Chapter 1: Desirae's Birthday, (Hennessy)
Summary:
Closing down the bakery with KyJuan, Hennessy doesn't use her brain, and instead thinks with her stomach--the dumbest part of her body. Unsurprisingly, the results are catastrophic and leave her digestive system a quaking wreck. But hey, maybe it wasn't so bad.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Food service was all Hennessy Marquillo had ever worked in. During middle school she worked with her grandfather in his food truck in the city, high school she worked at Qdoba, and then at Moe’s. And now, in college, she spent the last three years as part of FDR Millenium Hospitality and Catering as a part time server. During the times the dining hall was open, she could be seen refilling napkin dispensers, spooning out meatloaf onto plates she would later wash, or at night, like tonight, working the bakery kiosk. At least KyJuan was on this shift to keep her company. He was leaning back against the counter, staring at the far away ceiling tiles and chewing on his lip.
“Ky.”
“Mm.”
“There’s a customer.”
KyJuan sighed and stood up, cracking his neck and turning around to greet the meandering, dark haired student who was coming around the dining hall far too late to be sober. Hennessy went back to pre-closing, putting away packaging and wiping down glass boxes. The food in the display boxes needed to be changed monthly, so as soon as Ky had rung up the guy for the last thing they hadn’t sold that day, a birthday cake with someone’s name already on it that had never got picked up, she started taking old cupcakes out of clear cases.
“We’ve sold everything, my lady, we can finally close.” Ky said, tossing the rejected receipt and pulling out the cash drawer. “Are you working breakfast tomorrow?”
Hennessy stacked cupcakes in a cardboard box to throw them out. “I’m not bussing during breakfast again until December.”
“Lucky you.” He muttered, pulling a display eclair out of its glass house and tossing it into her box with a thud. “You ever think about how gross it is to let food sit out for a month? These things are like rocks.” He banged a croissant on the counter to prove his point.
Hennessy shrugged. “It’s just sugar and flour. And they look fine, it’s the consistency that’s off.”
“Yeah, just the consistency. A tad firm, perhaps it was not a light enough dough.” He joked, throwing a handful of donut holes into the box like golf balls. When the display was cleared and the bakery was empty of baked goods, Hennessy carried the box outside, hefting it onto her hip to shove open the doors to the parking lot dumpsters.
Cold October air slid over the parking lot and touched her like a good massage, flushing out all the tension of standing for hours. She breathed it in in gallons and smiled, taking a much needed break to sit on the curb and look at stars. It was easy to forget how nice the world itself was while standing inside a dining hall and counting coins from tired, penniless students all day, but this reminded her that she was in a good place. She was chasing her dreams of being a zoologist and selling cupcakes. She looked at the box of baked goods quizzically. They really did look normal. It didn’t speak very well of the quality that they lasted a month without undergoing any major visual changes, but the pink and yellow icing with sprinkles still delicately stuck to the swirl on a vanilla cupcake was always going to be irresistible.
She sank her teeth in one. Or, she attempted to, it was hard as rocks. For some reason though, that didn’t stop her; the visuals of a good cupcake were overpowering the knowledge that it wasn’t supposed to break like a hardtack biscuit. She chewed and swallowed one bite, finding that the sugar still tasted sweet, but beyond that and dust, there wasn’t much flavor. A lack of other flavoring was good, right? That meant it wasn’t rotten or anything, she assumed, biting into another one. It was like eating sugar, which, granted, wasn’t great for you, but couldn’t be too bad.
She finished that cupcake and picked up an eclair, biting into it, chewing on the crumbly bread and mushing her way through the filling, which was disconcertingly still liquidy, picking up another one before she gave herself a minute to think about it.
Her stomach grumbled a bit, and she picked up a cookie, snapping it in her teeth like a thick potato chip and struggling to chew it up enough to swallow it down. She tore through a croissant that bit more like beef jerky and devoured three of them in rapid succession, finding the lack of flavor comforting, but the odd sensation in her waist slightly off-putting. She rubbed her stomach inside her skinny jeans and felt a bit of stabbing pain as the very hard food stacked up in her. She went back to the cupcakes after swallowing down the last dusty eclair from the bottom of the box, noticing that her belly was getting uncomfortably full.
Cupcakes kept finding their way into hands, and her hand kept finding its way to her mouth, until she lost track of how many she was eating, and simply filled her belly until she was so full and bloated she couldn’t swallow. Her stomach pressed over the waistband of her jeans with throbbing pain and a sharp line constricted her enlarged tummy. It gurgled sickly and a hint of gas escaped her.
Hennessy palmed her lower stomach. “Oh,” she mumbled, feeling her full guts squirm. “I can’t eat any more.” She put down the cupcake and leaned back onto the sidewalk, stretching her legs off of the curb, letting the distention of her stomach rise up to the sky. “My belly feels…” How did it feel? “I can feel my belly moving with my hands. That’s bad.” She rubbed it and burped. “I think I shouldn’t have eaten those.” She could feel some churning and some burbling deep inside her guts and groaned a little. She had to get back inside and finish closing.
She sat up and threw out the remainder of the cupcakes, feeling her belly twist just looking at them, and undoing the button on her jeans subtly, trying to give her roiling stomach some space to fix the damage.
“Ough--” She doubled over as she opened the back door. “I don’t feel good.” Her intestines squelched with pain. She pulled her shirt down over the roiling bloat and went pack to work, burping subtly and trying to work quickly, the pain in her guts increasing with every passing moment. Unable to keep going, she put her hand to her belly. It was swollen, something was getting bigger in there, and she knew she didn’t have time to find out what it was.
“Hey Ky?” She turned, and he stopped spraying the inside of the empty display case glass with windex.
“Yeah?”
“Can I go home early today? I know we’re not done, but--” she stifled a hiccup. “Can I let you finish up here?”
KyJuan put down his rag. “I guess so, there’s not too much left to do. But why do you want to leave early?”
“I-- this is gonna sound crazy, but I had a moment of insanity and I ate those cupcakes, and now my gut is making me feel things I didn’t even know it had the capacity to do.”
KyJuan’s eyes went wide. “Why did you eat those? They’re like a month old, display only.”
“Yes I know, KyJuan, that’s why I said it was crazy; and I don’t know why I ate them, they just looked good, like normal cupcakes.”
“But surely when you bit into the first one you would’ve realized they were hard and dusty, right?”
“Yes.” She cringed as her belly roiled.
“And you kept going?”
“I did say it was a moment of insanity.” KyJuan nodded slowly, looking her up and down as she began to sweat. He stepped aside and let her pass, dropping her gloves into the trash can and rushing out of the building. The cool night air washed over her and helped calm her sweat glands, but her stomach ache was worsening quickly. She held her bloated belly as she rushed back to her dorm, queasily burping and rubbing the distended bubble, wondering what the rest of her evening would be like, how her body would choose to handle this challenge she’d given it. Her tummy’s current plan of: ache and make Hennessy swear she would never eat display cupcakes again, was successful; she would never put herself through this again, that was for sure. She swiped her card on her building and pulled open the door, engaging her core muscles for a split second.
Everything changed inside her. The pain doubled, her squelching guts moved, and her bloated pelvis hardened with firming contents. She grabbed her stomach and ran through the lobby, swiping her card and pressing the elevator button, dancing from foot to foot. The elevator beeped unbothered as she tried to keep her insides calm before she could get to her room. Her belly churned and gurgled, impatient to get this out of here. It was pulling rotten cupcakes down her intestines like putty, and her tight skinny jeans were worse than uncomfortable for her level sickness. She ran into the elevator and rode it up to her floor, cupping her distended pelvis and rubbing it carefully. The elevator stopped to let someone else on. They nodded to her and stood in the opposite corner, tucking their mask up. Her stomach ached. She closed her eyes and rubbed the sides, palming the filling portion and trying not to groan. She had to do something, the elevator was stopping again to let the person off. At a loss for other options, she farted. Her stomach gurgled angrily, and the person looked over.
“You good?”
“I don’t think so.” She replied, watching them get off, still looking at her dancing as the doors closed and they travelled to her floor. Once there, she waddled down the hall, hard undergut aching incredibly as she swiped her card and pushed into her dorm, running for her bathroom. She ripped off her jeans and slammed the door, glancing at the mirror. She was so swollen, like she was carrying a baby low. Her insides squirmed with impatience and she doubled over. It made no sense to shit herself this close to a toilet, she shoved her ass on the seat and squeezed her belly muscles hard.
“Ungh!”
Diarrhea was her stomach’s solution, apparently, and she sweat with pain and effort, pulling off her shirt and folding over, hugging her waist. Don’t eat rotten cupcakes, got it. Her bloated guts roiled sickly and she put a sweaty hand to her sweaty stomach and felt it twisting painfully.
“My st-stupid belly,” She moaned. “Ugh, this hurts.” Her guts squeezed and she jerked. “Ohhh…” This night was going to be hell. By the time she heaved off the toilet, legs asleep, and got in the shower hugging her sick stomach, she was exhausted. Light headed and woozy, she staggered out and into bed, and slept instantly.
When she woke in the morning, she felt like she’d been wrung out. A bowl of chex mix replenished the lost calories as watched an online lecture absentmindedly. Suddenly, she squirmed. She felt funny from head to toe, hot and cold, both sick to her empty stomach and full. She leaned over and hugged her squirming guts, trying to focus on the lecture. Nope, belly hurt too bad. She went back to her bathroom and sat down on the toilet, panting, holding her stomach.
She expelled the chex mix and groaned, feeling the angry rumbling in her lower abdomen. How long would this last? A PB&J ran through her like acid, and left her in the bathroom completely naked, folded in half, moaning. A bowl of ramen came up and not down, keeling her over at her desk, heaving up out of her stomach and denying her any nutrients. She laid down on her back and stared at the ceiling, running her hands over her belly, feeling bubbles and churns beneath her fingers. She just couldn’t eat any breakfast, then. That was that. There was a knock on the door.
“Fuck off.” She called. She had enough to deal with already.
