop off the floor beside his rickety old bedframe leg, and waddled to the bathroom.
He flipped his laptop open on the counter beside the sink, started it up, and opened his browser. The homepage was set to the Hellscape social media profile of his favorite livestream, Conquest Of The Otherworlds.
This morning, they’d posted, ‘Thro found a promising signal. Looks like we’ll be hunting a Devil’s Chalice later. Stay tuned.’
Hell yeah. The Chalice hunts were some of Conquest’s most exciting content.
Po lived in the Ambrelloshian Queendom, a country of mostly blue demons, although he was a half Hazaelian mix himself, with mottled hot and cold skin, gold eyes, and one red and one blue horn that curved up and forward.
Demon culture was divided into seven Sins, assigned at birth by the color of one’s soul, as appraised by a mage. Everyone of the same Sin or type inherently shared similar values and interests, and were therefore raised for similar roles and jobs.
And Po was a Wrath demon. As a naturally courageous and adventurous fighter, he’d been raised in one of the warrior classes, immersed in the bloody thrill of battle from the moment he’d been able to hold a wooden club. He’d been a promising Lieutenant, excelling in breaking people’s kneecaps with his favorite morning star, until the witch incident when he was nineteen ended his military career.
Long story short, he’d been sent to chase off a witch camping too near Wrath City, and he’d come back…like THIS. With a permanently round, heavy belly that constantly refilled with eggs no matter how many he pushed out.
The curse had destroyed Po’s hopes and dreams, and crushed his spirit. It’d ruined his body, dissolving most of his organs into one giant egg sac and saddling him with well over a hundred pounds of fat—most of which settled in his wide ass—that he couldn’t lose no matter how hard he exercised. His slow and awkward body, and the orgasms it had about every twenty minutes as it manifested more eggs, made him hard to hire, and drove him into poverty.
He’d eventually thrown himself off the Wrath City bridge and was disappointed to wake up alive in a fisherman’s shack. But the old Sloth demon who’d saved him had introduced Po to Conquest Of The Otherworlds.
Po now lived vicariously through Conquest, working a part-time job at the local grocery store to afford rent and internet.
Opening the livestream page to wait for today’s show to start, Po climbed into the shower and let the cool water wash away all the milk that had dried to his mottled skin overnight. He lathered his hands with body wash and got scrubbing. His ass was so fat he struggled to reach around to clean all of it, squeezing his wobbling blubbery backside and juicy thighs. Then it was onto his belly, kneading the sensitive orb and cleaning the grooves of his stretch marks. Above that, his tits were swollen with milk, like a pair of lactose water balloons. He was careful with them, as he didn’t want to waste the milk down the shower drain.
“Hey, you damn demons!” Conquest’s host said from his laptop as the stream started.
Po shut off the shower and grabbed his towel from the rack.
Wrath Captain Nunch Ucks grinned into the camera. He was a mix, like Po, with Hazaelian crimson skin, wavy black hair, orange eyes, and Ambrelloshian white horns poking up at diagonals. Actually, the entire team except their cameraman must have been mixes, because unlike Po, they’d all inherited Hazaelian height, starting with the shortest, Nunch, at fucking eight-foot-eight. For reference, Po was four-foot-two.
But Nunch wasn’t only a demon mix; he had human and elf blood as well. His human heritage wasn’t as obvious—just something subtle about the shape of his body—but his Elven heritage was obvious. Demons had small, pointy ears, but Nunch’s ears were long and pointy, flared out to the sides almost like triangular wings. They were so cool. Elves were extremely rare in the Queendom, being such a reclusive people, and Po had never seen ears like that in person.
“We’ve got a grand adventure planned,” Nunch said. “So grab some lunch and strap in for the ride.”
That was the plan, but first he’d have to dispense his lunch. Once he’d toweled off, Po grabbed his bucket and lay the towel on the bathroom floor. He kneeled on the soft fabric just as he felt another orgasm coming on. More eggs squeezed into his cock, and he pumped his length as they poured out of him.
No, he wasn’t masturbating to Conquest; he happened to be watching Conquest while masturbating.
Okay, to be fair, Nunch was smoking hot. So was Wrath Captain Thro Wingstar, the nine-foot-four cyan demoness with sparkling white hair and blunt horns in the shape of upside-down lowercase h’s who was next to arrive. She was their magic tracker and enchanted artifact appraiser.
Next came Wrath Captain Kat Ana, ten feet even, who may have been a full-blooded Hazaelian, actually. The pink demoness had carmine eyes and wore her long carmine hair in a messy bun to keep it out of her face. She was one of the team’s main fighters.