“It’s Ky?” Came the voice. She was about to double down on the fuck off, but remembered Ky had a way of knowing things that most people didn’t, and conceded that he might know how to fix this. She wasn’t getting up though. Another one of the odd things Ky knew was lock picking, so she laid on her back until he picked her lock and came in. He was understandably surprised to see her in her underwear sipping a Capri Sun. He asked what was up.
“You ever ate something that fucked you up so bad you couldn’t eat for twelve hours after it?” She answered, belly bubbling again, interrupting the Capri Sun intake for a moment. Ky looked at her stomach.
“Yes. Is this about the cupcakes? Because--”
She felt her intestines burble and interrupted him. “Yes, this is about the cupcakes. I almost shit myself after I ate a PB&J.”
He touched her stomach and took her juice, furrowing his brow concernedly as her insides decided that was the right time to start twisting around each other within her lower belly. She cringed and took a shaky breath, desperately enjoying the feeling of his warm hand cupping her bloated guts, but he took it off and started giving her instructions.
“Eat stuff like yogurt, pickles, dark chocolate,” He pulled her into a sitting position, upsetting her loins. “And cheeses. They have good bacteria. You might feel a little sicker for a while, the bad bacteria and the good bacteria are gonna have a little fight in your colon. To help out the good stuff, drink water and try your best not to shit for a while. Once it’s all done you’ll be able to flush your system, and it’ll be clear you’re done when you’re done.” Hennessy’s stomach expanded briefly and she burped.
“How long will it take?”
“Depends on how much display-only cupcake you let get inside your guts.” She frowned. She'd let quite a bit of display-only cupcakes get inside her, and eclairs, and cookies, and croissants. Maybe it wasn’t so far fetched that she had tummy troubles today. Even that much in-date sweets would make you sick. KyJuan gave her some chocolate and left, and she laid back down. She didn’t want chocolate, not upon penalty of death. She’d rather eat glass. Her intestines twisted and squirmed, begging for intake, but reeling with sickness. She was so hungry. What did he say to eat? Yogurt?
She pulled herself to her feet and opened her minifridge, taking out an activia and ripping off the cap, swallowing the portion she licked off the lid quickly. She wanted to be done with this. Her belly squirmed, upset to be taking in something sweet, but she mastered it and stuck a spoon in the yogurt, starting to eat it.
Her belly roiled with protest. She hunched over and grabbed it, bracing herself against an attack of loud digestive gurgling and swallowing another spoonful of yogurt. She felt indigestion travel up her midsection and come out as a burp, sickly sweet with strawberry activia. This was the worst. She took out another activia and broke the seal, licking off the lid and sticking her spoon in. Whatever she had to do to end this, she’d make sure to do. She trusted Ky, but her trust faltered as her tummy erupted with bubbles and made her pass long gas.
She finished that activia and opened her fridge for more probiotics. She had a jar of pickles for sandwiches she opened and drank the juice out of. That was an old one, her grandpa had taught her the pickle juice method of killing stomach aches a long time ago. It sloshed into her rumbling bloat and she chugged the jar, slamming it down with a hard belch when she was finished. Her belly jiggled as she forced the last of the air out with a groan. It wasn’t feeling better.
She took out a bag of shredded cheese and poured some into her mouth, staring out into her dorm with mild disbelief. She was just standing in front of her open refrigerator door eating miscellaneous detritus, hoping it would negate the fact that she ate a pound of out of date deserts. Her stomach filled with cheese, which didn’t get along well with the pickle juice, and she winced, hugged her stomach, and put away the cheese, slamming her fridge closed and lumbering to her bed.
“Ohhh.” She held her stomach and massaged the full bloat, regretting eating so much food. He didn’t instruct her to eat everything all at once. “I’m such an idiot.” Her stomach agreed with a rumble and she curled on her side. Good thing she wasn’t working breakfast this month. If she’d had to go to the dining hall it would have been impossible. Her stomach hurt worse than she could remember it hurting since elementary school. She remembered how tummy bugs would go around then, and wished she could get it over with as quickly as a little puke.
It burbled aggressively, pushing activia down into her colon but facing resistance. She groaned and rubbed her puffed out intestines, closing her eyes tightly as that “little fight” Ky was talking about started. She ran her fingers up and down her clenching abdomen and twitched with quiet sobs. It would’ve been bad enough, but she really did eat too much. She looked down at her bloated paunch and sighed, rubbing back and forth across it quickly. There was a knock at the door.
“Not now!” She shouted, rolling onto her back and feeling her tummy gurgling freely in the air. The knock repeated itself.
“It’s Visanya Awad, your RA. Can I come in?”
She bolted up in bed. “One second!” She scrambled for her dresser, pulling on a loose t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants quickly, as her RA called back through the door.
“The lock is off, I can just open it; you don’t have to get up.” The door creaked open just as Hennessy tucked the elastic band of her fuzzy pajama pants under her belly, after reconsidering the reaction in her colon to being restricted. She nervously tossed her hair behind her and stood in the middle of her messy floor, staring at Visanya, who pushed open the door slowly and looked around.
“Hey, how are you doing?” Came the preemptive question.
“F-fine.” Hennessy replied, belly roiling softly. “Why, did someone say I’m not?”
Visanya walked in and looked around, glancing at Hennessy’s bathroom and wardrobe. “No, I just came to check on you because someone said they saw a guy picking your lock earlier this morning. I see that it’s disengaged now. Did you know that someone broke into your room without permission?”
“Oh!” Hennessy cried, laughing tensely. “That was my friend KyJuan. I gave him permission.”
Visanya raised an eyebrow. “You gave him permission to pick the lock on school property housing?”
“Oh.” Hennessy glanced at the door. “Okay, I guess I can’t really do that.”
“Right,” Visanya said, perching on Hennessy’s bed as she took a step back nervously. The “little fight” was becoming not so little. “So that’s one problem, but also, why are you giving people permission to break into your room? Are you worried about something happening?”
“No,” Hennessy heard a gurgle come from under her t-shirt, and Visanya finally glanced at her stomach’s bloat. “I just didn’t feel like getting up.”
“Are you sick or something?” Visanya asked, as Hennessy shifted her clothing and nervously played with her hair.
“A little, yeah.” Her stomach rumbled angrily and she crossed her legs with discomfort. Visanya had to get out of here. At least her presence was keeping Hennessy from running to the bathroom, which KyJuan said not to do until it was over, to help the good stuff win. But boy, did it feel like it was losing. “Can I get you some water?” Hennessy asked tensely, already walking to her fridge. She handed a bottle to Visanya and took one for herself, opening the cap and chugging it down immediately, as the RA sipped and watched her.
She felt her belly filling up again, and then took a moment to breathe, the cold sensation sinking through to her guts. She cupped her stomach and winced. “Ooh.” Visanya’s eyebrows went up and Hennessy quickly put her hand at her side. “So, uh, yeah. I’m-- ough --fine. I won’t let KyJuan pick my lock again, sorry about that.” She laughed tersely and started to move towards her door, insides squelching loudly with every step as her stomach started telling her to get in the bathroom sooner rather than later. “Thanks for checking in.” Her belly groaned. “See ya.” Visanya stood up slowly, tucking her mask over her nose and putting the water in her hoodie pocket, eyeing Hennessy intensely as she left the room. “Thanks again!” Hennessy called, shutting the door quickly.
“Don’t forget to trigger your lock again.” Visanya said, still sizing Hennessy up.
“Yup, thanks!” She replied, turning the manual lock with a shaking hand as her belly let grip a thunderous rumble. Finally free, she shut the door, hearing the lock click into the socket as she ran to her bathroom. Her belly surged and she pulled off her clothes, throwing the lid of the toilet up with a clang.
The good bacteria won, and both it and the bad bacteria came running out in a matter of forty five minutes. KyJuan was right though, when it was over, it was clearly over. She felt fine; tired, empty as a plastic bag, but right as rain. She stepped into her shower happily, and then returned to her room, hungry as all hell. Maybe she could eat that chocolate he gave her.
Notes:
I know it seems like the title doesn't make sense, but it's a callback to chapter one of 'Li Jie Chan', the previous work in the series.
Chapter 2: KyJuan's Morning, (KyJuan)
Summary:
What should be a very simple weekday morning for KyJuan is interrupted several times by people's demands for his services. It seems like no one at FDR Millenium can control their appetite today, but hey, maybe that's not so bad.
Chapter Text
If you were to be walking down a grocery store aisle and hear someone burp behind you, you might think to yourself “Well, that person isn’t very polite.” If you were to hear them burp again, you might look back reproofingly. If upon looking back you see that their stomach is of a size such that they’re having trouble walking and look bilious, well, you might retract the harsh judgement. KyJuan did that, seeing the guy behind him in the Walmart with his cargo shorts unbuttoned and his t-shirt stretched, showing off a bit of his painfully swollen and perfectly rounded underbelly. The guy held his gut and waddled down the aisle, leaning back and intermittently burping. It was seven am, how on earth did a body end up like this so early in the day? Ever too forward, KyJuan stopped walking.
“Looking for anything?”
They glanced at him coldly. “You work here?” Was the gruff response. KyJuan shrugged, watching them turn into the remedy aisle and start looking at digestive aids.
“Can’t help but notice when someone’s in need. You look like you, maybe, indulged yourself a little bit last night?” The person huffed and took an herbal tea off the shelf, reading the instructions while they hunched over a little and their perfectly round belly gurgled. KyJuan persisted. “I’m not saying this is bound to work for you, but I’ve heard of belly rubs and hot baths helping with things like that.” He stepped closer, and they took a few extra glances up at his face, probably trying to guess his true intentions. He was an open book, he let attraction speak clearly in his face. He winked and took a bottle of magnesium citrate tablets off the shelf, swapping them for the tea in the person’s hands. “Or these. But my option is usually a bit more fun.” The person’s stomach burbled loudly, and KyJuan looked at it. “May I?” He asked, drawing his eyes enticingly across theirs. They nodded. “Here, let’s see.” He put his hand to their tight underbelly and felt the warmth and digestive fighting inside their smoothed girth. He rubbed a circle, adding pressure on places that felt tense, and releasing pressure on places that were churning. The person couldn’t help closing their eyes and uncurling a bit as Ky worked his magic, pushing his soft hands into their hard stomach, releasing gas.
Embarrassed, they opened their eyes and turned away, belly swiveling and hitting some price markers. Ky smiled and patted the dense side of them, the low thump thump of their girth delightful to him. They looked up at his open, welcoming expression and swallowed.
“I ain’t gay or nothin’.”
KyJuan shrugged. “There’s nothing specifically queer about helping your fellow man. Unless you make it that way.” He put a hand on their arm. “Just take your tablets and a good nap, you’ll be fine in no time.” They swallowed hard as he walked away, glancing back over his shoulder with a bright smile as they watched him go, holding the tablets, belly poking out. Ky took a candle and a bag of epsom salt and drove back to campus, taking the bags up with him in the elevator, cheerfully greeting the desk manager. He placed his keys on the hook by the door and kicked off his shoes once he was in his dorm.
“Jules? You still in here, dear?” The groan he heard from the bathroom put a smile on his face. “There you are darling, did you get in the bath already?”
He walked into the bathroom, where Jules lay in the tub, submerged except for the face and the top of her stuffed belly. KyJuan quickly ripped open the bag of epsom salt and poured it into the water, swirling it around with his hand, the fuchsia nails glittering in the ripples as Jules sighed with relief and shuffled down in the tub. Ky splashed some of the treated water over their tummy and rubbed his hand across it, feeling the soft, overfull stomach inside it rumble with pleasure at the hot water and gentle kneading. Jules burped.
“Thanks KyJuan. Sorry about this. I just ate so much I didn’t know what to do with myself at that party last night. When I finally made it here, I just had to ask you.”
“It’s quite alright, dear, I needed to be up at six anyway. Now you lay here and rub your stomach and feel better, yeah? I’ll light this candle. I trust you not to drown if you fall asleep.”
Jules nodded happily and splashed more warm water over their digesting stomach. Ky smiled and retrieved a matchbox, lighting the candle and placing it on the floor by the vent. Jules closed their eyes. What a pretty person; if they’d been a demiboy, he would’ve easily turned out a pleasant dorm room romance, but demigirls were outside his spectrum.
He’d been skeptical of Hennessy’s intestinal state last night, so he decided to pay her a morning visit. With a bottle of water and a box of chocolates, he knocked on the door.
“Fuck off.” She mumbled.
“It’s Ky?” He proposed, scratching his head. She wasn’t having a good morning, that was apparent.
“Pick the lock then. I’m not getting up.”
Picking the lock took a full ten minutes, and when he finally walked in, frustrated and huffy, he was ready to berate her. He stopped when he saw her in her underwear on her back on her dorm floor, sipping a juice box and holding her stomach.
“Hennessy? Are you drunk?”
“Sober as a ghost.”
“So what is this about, then?”
“This is about the cupcakes. I almost shit myself after a PB&J.”
“Well, yeah, that’s high in fiber. If you’ve got the runs, you want probiotics and water.” Hennessy’s belly gurgled. “Stop drinking that juice.” He took it out of her hand and threw it away. Hennessy just sighed and massaged her gurgling organs, burping a bit and closing her eyes. “How many people over-ate last night? This is the third belly treatment of the morning.” He knelt by her side and looked at her pale, flushed countenance. “Does it hurt a lot now? Or you simply want to eat but can’t.”
“Hurts.” She burped. “Churning like fresh butter.”
He placed his warm hand against her skin and felt the bubbles and gurgles of a thoroughly, thoroughly upset stomach. He patted her lightly and she wrinkled her face with annoyance.
“No rubs for you.” He said decidedly, cracking open the cap of his water bottle. “That would be disastrous.” He handed her the water bottle and she drank it listlessly. “Sit up.” She grabbed his arm and pulled herself into a sitting position, squelching stomach pouting as she did so. “Don’t put any pressure on your lower abdomen. If it bloats, it bloats.” He instructed her on how to treat the indigestion, and she nodded, cupping her stomach, looking less than hopeful. He shook his head, getting to his feet.
“I got you some chocolate, I’m sure some of it is dark. Good luck, I have a forensics lab.” He left her there with the chocolate and the water, holding her loudly burbling tummy and shifting around uncomfortably. What the hell was going on with the FDR Millenium area today? Everyone was having appetite trouble. He left the girls dorm and headed to his lab, held in the chemistry building and led by the life systems professor, since the original teacher was out with covid.
He slid into the first bench and took out his laptop, nodding and waving to the teacher he recognized from last year. She smiled back at him and waved. He’d failed the class, but she still liked him in a sort of unspoken, clearly gay solidarity. He’d almost been outed back at home in Reistville by his ex-best friend, and in the ensuing extended family fight, between being physically fought, depressed beyond belief, and terrified for his life, life systems homework had somehow made it to the back burner. Not so this semester, he was going to fake straight like a pro and ace this chemistry lab to earn a law firm internship.
Just as the professor stood and started to introduce today’s lesson, the door burst open and a student just barely scraped in on time. KyJuan inspected them; a tall, Asian boy with overly long hair and bad posture, wearing a hoodie and holding a very empty looking backpack--so not too prepared today. He didn’t know the guy’s name, just that he usually didn’t look this bad. Then he saw the reason. His gut was huge. He marveled at it as he took the seat next to him, the closest available vacancy, and turned to the teacher. Ky stared at the bulging stomach pushing against the hoodie, sitting quietly, but no doubt, twinging with stuffed pain. He wondered what the guy had eaten. An all you can eat buffet? A small feast? An entire cake or something?
The rest of class, Ky longed to rub that gut, so obedient and still it was, although the guy who was dealing with it looked a little more than uncomfortable as they walked to get their materials and stood to do their experiment. More than once he’d take a break and take some deep breaths, holding on to the table or gripping his stomach when he really couldn’t help it. There seemed to be a bit of the sugar shakes going on. Was he right? Could the guy really have eaten a whole cake?
Suddenly, his mind took him back to last night, closing with Hennessy after selling all their merchandise for the first time in a while. Some kid had come along and bought a full sheet cake someone never picked up, and they had dark hair, he could recall. Bad posture, air of dishevelment, it all matched. But could he really have eaten it all? That would be insane.
Ky cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, did you come by the bakery last night?”
The guy looked up, slightly confused and slightly annoyed that this wasn’t about chemistry. KyJuan just couldn’t help it. He had to know if this guy was sitting here with an entire sheet cake inside his belly. “Yeah, why?”
“Did you buy a cake?” KyJuan pressed, intrigued. The guy narrowed his eyes.
“Yeah.”
“What did you do with it?”
“Does this have anything to do with the class?” The guy shot back curtly. There was the answer. This kid had really eaten an entire sheet cake overnight. Ky instantly respected him, and resigned to stop talking about unrelated stuff, but all class imagined rubbing that poor, poor belly, full of cake and icing, bursting on the sides with cramps, he could tell. But it was unprofessional and undesired, so he let the class go by and that guy hobble out with his empty backpack and stuffed gut unmolested. Poor baby.
KyJuan went to his next class and thought to himself. He needed a boy-toy to stuff badly. He’d somehow had the best morning of the school year by pure coincidence. He touched his own cut abdomen. Why did people do it to themselves? Why did he like to watch it so much, but not do it? He certainly wouldn’t be able to keep his track and field scholarship if he did, so maybe it was for the best that he not understand his patients’ motivations. He had tried it once, overeating to point of sickness, but it was like hell on earth. His stomach had felt horrible for days, chock full of pudding, because that's what he'd had enough of to pig out on, and he still couldn't eat the stuff to this day. He shuddered recalling what that night was like, jiggling belly full of sweetness and dairy. No, he'd stay on this side of heaven, thank you very much.
He walked past a cute couple on this way to swap his textbooks out and get to civil procedure, another in-person class where he learned how lawsuits worked, not unimportant for the education of a forensic scientist. He'd find a husband when he was out of college and didn't need his mom to support him for groceries and insurance. Back in his dorm, he heard Jules struggling and groaning in the bathroom so he knocked on the door left her a cup of herbal tea on the floor outside before he made his way to the humanities quarter. He already had enough people to care for without a partner. He'd get over this loneliness when the pandemic was over.
Chapter 3: To and from the Max, (Maximus)
Summary:
Maximus's gluttony vice doesn't stop at over-eating. Li Jie's stream is a convenient means of seeing someone else suffer along with him, but he knows we wants more than that.
Notes:
Reverse perspective of chapter 2 of Li Jie Chan
Chapter Text
Max palmed his stomach. “Ohhh,” he groaned. “Shouldn’t’ve eaten that…” He hiccuped and rubbed his sides. “Better get comfortable.”
He lumbered off his sofa and locked his bedroom door, leaning against it for support as he pulled off his pants and stumbled back to the sofa, opening his laptop. The empty bowls of expired ramen teetered on the cushion as he sank back into them, holding his pained belly and sighing. Li Jie’s stream was starting, and that was the point of eating and sending him the spoiled ramen anyway. He opened twitch and logged on to the ten o’clock session affectionately titled “this isn’t happening.” by Li, ready to watch him eat the trash he’d sent.
There he was, in all his glory on Max’s laptop, picking up the first chopstick full of rancid noodles and swallowing it. Max expected him to at least gag, as he had, but the numb boy just wrinkled his nose and looked down at the bowl dreadingly. Max asked him how it was via the chat.
“Ramen goes bad.” Li mumbled, taking another bite. Max felt his cock rising as he watched the beginning of a pretty horrible night. He should know, he’d just eaten six bowls of the same stuff himself, and the jelly in his gut was quaking with aggressive gurgles. He laid his hand across the fat and rubbed it absentmindedly, his lime green nails looking so nice against the bulge beneath the white cotton of his t-shirt. He slid his hand down to his crotch and rubbed there as well. Li kept eating, looking lost in thought, and Max reached for the lube and slid his hands inside his boxers.
He put one hand to his gut and held it to feel the bubbling and squirming in his lower intestines as the indigestion started, but placed the other one around his dick. His belly groaned and he tipped his head back and started pumping, from tip to the base of the shaft, slippery bumps of his fingers against the pulsing skin of his member. Ohhh he hurt so good. Li was moving on.