And finally, their main fighter, and Po’s favorite member of the Nunch Box, marched across the crimson cobblestone ground of the courtyard: Wrath General Morn Ingstar.
Although he was Nunch’s fraternal twin, and they had similar faces, the eleven-foot-three azure demon, sporting upward curved black horns with sharp outer ridges and smoldering crimson eyes, was beautiful and badass beyond belief. Morn’s tight black tunic did nothing to conceal his rock-hard muscles, and his thick neck looked like he could probably snap the spiked leather collar around it without assistance from his hands. Even the poor video quality of Po’s shitty old laptop did nothing to stop Morn’s dazzling white smile from making Po swoon.
Gods, Po had the biggest fucking crush on this man.
He opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled his favorite azure dildo from the small clean bag of sex toys he kept there. It perfectly matched the General’s skin color.
Po’s ass was always loose, magically elastic and lubricated with milk. After washing the dildo, he had no trouble sliding it up inside him, trying to imagine General Morn fucking him stupid as he worked the milk out of his overfull tits into the bucket below.
‘Oh, Po, your ass is so slick,’ he’d say, strongly sliding in and out as his giant hands squeezed Po’s burgeoning belly. ‘The curse made you so fuckable. You take my giant cock like a champ.’
Mm. Yeah…
Of course, Morn would never actually do or say those things. He was a powerful and accomplished Wrath General, living in the legendary tower of Wrathgard on the slopes of the great volcano Mount Tabbiramae, with his pick of just about any single lady—or man, if he were gay, which Po didn’t think he was, but a pansexual demon could dream—in the Queendom. The country’s most beautiful Lust demonesses would be honored to let Morn bang them. He’d never settle for a fat cow like Po. So Po settled for his azure dildo and his wild imagination.
The Nunch Box members geared up for their adventure as Po finished milking himself and toweled off again. He tossed the dirty towel in the laundry basket outside his bathroom door and realized he’d have to do laundry tonight. Ugh.
Speaking of which, he added the eggs from last night to the bucket and stripped his bed, adding the soaked sheets to the laundry basket. He’d put on fresh ones tonight, after meals and work.
Po waddled to the kitchen with his bucket in one hand and his laptop in the other. He set the laptop on the counter so he could watch Conquest while he got out a frying pan, lit a burner for it, and started cracking eggs. They sizzled in the pan, filling his apartment with a spicy smell.
Cursed scrambled eggs with a spritz of lime and hot sauce, and a tall glass of sweet milk. His usual breakfast. Or lunch, because he usually woke up at noon.
Po mostly survived off recycling his own eggs and milk. The curse left him ravenously hungry all the time, and his part-time job stacking boxes at the grocery store didn’t pay well enough for a diet of real food. So he fried up his own eggs with store-bought sauces and seasonings, and they were somehow enough to recover more than the energy his body put into making them. He had boxes and boxes of leftovers in the fridge and cupboards, as they only went a little stale when not cooled.
Po wasn’t sure any of this made sense, but it worked. And if it sounded stupid, but it worked, then it wasn’t stupid.
As he sat down to eat, the Nunch Box members put on enchanted diving suits that generated air bubbles around their heads, and they dove through the glowing blue portal into an undersea Otherworld, finding themselves surrounded by towering coral reefs and fields of seaweed.
With resources running thin due to the war, demons from the warrior classes—Pride, Sloth, and Wrath—were employed to venture out to distant planets and alternate dimensions in search of food, materials, and enchanted artifacts to aid the war effort and improve life in the Queendom.
Nunch Ucks, charismatic showman that he was, had the brilliant idea to commission a custom camera that could broadcast through the portals and livestream his adventures for all to see through the magic of the recently salvaged technology, the ‘internet’.
They weren’t the only Otherworld streamers, but they remained Po’s favorite over the last few years since he’d been introduced to the show.
Unfortunately, Po had work. He’d have to watch the VOD later that night.
Breakfast and/or lunch finished, he set his plate, fork, and glass in the sink and got dressed, starting with his cock cage. His body tried to expel eggs every twenty minutes when new ones formed. The little metal cage with a plug at the end stopped the eggs from fitting into his dick and stoppered the flow of milk. Without it, he’d involuntarily egg himself in public. He just couldn’t wear it overnight, because the massive buildup over eight hours, give or take, would make him too heavy to move, and too horny to function as he came eggs for hours until he shrunk back to his usual ‘pregnant with triplets’ size. And that’s if he didn’t just burst whatever plug he’d put in after five hours.