“Hey Maximus,” Max cringed with lust at the sound of Li saying his name and gasped as he pumped faster, hunching over his stomach. “If you want me to get through this you better pay me. My stomach already feels weird.”
Oh god, yes. Talk more about your stomach. Max let go of his sick insides long enough to make a cashapp donation of the first amount he saw.
Li smiled and kept eating. Max squeezed his cock and tried to milk it, for fuck’s sake, he was so horny. Li saying his name had put him into a new dimension. His gut was jumping with strange contractions; he couldn’t tell if it was trying to squeeze the mess up or down, but it was not nearly as concerned with the direction as he was. It was just clenching with agony, and the tension it put across the diameter of his stomach, oh it was like heaven. It was pulled tight over the squishy load of ramen and couldn’t move it anywhere, as it had congealed into this one huge mass.
“Oh-h-h.” He moaned, shifting his ass forward on the couch to hunch over. He felt bilious, but it wasn’t keeping him from wailing on his penis like a shake weight. He’d seen Li’s bulge. At this point in the stream, he was pretty familiar with the dimensions of that monster, but though his own was moderately sized and lightly bell-ended, guys had told him it was the best cock they’d ever had, and Max believed it. He was a demon in the sheets, though most times, he admitted, they weren’t even in a bed.
He closed his eyes and thought about his last partner, a pretty boy named Alex from Orntow. Alex had had such nice eyes, and such a nice ass too. Just couldn’t hold his liquor, and ended up spewing in the club back room just as he came, and Max could just remember the sight of him clutching his belly and heaving over while his thighs seized up and he orgasmed. Fuck, that was a good night. He jerked his hand back and forth and breathed heavily, feeling sick enough to blow either load, but he was hoping the one between his legs would go first.
Li put down the bowl and palmed his stomach, panting and massaging the growing mass inside him, the pain of which Max knew very well. His guts were full of soured cheese and curdled noodles, all fighting for escape and forcing him to bubble his cheeks and let out a queasy, heavy burp. Li did the same and Max cried out in desperation. He put his hand on the arm of the chair while his tummy jerked up and down in his insides, shaking spoiled udon up his throat.
“Ugh--” He grunted, squeezing his boner with his fist, trying to eek out the jizz that was refusing to escape. He periodically had this problem. Dying to come, cock full of fluid and pulsating, but he couldn’t deliver unless he found a way to escalate. Sometimes touching his balls worked, sometimes chugging milk just to mess up his insides and hear them protest, but today he just wanted to bust.
He perked up to the sound of Li Jie Chan groaning, and turned back to his laptop, breathless but smug as Li ‘decided to quit’. He placed no weight on the resolution, Li could be convinced to do nearly anything with money or attention, poor kid. Chat was already telling him to continue because it would be worth it for that sweet sweet climax, but Li really looked like he wanted to end it. Max whimpered and caressed his swollen stomach, hoping. The other boy sat forward to turn his computer off, but Max recognized the look on his face. His stomach was discovering the extent of the damage. Halfway through eating spoiled ramen as your digestive system is going through the over intake of food, it will realize the issue. It’s not just too much, it’s wrong . This is all wrong and it needs to get out of here. Max had almost tossed it up then too. He watched Li sprint for his trash can, but fall down. The way his belly jiggled with illness as he slammed his knees to the floor and covered his mouth… Max’s dick surged and he gripped it tightly, vigorously trying to discharge the semen inflated shaft.
Li’s belly threw a fit on camera, and Max moaned as his own nausea escalated to real gagging, matching that of Li’s, who also reached for his cock. Good boy, he knew what an opportunity this was. Max could barely keep the sick down as he ratcheted his hand over his pulsing penis, squeezing out precome. There was so much of it he may as well have burst, but it was still thin and clear and his prick was still raging.
“Uh, uh, uh,” He panted, leaning against the cushions and pushing his ass cheeks together to maybe force out an orgasm that way. “Oh god, please.” He moaned, listening to Li’s constrained retches as the ramen in him forced his hips apart to relieve some kind of pressure on his intestines. Holy hell, it felt like they were squeezing wet sand through him.
“Auuhhh.” He gripped his stomach and squeezed it in his hand. He almost made a huge mistake, but let go before anything could escape him, inching his mind closer to coming with the taste for pain. Li groaned loudly as he hugged a trash can and Max looked up. There was something going on. Li’s stomach was quickly getting bigger. Max watched with morbid fascination as his own gut started to expand. What the hell was happening to them? He shucked his penis with force and watched his guts enlarge with deep gurgling. His cock wept with pleasure as his own digestive noise competed with Li Jie’s and both boys closed their eyes, leaned forward, and vomited.
“No! --AUGH!”
Max ejaculated across his floor and heaved his guts out. His dick sprayed come as his guts reproduced rancid ramen and he rolled his eyes back with bliss. Li Jie was still puking when he sat back and felt the aftershock run all through him to the pleasant echoes of barfing and he placed a hand across his lower stomach.
He told Li to finish his food in money and words. It was inconsiderate and selfish, since he knew it was really the udon that put the final stick of dynamite inside your guts, but he wanted it. Even if the aftermath came when he would never see it, he wanted to know that somewhere on campus, Li Jie was rolling around with a bellyache like passing a kidney stone.
Once he paid him, of course Li ate it. All the while, Max cradled his queasy stomach and stroked his tired cock while it recovered. He had a lot more spoiled food where that came from and a whole night to himself. As the stream ended, he got up and opened a cardboard shoe box. He was a bit of a hoarder, and Halloween had become lame about eight years ago, when he first got to high school. He had trick or treated every year before then, and not even Max could put away all the candy his mom’s excellent hand made costumes earned him. He stared down at the collection of chocolates. A few wouldn’t hurt. But they always did, of course.
Chapter 4: Life Tastes Good, November 23 '21
Summary:
Max and Hennessy meet under non-ideal circumstances, but luckily, she's experienced with food poisoning and is able to save the man and the party.
Notes:
Now that we've met everyone, they'll meet each other, so this chapter and the one after have slightly plot-y beginnings.
Chapter Text
“Well this is excessive.” KyJuan muttered as he entered what was once a conference hall, and was now an elegant ballroom, hand in hand with Hennessy.
“The Provost only turns 67 once, right?” She replied, sarcastic.
“I damn well hope so. If he does this again, he’ll wipe out the treasury.”
The giant oak conference tables had been dismantled and removed, now the mahogany floors gleamed, the embossed wallpaper was glowing in the light of three fully lit chandeliers 20 feet above their heads, and huge golden drapes covered ten foot windows and the nighttime view of the Senatorial housing. The truly expansive dimensions of the room were emphasized by plumes and plumes of expensive fabric twirling and waltzing on an improvised dance floor.
KyJuan led Hennessy by the hand as he hung a left and walked along the edge of the room behind a few antique couches and low tables arrayed with crystal goblets and champagne glasses to where a curtain fell in front of a small alcove. He lifted one side of the curtain, ushered her in, and let it fall behind them and muffle voices, china clinks, and the clattering of kitten heels on polished wood floors.
In this particular alcove was a little red chaise longue, and a long table covered in full champagne glasses, the empty ones being tucked in crates underneath, and crates and crates of unopened bottles against a wall. He sat down, adjusted his suit jacket, and watched her fix her hair in the mirror screwed into the wall over a table of hairspray and brushes. Servers were required to look their best at all times, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in either of their suits. She turned back and nodded to him. He stood, they both picked up a tray of champagne from the table, and stepped out into the ballroom.
The energy of the party washed over them, both their eyes adjusting to the brilliant light that engulfed that of the little lamp lit alcove. Others in black and white suits weaved through the crowds carrying silvery trays over their heads weighed down by dishes and goblets of wine and tiny mugs of seltzers. Crowds of elaborately dressed guests reclined on couches, already drunk. Young people and good dancers congregated in the center of the room, flirting like birds to the music, while the older and less rhythmically inclined stood about looking haughty and superior. He found Provost Cruz standing with a group of the latter, eating some kind of bread and topping while evidently making excellently funny small talk. The Provost caught sight of the champagne tray and immediately excused himself, finishing the hors d'oeuvre and quickly approaching the pair. Hennessy saw him and smiled back, KyJuan muttered an excuse and slunk away for other champagne desirous school officials in unconcealed avoidance.
The Provost had always struck him as uptight and disingenuous, every interaction they’d had from employee to employer KyJuan would have rather spent getting teeth pulled. He’d let Hennessy manage the Provost’s disposition and spare himself the annoyance.
He wandered past tables and couches that glanced up at him or didn’t, and eyes that wandered over his, while he assessed theirs back. At times, someone would put their hand out and he’d put a champagne glass in it, or someone would stack an empty glass in his hand as he passed them by. The number of full cups was dwindling as he made his way around the room silently, avoiding other servers and trying not to look bored and annoyed, though he felt it. He met up with Hennessy again.
“Hey, fuck this party, sis. Let’s just go back home and watch a movie, it’s not like Ms. Johanna’d know, you know?”
Hennessy laughed and passed out champagnes to a chattering couch group of women, while KyJuan passed out glasses to the sofa group next to it, pleading with his eyes by the light of the chandelier lamp between them.
“No,” Hennessy replied as they made their way back together. “It’s the Provost’s birthday and he already doesn’t like you. No need to exacerbate it.”
“It’ll exacerbate itself. I bet seeing me here makes him angrier than if I’d just not shown up at all. Every time he sees my face he reminds himself that he hates me. Leaving will do both of us a favor.”
“Fine. Go.” Waved Hennessy, taking out a small mirror and sitting down on a low bench at the edge of the room to fix her appearance. KyJuan rubbed the glitter highlight on his nose and popped his lips together to blur the lip gloss.
“Come with me.”
“I can’t. I’m giving the champagne to the toaster.”
“Ugh, I forgot about that damn toast.”
“I can tell. I thought you were going to run off and leave me stuck with the Provost forever.”
KyJuan smiled and put his elbow on the arm of the chair, propping his chin on his hand and inspecting her profile as she meticulously repaired her makeup. “I did, mentally.”
“Don’t, if you want to stay friends.” She replied coolly.
“Fine. Also, the strangest thing happened while I was wandering. I saw two cooks come out of the kitchen and start picking through the food, inspecting those gross snail-oyster things with this look on their faces like they’d baked in a wedding ring. I asked about it, and they ran off.”
“Strange.” Was the disinterested reply as she handed out her last glass of champagne and they started walking back toward the alcove with all the replacements in it. She reloaded her tray inside the heavy red curtains as the light and music danced around behind them. With trays refilled, both felt resistant to the thought of going back into the party again.
They were just starting to raise champagne glasses to their mouths as the curtain parted, they both gasped, and someone stumbled in, throwing the curtain closed behind them and putting their hand to their chest, closing their eyes to catch their breath. The person stood there, hand to chest and eyes closed for several seconds, evidently not having perceived the forbidden bubbly stealing. Hennessy put the cup behind her back and shuffled behind KyJuan, as he placed his back on the table and hid her, stepping deeper into the offbeams of a weak lamp.
The young person’s brown hair fell over their face as they finally relaxed, and KyJuan was about to step up and make a smart remark about them all escaping a senate gathering in the champagne alcove, when they put his hand to their tailored waist and groaned, doubling over in front of the alcove curtain, but not before KyJuan caught sight of an official cabinet member’s pin on their lapel. It only made sense that they were looking at the Provost’s son. He and Hennessy froze, unsure of what was the next step. The guy was clearly in a vulnerable state, but approaching the Vice Provost while his head was at his waist seemed… not right. They waited a few seconds until he stood up again, adjusting his suit jacket, but he was then crippled by another wave of nausea and put his hand on the wall, holding his midriff and gasping breathlessly.
As the Vice Provost took a seat in an armchair opposite and diagonal to theirs, the servers realized they were moments from discovery and both hemmed quietly. The Vice Provost’s head snapped up, eyes wide, but almost calmed seeing that it was two random staff. He didn’t seem happy to see them by any stretch, but as much as his dad and KyJuan butted heads, they were the least influential people he could have found himself with. He sat up straight and put one hand on the arm of the crenelated chair, while the other shamelessly palmed his stomach.
“I guess you’re wondering why they hell I’m here.” He said plainly, in a half-defeated tone. He winced as he crumpled the front of his shirt slightly and shifted in his seat. Hennessy shuffled forward and spoke in a soothing voice as she put her cup down and placed a hand on KyJuan’s shoulder to move him.
“Are you alright, Vice Provost?”
There were a few seconds while he panted and widened his eyes for some pain that halted speech, but he resumed the conversation in a few blinks and released the crumpled fabric of his dress shirt. “Honestly, Miss? No. No, I’m not.” He pushed his fingers into the flesh of his abdomen and jerked when he hit some critical depth, raising one knee and gently lowering it.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Hennessy asked, and KyJuan placed a hand on her arm, but she ignored it.
“Leave him alone, Hennessy. He probably doesn’t want us here, and we don’t have anything helpful.” Hennessy continued to ignore him, her brow furrowing with concern for the grimacing Vice Provost, who leaned over and put his forehead in his hands, as it started to glisten with sweat. KyJuan knew something was up, and it was probably something bad, but getting involved in the business of the guy whose millionaire dad paid him minimum wage was not an option. In his opinion, if the Vice Provost could skip out on the Provost’s party in the alcove, he and Hennessy could skip out on the Provost’s party in his dorm watching ANTM season three reruns, less than a block away.
When the man declined to answer for long seconds, KyJuan gently grabbed Hennessy’s wrist and then laced his hand into her reluctant fingers. He started to evacuate the alcove for the hallway which led to others, the hesitating Hennessy in tow, when his heel paused and he couldn’t help but turn and listen.
The Vice Provost’s stomach let grip a horrifying gurgle, and the man jerked and shoved his hand into it, muttering desperately as he carefully balanced his head on his hand.
Hennessy detached herself from KyJuan who tried to keep hold of her, and approached the armchair, in which the Vice was bouncing his leg and taking deep breaths. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder, and it weakened, to KyJuan’s mild irritation.
“Hey,” Hennessy said softly, perching on the arm of the chair and looking over him carefully. “What’s your name?” The trembling man put the heels of his hands to his eyes and wiped away what KyJuan was shocked to see were real tears as he tried to calm his breathing enough to speak. This was not Ky’s problem at all, nor did he want it to be; time to go. He left the alcove.
-----Perspective Switch to Hennessy-----
“Maximus Atwood.” Was the stiff reply, as the man shoved his hand against his stomach. Hennessy rubbed his shoulder.
“Nice to meet you, Max, I’m Hennessy. What’s wrong?”
“My--” He started, then caved. “I don’t know,” he finally gasped, sitting back in the chair and rubbing his clammy palms down his pants, twitching with pain. He took one big, though shaky deep breath, and spoke more clearly. “It came out of nowhere. I was talking, and all of a sudden I felt this pain in my chest, and I thought it was heartburn, but then it moved to my stomach and it--” He twisted. “It took my breath away. I tried to keep talking, thinking it would go away with time but it only got worse. I can’t imagine what it’s from. Everyone else seems fine.” Hennessy recalled the incident with the two cooks, and slowly it was a clearer picture.
“It was those weird bread things with the oyster and snail.”
Maximus recoiled. “Oyster and snail sounds disgusting.”
“See that’s what I said, but apparently they look and taste like garlic bread.”
“That garlic bread was actually oyster and snail?” Maximus asked, incredulous.
“Yep. And I can’t let the Vice Provost hide during a celebration this size. We both have to go up for the toast. You can barely talk.” Max said nothing.
His temperature was high, his pupils were dilated, and he was salivating but definitely, definitely not hungry. It could be a number of things, but taking into account the information from KyJuan, Hennessy had a main hypothesis: dead oyster. Cooking and eating an oyster that was dead resulted in ingested ammonia. Ingested ammonia could kill you, but Maximus was not going to die. If the son of the school Provost was going to die, she would not have perched on the edge of his chair and stroked his hair softly like she was right now, and she would not have let KyJuan off on his dumb principles to soothe his pride.
Maximus’s pale, sweaty face raised, and he looked around blearily. Finding only Hennessy, he sat back, unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt and pulled back his dampening hair. His stomach gurgled sickly, and he tried to breathe steadily, but the pitch of his voice crept upwards as a new onslaught of nauseous contractions ricocheted through his gut. He clutched at the flesh and slackened muscles on his abdomen and squeezed them as his stomach burbled and burned with ammonia.
“Oh,” he moaned quietly, turning and curling up against the chair. “What’s wrong with me, Hennessy?”
“You ate dead shellfish, and now you have a version of food poisoning, is my hypothesis,” she quipped, squeezing his shoulder. “You’ll get through it.” Another round of grumbles tore through his esophagus down to his belly. “Eventually. I did.”
He rubbed it pitifully. Hearing the sounds of indigestion was nearly as nauseating as the ammonia itself; Hennessy even felt a little sick listening to the noises emanating from him. He turned back in his chair and poked out his stomach. Hennessy was surprised by slight roundness in his middle. She hadn’t noticed that before, and she had noticed everything about Maximus’s body, she was sure. Without thinking, she leaned down and placed her palm against it.
Ignoring the bubbling sensation beneath her skin, she noted drum tightness, it’s plump geometry, and a lack of give. A hypothesis for that: some kind of gas produced as a byproduct of the acid in his stomach and the ammonia he’d ingested. Poor guy. He had sat still while her cold little hand touched his stomach through the fabric of his shirt and pants, but as she sat up straight and returned her hand to her lap, the noise that erupted from him was repulsive, and he put one arm across himself and bent over, gritting his teeth and groaning a little.
He sat back slowly and pushed the belt of his pants below the intumescence of his belly, sighing with relief as the tension in the upper stomach dispersed to the lower, smoothing it out beneath his hands. He burped and rubbed it hard, pressing his hand into the firmness.
The echo knocked back down through his system and disturbed what calm was descending enough for a monstrous round of gurgles to run up and down inside him, as he hugged his belly and grimaced. Hennessy flinched back as a genuine sob shook his frame, and he palmed his stomach and panted desperately.
“My stomach, it’s imploding. I think I’m dying.”
She rubbed his back, somewhat at a loss. “You aren’t.”
He burped, and his pale face went green. “It’s getting worse.” He swallowed carefully and put a hand to his rioting gut, which was visibly flexing and sinking as it tried to wrestle the sickness some way through him. His gut was fighting with acid and churning, and a tear tracked down his cheek as his hands rode the kicking of his insides and his chest rose as if to belch, but instead he put the back of his hand to his mouth, shuddered, and curled up his fingers over his dress shirt. His stomach roared in protest and he belched finally, clutching it and twisting his hips with agony, as he had no relief from the onslaught of stabbing aches scattered within him.
He hunched over and squirmed, holding his stomach with horror as it burbled, distended more, and then lurched violently, shoving something up into his mouth, which he hastened to cover, his cheeks bubbling. She watched the sudden outward punch of his gut, but he managed with considerable retching and jerking to swallow, reclining to the sounds of bubbles and protestations. He rubbed the rounded bowels and moaned, wiping the tear’s trail away lazily.
Both he and his stomach audibly complained, and he gasped as it kicked and struggled visibly. He leaned fearfully in horror as a monstrous growl erupted deep within the pit of his gut and rolled outwards into his system in a series of burping and surging. Hennessy didn’t realize she was wet until his sweaty face tipped up, he arched his back, shoved his stomach away, and then groaned with increasing aggression until his stomach clenched and he had to keel over it. “Ugh, my stomach hurts, everything hurts!” He nearly yelled, and Hennessy quickly looked to the curtain, which to both their luck, didn’t open. While her attention was there, she did hear someone speak nearby. People were looking for Maximus. He needed to toast.
“Maximus, hon, there’s something you’re not going to like.” He didn’t reply, preferring instead to blow air out of his cheeks and bounce his leg. Hennessy placed a hand gently on his back and the Vice Provost shuddered. She cleared her throat and shifted, feeling the heat between her legs cause sweat between her upper thighs. “I hate to say this, but you’re going to have to get up and toast.”