After that, he pulled on his boxers and gray sweatpants, which were practically sheet-sized. Then his bra with pads to absorb the milk he leaked all day, an oversized lavender plaid button-up shirt that didn’t fully cover his belly, but it was the best he could do, and finally his black slip-in shoes. Po couldn’t bend down to put on socks or tie laces.
He reluctantly shut off his laptop and plugged it in to charge before waddling out the door and locking up behind himself. His belly swayed and sloshed in front of him as he huffed and puffed his way two blocks down to Demonson’s Grocers and clocked in.
Work was the same as always—strenuous and boring, but Po reminded himself it paid his bills. His back ached, his belly strained, and his cock twitched in its cage as he carted heavy boxes around the back storage room.
Every hour, he took a break. He’d had to negotiate them with his boss because they were mandatory for his condition. If he let the eggs build up too much, he got painfully tight and struggled to stand, so he had a few minutes every hour to lock himself in the employee bathroom and gush eggs into the big cooler left there for him.
Four hours later, Po clocked out, packed the eggs and milk into some grocery bags and a water jug, and hauled them home.
Relieved to be back in his apartment, he threw off his clothes and cage and started his laptop back up to watch Conquest while he fried an army of sunny side up eggs for dinner.
“A kraken! It’s attacking!” a fish lady screamed, pointing to the giant tentacled monster wrecking the little seashell houses in the distance.
“On it!” Nunch and Thro said in unison as they drew a dagger and axe respectively and swam out to battle the beast.
Kat drew her katana, hissing over her shoulder at their General. “Quit rizzing up the mermaids and help us fight, you stupid fuck!”
Morn was off chilling by a brine pool with a dozen mermaids all over him, admiring his muscles. He scoffed. “Can’t you idiots handle anything without me for five minutes?”
Much as he grumbled, Morn did care. He got up, gently pushing the mermaids aside, and kicked off a sturdy rock, darting through the water to join the battle.
Thro telekinetically lifted a boulder and cracked it over the kraken’s head, stunning it. It didn’t drop Nunch, who was coiled in one tentacle and screaming. With a swift punch to that slimy limb, Morn freed him, and the host shapeshifted into a salmon and swam out of the beast’s reach.
It recovered, making a grab for him. Kat zipped in then, left eye glowing gold as she magically sensed its weak points, slashing the tentacle clean off. Now with an opportunity to attack, Morn unsheathed the oversized greatsword strapped to his back. The kraken tried to fight him, but a wave of dark mist—Morn’s magic—slammed down on it, halting its advance, and the azure giant sliced it in half like fresh seafood as Po cheered through a mouthful of eggs.
Some time later, the mermaids adorned the four Wrath warriors with seashell necklaces and all the heroic praise they could stand. Morn looked more than a little annoyed to be the center of attention, even though he stole the spotlight so easily every episode.
“Here, as promised,” an older mermaid said, offering him a shiny artifact.
Morn’s demeanor lightened as he took the golden chalice in hand, inspecting the intricate carvings of demons around the bowl and the deep red liquid inside.
A-…A Devil’s Chalice?!
“Yo!” Nunch cheered, vibrating with excitement. “YOOO! Let’s fucking go!”
“Th-this is really it, huh?” Morn asked. Hands trembling, he lifted the chalice to his lips and took a sip.
Thro bashed him over the head with a rock, making him spit the liquid. “Don’t fucking drink that without letting me check it first! We don’t know that it’s a Chalice! You could end up dead, or cursed, or, I don’t know…pregnant with twins or something!”
Morn wiped his mouth, glowering at her as Po gaped at the screen. It might not be a real Chalice?
“Of course it’s a Chalice,” Nunch said, gesturing to the thing. “Bowl on tall stick.”
Raking her fingers down her face, Thro sighed. “Not every literal chalice is a Devil’s Chalice. We’re not looking for any old bowl on a stick, we’re looking for a specific artifact. Yes, the first Chalices were actual chalices, but the gods are creative and have since branched out and made a variety of containers. Chalices, cups, mugs, pitchers, bags, boxes, jewelry, food, even some living creatures—it doesn’t matter. It’s specific magic we’re looking for.”
The brothers nodded as they got it.
“A Devil’s Chalice is a container that continuously refills with the Ascending power of heaven and hell.”
A continuously refilling container? Like Po’s belly?
Gods, what a stupid thought. Po felt dumb and arrogant for even having the idea. His big stupid sloshing belly, a vessel for the power of the gods? Ridiculous.
And yet, Po was the kind of person who, once he had an idea, couldn’t let it go until he followed up or someone talked him out of it.