“I can’t,” He gasped. “I can’t move.”
“You have to, unfortunately. They’re looking for you now.” Maximus coughed and moaned, and Hennessy knelt down beside him, slipping her hands to his shirt, and redoing his top buttons, smoothing down the fold silk toward his stomach, her fingertips gently brushing the pouted flesh before she took her hand to his hair, smoothed it, wiped his brow, and then put out a hand to help him to his feet.
He took it reluctantly, holding his stomach in with his right hand and hers with his left, as she raised him, pulled back up the waistband of his pants, and stood there, holding the leather belt, looking up into his eyes. The bleary, tear mixed pupils found hers, and in an instant, he knew what kind of look hers was. He stood straighter, returning to the tall, broad shouldered, stern gazed Vice Provost he had been known to be, and Hennessy pulled him by the waistband of his pants and kissed him.
It wasn’t like kissing a partner. It was a wrong, saturated, hot, and desirous kiss. Their mouths met, mixed with sweat, pain, and a longing that they both had thought to kill but couldn’t quite. It was an inevitable kiss in many ways, but she felt he was giving himself to her like he wanted her to stay. So she did stay, and she pulled him in ever stronger by the buckle of his belt, then felt him start to shake when the pain wanted to fold him, but he wanted to kiss her more. That was what she was going for. Now he could walk out there and not double over. She pulled away reluctantly, feeling his heartbreak, letting the saliva bridge the gap until it snapped, and they wiped their mouths and she put a hand on his arm.
“You can do this. It’ll be thirty seconds. Two minutes, tops.” She squeezed his forearm, finding it unsurprisingly strong and sinewed. It didn’t have KyJuan’s veins, but it had the refined architecture of a rich man who got his muscles from a gym and a trainer. He looked down at her, frightened, but the encouraging smile she gave him was cast in the light of three chandeliers, as someone had thrown the curtain back. They’d found him, and not a moment too late. It was already suspicious for them to be there alone together.
She took a moment to collect herself after the Vice Provost walked out of the alcove, head held high and a smile plastered on to defy an obviously sweaty face and trembling fingers. She’d just kissed Vice Provost Maximus, and ironically, she found herself fiddling with her purity ring as a stress reliever. KyJuan would have flipped. But it was a tactical kiss, a kiss to get him up and motivate him. Sometimes that was what it took to get a man to do what he had to. It sure as hell wasn’t the first time Hennessy had kissed a man to motivate him. Memories of exes sent her out of the curtain and into the blinding lights, where she met Maximus again on a stage, taking a glass of champagne she offered him from her tray and beaming. If it weren’t for the sheen of sweat visible under the brown hair, you would’ve thought him the usual model Vice Provost, if slightly disheveled. She stepped back into the wings to wait and watched him shake hands, smile, clap senators and advisors on the back, approaching the microphone ultimately, holding the champagne, and raising a hand to quiet the crowd of party guests.
“Friends, fellow office members, the senate, and esteemed guests, we are gathered here today after such a wild 18 month journey through sickness and quarantine,” his eyebrow twitched. “To celebrate the 67 years in the life of Sir Earnst Cruz-Atwood, Provost Primo, a great leader of FDR Millenium College and an even greater--” His brow furrowed a bit and he swallowed. “An even greater father. I look forward to--” A burp. A little rustle rose in the stage wings. “many more years with all of you, enjoying the incredible institution of scientific achievement and academic greatness my father has led to glory. Cheers.” And he knocked back the champagne and vacated the stage as applause, cheers, and toasts supplied ample noise. Hennessy listened in to a nearby conversation between two waiters.
“Does the Vice Provost seem off to you?”
“Hm, you could say so. He’s usually so perfect, I guess you would call this off.”
“He seems unsteady.”
Another waiter walked up. “He ate one of Emmie’s croutons de escargot, but the intern took some of the oysters for them from the discard bin.” The other two gasped. “Emmie realized too late and was only able to track down most of them. The Vice Provost got one.”
Amidst being proud of herself for being right, Hennessy was alarmed. She stepped back into the alcove curtain and put her hand to her chin as the thought. Now that she knew it really was ammonia doing this to him, she was sure there was no way he would last a night of celebration. She found him in the wings, keeled over, hands on his stomach.
“Hey, Max.” He looked over, alarmed, but seeing it was only her, sighed, relieved and stumbled to the wall. He leaned against the brick and turned his back to it, panting and holding his gut while sweat dripped down the side of his face. She blinked rapidly and quickly moved to his side, wondering if he might be worse off than she thought. He spoke shakily.
“I can take a stomach ache, but fuck. I’m really sick.”
Nervous, she put a hand to his chest, and found his heart was pounding. Alright, that might be cause for alarm. She was a zoologist, not really a human biologist, but she felt like the best thing for him that didn’t involve interrupting this nice party with a nice ambulance was probably just to get it out of him.
Snatching his tie in her hand, she yanked him back to the dressing rooms and he followed, teetering unsteadily and wheezing slightly. His distended stomach burbled, and he turned a shade of green, pressing his palm into his waist with a pitiful whine. His face said ‘help me’, but his mouth said “I can’t be in here.”
“You’re the Vice Provost,” she replied, locking the door and avoiding his eyes. “Who’s going to tell you what to do?”
“Don’t you care that they’ll tell you you can’t be in here either?”
“I’m Hennessy, nice to meet you.” Max snorted in spite of the further bloating of his guts and shook his head.
“Don’t blame me if you get fired.” He replied, slipping his hand inside his belt to massage his belly. Hennessy mumbled something under her breath and he looked over, but the girl put her hand on his shoulder and gestured for him to lean down.
“Put your hands on the counter.”
The backstage dressing room had a counter full of mirrors and lights with caddys for makeup and hair supplies that were empty at the moment. Max put his hands on the counter and took deep breaths. Hennessy rubbed his arm.
“Good job, Max.”
He looked up at her suddenly, intrigued by her change of tone. She smiled coyly and rubbed her hand down his bicep gently. He followed her with his eyes as she walked around behind him.
“Close your eyes.”
He did so with wordless compliance, and Hennessy subtly kicked a trash can under him before slipping her hands around his waist from behind. He really should have seen this coming, but one of Hennessy’s little magics was being so hot people forgot to be suspicious of them. Natural intuition seemed to leave people when they were staring at a pair of double ds, somehow. He shuddered with nausea and she hugged him soothingly, cooing and rubbing his stomach as she pressed her chest against the tense muscles of his back.
He groaned and hacked, but nothing came up, his stomach just kept roiling, and his body kept shaking and his skin kept sweating. She did the only thing that felt accessible. The next time she felt his insides shuffle and cringe, she pressed the thumb of her fist against the bubble of sickness inside him and wedged it there firmly, wrapping her other hand around it tightly in case he all of a sudden decided to get free. He retched again, stomach distending against her hand, and she set her jaw and shoved her fist against his abdomen.
His belly clenched and he gagged, but Hennessy pushed her fist up inside his stomach and he finally vomited. The relief made him so weak he fell to his knees, pulling in the trash can and pushing up clear fluid that reeked of acid. Hennessy turned to face the wall while he dragged up his guts and trembled with the serotonin of release.
Finally, with a last gasp, he pushed away the trash can, wiped his mouth and laid back on the floor. She turned and squatted down next to his form, looking as if he was asleep.
“Max.” She whispered. “How do you feel?” He said nothing. “Max--” He reached up and grabbed her, pulling her over top of him. She found her cheek against his stomach, hearing the squelching and gurgling of his digestive system. So he didn’t feel good then. “Sorry,” She whispered. “I just didn’t want all that poison to stay inside you.” She rubbed his midsection gently.
“Don’t worry about it. Thanks to you I might be able to survive this stupid birthday party.”
“I like this stupid birthday party, stupid Max.”
That made him lift his head off the floor and look at her with his eyebrow raised. “If I recall correctly, you were about to get drunk on the job when I came into that alcove.”
She sheepishly tucked her hair behind her ear. “You saw that, huh.” He snorted and laid his head back down. She sat up and swiped her hand under his hair to dry his brow. “But, getting lit is part of any good party.”
He smiled. “Ah, yes, but the presence of my dad is the instant antidote to any good party,”
“You don’t like the Provost?” She asked, slowly rubbing her hand over his bubbly stomach and watching his face affectionately.
“Do you like the Provost?”
“He’s my boss.”
“And so you can’t anything bad about him to me, but he’s my dad, so will say I fucking hate him.”
“Wow. Do you have any other family?”
“Mom, but she doesn’t really come to his birthdays anymore, if you catch my drift. She’s the big white lady in the painting of my family in the foyer.”
Hennessy watched him cringe a little bit of his tummy tightened with residual aggression. She massaged it and he smiled a little in spite of himself. She delighted herself in unkinking the muscles clenched under her fingers.
“Ah, Ms. Atwood. She and Earnest Cruz are still married though, aren’t they?”
“No, but it was half her that took the school to affluence, so he kept the name tacked on.”
“Hablas español?”
Max furrowed his brow and forced himself to burp, rubbing rapid circles around his navel. “Si, pero solo un poco.”
“¿Te enseñó tu padre? ¿Es de México, no?” Did your father teach you? He’s from Mexico, right?
Max shook his head. “Como si. De hecho, era mi niñera. Mi padre no habla español a menos que no pueda evitarlo.” As if. It was actually my nanny. My father avoids speaking spanish if he can.
“Ah, tenías una niñera. ¿Fue buena contigo?” Ah, you had a nanny. Was she good to you?
He grunted a little and shifted on the floor. She took to stroking his lower stomach above his belt softly, her fingertips fluttering against his cool, puffed skin, making him ever so slightly harder. “Yes, very.” He pushed his hand into his stomach and whined, sitting up finally and looking right into her eyes, a few inches from her face. She smiled and patted his leg as she turned away.
“I’m not gonna kiss you again, puke mouth.” She stood.
“Hey, this mouth tastes like me staying alive.”
“Mm, pues, la vida es notoria por no bajando suave.” Well, life is notorious for not going down smooth.
Max frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Life tastes bad.” She summarized tiredly, looking to the door.
“I think it tastes a little salty.”
“Gross, Max.”
He smiled mischievously. “And it goes down very smooth.” She looked at him and rolled her eyes, walking back toward the door, feeling like she’d been away from her job too long. “Hey,” He called. She unlocked the door, and turned, surprised to find him standing behind her. “Don’t go back out yet.”
“Why? I’m not here as a guest, y’know, I have to work.”
“I know, I know, I’ll let you work, I just want your number.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “What, you don’t want to give it to me?” He asked, somewhat taken aback.
“No, I don’t mind, I was just hoping you’d say something like ‘I’m the Vice Provost, you don’t have to work if I say so’ or ‘oh that’s fine I can grant you a day off’ or something. But sure, yeah, ask for my number, that’s cool.”
Max laughed a little awkwardly. “I don’t think I have the power to do that yet, but once my old man kicks it, for sure.” He said as he took out his phone and unlocked it, handing it over. Hennessy took it and shook her head as she opened his contacts.
“No, that’s great, joke about your dad dying too. Yeah, let me just laugh about my boss kicking it and then I can lose my job, that’ll give me a day off,” Max laughed, and she couldn’t resist joining in as she created her contact. “Real smooth talker, Vice Provost. Explains why you have seven hundred contacts.”
He took his phone back and smiled at her. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me that. I mean, I don’t call you ‘part time server Hennessy’.” She punched his arm.
“You bitch.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I guess that’s better than ‘Vice Provost’.”
They stared at one another for a minute, still giggling a little, and then the quietness of the secluded dressing room started to settle in.
“You look nice in a suit.”
“You do too.”
“I wish I didn’t feel so sick.”
“Me too. Make sure you take care of that trash can. I have to leave now, I’ll see you later, yeah?” Hennessy ducked out of the room quickly, feeling an unfamiliar nervousness come over her. For a moment, she thought she had a crush, but then she remembered who she was and how ridiculous it would be for her to have a crush on anyone like him, especially after she just gave him the heimlich maneuver. But still, when she went to go back to serving champagne, she felt a little quiver of excitement go down her back. It must be that she was cold, or tired, not that she wanted to go back in there and soothe him, not at all.
She smoothed her hair in her mirror and fixed her blazer, mastering her emotions. She had to work diligently tonight, whether or not he ever called her, since she didn’t want to get on Ms. Johanna’s bad side. The Vice Provost returned to the party looking collected and dashing, not like he’d been sick at all, and she wondered if his recovery time was this good for everything. They didn’t have either the chance or maybe the nerve to make eye contact again for the rest of the night. Why Hennessy felt a little sad as she walked back to her apartment she wasn’t sure. She still had the rest of thanksgiving break to enjoy herself, one night of serving wasn’t so much of an inconvenience. She’d made good money. But still, she felt a little mellow. On her couch, she cracked a can of beer and laid down across from the tv.
She was falling asleep when her phone buzzed, and she lazily shoved through the clutter on her coffee table to look at the slightly blurred text message from an unknown number.
“Hey. It’s me, Bitch.” She smiled.
Chapter 5: Gentle, December 27
Summary:
Sparks fly between Ky and Max from the moment they meet at a celebratory weekend hosted by the Cruz-Atwood Estate. Champagne, multiple courses, and watermelon facilitate a spectacular gut ache that KyJuan is happy to fix for the Vice Provost, but it seems like Max doesn't want him to fix it. He wants him to do something else, but luckily, KyJuan is pretty talented at that too...
Notes:
Ploty beginning, as I mentioned last chapter.
Chapter Text
He was exhausted. The excitement was understandable now that restrictions were off, FDR Millennial would be open for 100% occupancy after Christmas break, and the school staff was totally vaccinated, but his arms were tired from carrying trays and the back door was looking easier and easier to slip out of as the hours passed. He leaned against the hallway and closed his eyes, taking in a brief silence as fuel for the next few hours. Judging by the muffled hoots of laughter and clatter of glasses on the other side of the swinging door, he was in for a long one. Ms. Johanna, his boss, strode into the back of house and the noise wavered as the door swung on it’s hinges.
“Back to work, Ky.”
“Was just on my way to the pantry.” He hadn’t eaten since Ms. Johanna had given him a sandwich and an apple around lunch time before setting him back to work scrubbing plates with a waxing rag. Ms. Johanna had practically worked all day and night preparing for this weekend. The event was in session now and it had to go perfectly, which KyJuan knew meant no one, not even the butler, was going to eat until probably breakfast tomorrow--that is, excluding the guests.
Hennessy, now a busboy, was standing in the middle of the kitchen looking lost, holding a teetering armload of dishes. KyJuan put the bread and cheese next to the cook who’d asked for it, and went over to relieve them of half the burden.
“Ky, I gotta take a wiz and I just saw Joe walk through so I want to say hi before it’s too late. Think you can cover for me for a minute or two?” KyJuan nodded.
“I’m tired of climbing the stairs anyway. Just give me your jacket.”
Hennessy stripped off their tailored suit jacket and shoved it to KyJuan, who removed his sweater and shoved it under a counter, then pulled the jacket on over the button up shirt that he’d worn beneath. Hennessy looked him up and down. “Take the bow tie for good measure.” They slung off the tie and handed it over, then smacked KyJuan on the arm and smiled. “Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”
KyJuan smiled as he shifted the tight jacket over his broad torso. “Yeah, well you still owe me one. Now go fuck Joe.” Hennessy grinned, and before he knew it, they were gone. Swallowing hard, straightening the tie and blouse again, he pulled back the blue velvet curtain and strode into the dining room with confidence. There was no meandering or ambling in here.
On the East wall of the room were great, golden gilded double glass doors, and all walls were blooming with exotic flowers in imported bouquets. The doors stood open to let in a light breeze from a vaulted glass atrium whose roof had been cranked open to let some of the night in to relieve the hot, wine drunk guests.
All KyJuan had to do was collect plates and dishes. He approached the table in what he felt like was a rush, but was overtaken by a server holding a tiny purse, from which a senator produced a pair of pearl earrings for another guest, who oohed and ahhed over them until the senator-wife put them back in the purse and handed it to the server, who rushed away. KyJuan leaned past the dame and took her plate, which had been soiled by olive oil from a roma salad. She didn’t glance in his direction, but took a final tomato slice off the plate with a fork and popped it into her mouth before tossing the fork back as the plate passed her head, continuing the conversation about the earrings.
"Orville goes there for business because we have a little wine thing in the countryside, and he always brings me back something for my collection. Even,” she leaned in to her listener’s ear for the most scandalous part. “A pearl you-know-what ring.” The senator-wife giggled and waved her hand, which KyJuan noticed was sporting three pearl rings, one the size of a thumbnail. The lady didn’t lie about her pearl obsession. The other person fanned themselves incredulously, as KyJuan took their extra plate, smeared with squid ink. They pished and poshed about decency, but KyJuan was too far down the table to hear the rest of the pearl cockring story. He had hardly gone halfway down the East side when his arms were loaded and tired. Someone down the table beckoned, and he struggled to manage the pile of silver as he made his way over.
“Got arms for these?” The Provost pointed to a stack of four plates and a bowl that had been set aside from the place of a guy his age whose back-of-head KyJuan didn’t recognize. He was tall, tan, with good posture and nice clothing, brown hair swept back gently, lacking the polished slick of wax and oil of the haughty gentleman next to him, but well styled. KyJuan eyed the additional dishes warily, but seeing the towering stack of another busboy who was returning to the blue curtain, he nodded and let the Provost set them atop his armload.
After depositing the dishes, he watched a stuffed turkey leave the kitchen and get carted around, where it would enter from the double doors. Big items got brought in like guests. Hors d'oeuvres were brought in and out of the blue curtain, like the cauldron of four cheese soup someone placed in his hands and ordered him to take to ‘Mister Atwood’.
“Who?” he asked, but the cook was gone. He spun in a circle, holding the hot soup, but no one stopped to heed him. “I’m just a busboy--not even that actually, I’m actually an ingredient runner so--” Someone almost ran into him, cursed at him, and ordered him to get a move on.
Right. Mister Atwood it was, then. Oh, Hennessy so owed him for this. He made his way awkwardly down the East side of the table, quietly muttering, “Mister Atwood?” and being waved away. As he made his painstaking way down with the cooling soup, he noticed someone looking over in his periphery. That brown haired guy was eating a quiche slice and glancing over serially, so he made a leap of logic and took the soup straight to him.
“Mister Atwood?”
“Who’s asking?” The voice was like honey. Ky lost his words as he set the bowl down in front of him, but the smell of quiche reminded him that he hadn’t eaten, and his stomach growled. Mister Atwood raised an eyebrow. “Hungry?”
KyJuan grew flustered. “I guess.” Of course ‘Mister Atwood’ would be the son of Provost Earnst Cruz-Atwood.
The Vice Provost gestured at the dining table full of fine fare. “Go ahead, there’s already too much.”
“No,” KyJuan started to move on, collecting plates. “It’s fine.” But he continued to glance up at Mister Atwood as he removed dishes to declutter the table. In the kitchen, a chef beckoned him over and handed him a gold tray so they could load it with entrees. He didn’t bother to protest.
“These idiots.” Emmie muttered. “Three meals for one person. I’m not running a soup kitchen. I won’t hand out take out boxes.” They pointed out the curtain. “Atwood. And he’d better eat it all.” KyJuan remembered the four plates and a bowl and doubted very much that he would eat it all, rich bastard. He returned to Mister Atwood’s place and unloaded the tray, as the man thanked him politely and smiled.
“Would you like some?”
Ky shook his head. “I hope you enjoy it. Emmie worked hard to make it, and it would be a shame if it went to waste.” The young Atwood seemed surprised, and KyJuan mentally kicked himself. This was why he was a runner. When he raised his eyes sheepishly to the Vice Provost’s though, he didn’t look mad. In fact, he looked enticed.
“Come back in twenty minutes and bring a glass of champagne.”
Ky knew Hennessy would be the one to get his half eaten entrees by the time twenty minutes was up, but he nodded anyway and continued making his rounds. Every time he took plates back and food out, he looked, but Henny was nowhere to be found. Before he knew it, twenty minutes had passed and a half-hour chimed on the hall clock, so he grabbed a champagne glass, filled it with sparkly pink liquid that came from the first champagne bottle he saw, and left the curtain in a beeline for Mister Atwood, another reprimand hot on his lips. The more he had thought about the wasting of food, the more sure he felt he should have said something else.
Ky offered the glass to the man who was polishing off gravy with a roll in front of four clean dishes. The thought of chastising left his mind.
“Vice Provost, your champagne.” Young Atwood turned suddenly, as if he hadn’t been aware of his presence.
“Oh, thank you.” He took it from him and sipped, stifling a burp, then set down the drink with a sigh. “This course was good. Tell Emmie I’d like another round of the same.” His smile twinkled, and KyJuan saw the game as he met the gleaming eye calmly.
“Oh of course. I hope you won’t waste it.”
He returned to the kitchen. “Mister Awtood said it was good, Em. He would like another round of the same.”
Emmie threw down the rag they were using to hold a blade. “What? How dare he! How much did he waste?”
KyJuan put his hands on his hips and replied in slightly satirical bafflement. “None of it, ma’am.” The cook paused.
“Not one bit?” He nodded. “Well I doubt he’ll be able to do it again, but fine. Another round of the same.”
In ten minutes, the chef waved him back from a delivery and loaded him up with another tray. This time, KyJuan paid attention to what was on it. A sea of mashed potatoes covered in turkey gravy and garnished with dumplings, a thinly sliced beef roast au ju, a vegetable casserole slathered in cheese sauce, and a bowl of biscuit pudding with a hot caramel drizzle. He took the tray to Mister Atwood and unloaded it as the man knocked back the champagne and handed over the glass with a dashing smile.
“Your order, Vice Provost.” Ky murmured semi-sarcastically as he took the glass and smiled back. “Please enjoy every last bite,” he added with a borderline smirk. The provocative, enticing look Mister Atwood gave back made his heart skip a beat. He noticed the effect and smiled wider.
“I’ll see you in thirty with another champagne? I liked what you chose last time.” KyJuan giggled, and greasier Cruz-Atwood beside them glanced up from his conversation.
“I didn’t really choose it, it was the first one I saw.”
Sir Atwood shrugged. “You have a good eye, then.” The Provost Primo looked upset, and as KyJuan walked off to get dishes, he saw him lean over to say something to Mister Atwood, which the man laughed at and seemingly brushed off, sticking his fork into the vegetable casserole and sopping up cheese sauce while he ate it with a lingering smile.
Thirty minutes vanished, and in that time, the one o’clock tone echoed through the kitchen and Hennessy came rushing back, hair wild, clothes ruffled, and smiling from ear to ear. KyJuan dumped his dishes by the sink and pulled them beside a workstation.
“Where on earth have you been? It’s been an hour! You said only a minute or two!” Hennessy rolled their eyes and beckoned for KyJuan to hand over the clothes as they attempted to smooth their hair. KyJuan crossed his arms.
“Nuh-uh. You can’t go in there looking like that,” he pointed up and down Hennessy’s disheveled appearance. “And I’m in the middle of getting someone’s order. Take a minute to collect yourself or run ingredients, but Ms. Johanna wouldn’t like to see you out there like this.” He grimaced at the lipstick smudged, lackadaisical grin slapped on Hennessy’s face, and tightened his grip on the champagne glass. “If I knew you were going to be gone an entire hour fucking Joe I wouldn’t be mad, but you didn’t tell me that.”
“Of course I was coming back!” Hennessy growled, but nodded. “Alright. Hand over the cardigan. It's cold in that prep freezer.” KyJuan took his sweater out of the cabinet and brought it back to Hennessy, who pulled it on, tucked their shirt, and attempted to wipe lipstick off in the reflection of the shiny metal sink. They turned back to KyJuan, who had filled the champagne. “Do I look normal?”
“Do you ever?”
Hennessy smiled and took off toward the pantry. KyJuan returned to the Vice to find four more clean plates, though the bowl of pudding he was still finishing off.
“Mister Atwood, your champagne.”
The man smiled and ate the last two heaping spoonfuls of pudding before exchanging the dishes for the glass. He looked tired, but more prominently triumphant and smug. KyJuan congratulated him and the greasy Provost glanced over again, but he didn’t care. Mister Atwood flashed that dashing smile again and burped. KyJuan’s chest fluttered.
“I’ll have the same again.”
Ky almost dropped the dishes. Mister Atwood grinned sardonically, and it was a very good look on him, which did not help Ky keep hold of the dishes. He recalled that the first things he had taken from him were four plates and a bowl, meaning if he brought it to him again, that would be the fourth course just since he started bussing. He was still enticing him with his gaze, goading him on to question the seemingly endless ability to put away food. Ky couldn’t deny that he wanted to see him polish it off a fourth (maybe fifth? sixth?) time, but he worried about the repercussions.
“You’re sure, sir? The same again?”
Mister Atwood nodded. “I really would love it.” KyJuan nodded silently and moved on to collect dishes, noticing the man glance up at him as he went. The half hour dissolved like salt in a boiling pot.
He returned to Mister Atwood with champagne, and found not only the entire pudding untouched, but the last of the roast beef being picked at. The man looked up wearily as he approached, motions slightly languid. A few more elderly guests had gone home or to guest rooms in the house, so the table was only drunk young adults, desperate for company after months of quarantine. Mister Atwood’s father was among the crowd that had gone to bed, and the man was secluded at the end of the table. His left hand had gone under the table and the expensive suit jacket had been unbuttoned, though he remained well postured and fully tucked into the table cloth to conceal the dimensions of his stomach.
“Mister Atwood, your champagne.” The Vice Provost took the glass with a close-lipped smile that lacked some luster. KyJuan glanced at the plate.
“Would you like me to take your dish, sir?” The man scoffed.
“Not at all, I’ll be done with it soon, just-” he braced a hiccup with difficulty. “Come back in a quarter of an hour and bring a last course.”
KyJuan nodded demurely. “Of course. The last course of these meals is typically fruit, I believe.” The Vice Provost nodded absentmindedly and moved his hand under the table as Ky took his empty champagne glass and collected dishes, watching him boldly. Whenever their eyes met, he’d take another bite. KyJuan’s heart beat fast as the quarter of an hour disappeared and he went to get the last course.
It was a bold move on his part, but he figured since most of the cooks had left, Ms. Johanna was busy, and the guests were drunk, there was little risk. He descended to the pantry, passed Hennessy half asleep at the base of the stairs smoking a cigarette, took his bounty, and ascended, taking care to check the kitchen for Emmie before entering.
The dining room had moved on from tittering and conversing to way-too-loud arguments and uncontrollable laughter and cursing, so no one paid attention, not even Mister Atwood until he reached him, to Ky and his strange offering. When he placed the watermelon on the table in front of him, Mister Atwood’s face went through several stages of emotion. First shock, then indignancy, then comedy, and finally, a sly smile spread across his face.
“I’ve got nothing to eat it with.” The young man countered, smirking up at him.
“Would you like me to bring you a knife?” Ky replied, equally deadpan.
“I’m afraid I won’t know how to cut this, even when installed with the proper tools, dear.”
“Would you like me to cut it for you?”
A young lady down the table was watching the interaction with disbelief as she gulped wine and eavesdropped on everyone. But she declined to interfere, so Mister Atwood and KyJuan White continued.
“I would appreciate it, yes.”
“Ah, of course. Just allow me to take it back to the kitchen to prepare it for you, sir.”
“Please, call me Max.”
“Max, sir?”
“It’s short for Maximus, but that’s a stupid name--” he put his hand to his mouth and swallowed hesitantly, and KyJuan saw his arm move suddenly beneath the table. “What’s your name?”
"KyJuan. KyJuan White.”
“It’s been a pleasure interacting this evening, Mister White. Is that what your friends call you?” KyJuan cocked his head.
“Are we friends, Max?”
Max sipped champagne and shrugged. “I was actually hoping we could be quite a bit more than that.” The girl across the table choked on her wine, and both turned.
“Should we move this to the drawing room?” Ky suggested.
“Yes, I think that would be a good idea. Meet me there in ten, and bring this with you and a knife to cut it with.” KyJuan nodded and took the fruit.
In ten short minutes, he was in the drawing room with the watermelon hidden under a nearby couch, dusting a vase of flowers in the dark until he saw the glass doors shine in the moonlight and move the white glow on the floor. Slow footsteps entered the room, a slightly laboriously dragging of dress shoes across polished wood. He finished arranging the flowers, then stepped out from behind the display to see if it was him.
He was tall, like he had thought, and handsomer when standing, round shouldered, athletic enough, but too masculine to be pretty, with his big Latin eyes and smooth brow. He was dashing in air and dress, with a commanding aura that fit his title as Vice Provost. At the moment though, his most spectacular feature was resting in his hand.
His gut had taken on at least four large meals, and was fully displaying evidence. He shuffled to a couch and unsteadily took a seat, holding his stomach carefully as he rocked back into the chaise. Ky advanced and surveyed him quietly, as Max had not perceived him in the dark yet. No doubt he had gotten up from the table with difficulty, but as Ky’d known when he brought the watermelon, it would be remembered by not one single drunk party guest. He could dance naked on the table and they would wake up the next day with it blurred from memory.
Max’s left hand rested on the firm side of his massive belly, which rested heavily on his thighs and seemed to obstruct breathing, as he did pant slightly, whether from walking exertion, pain, or lack of breathing space Ky didn’t know. Max put his hand to his mouth and closed his eyes as a nauseous gurgle escaped him and he turned pale, but when he opened his eyes and saw KyJuan, he quickly laced his fingers together around his knee.
“Ah! Mister KyJuan. Where is the gift you brought me?”
KyJuan knelt and took the watermelon and a butcher knife from underneath the couch, hefting the melon onto his hip and holding the knife tip down. Max tugged his suit tighter to hide the width of his gut, then started to shuffle forward to the edge of the couch, placing a hand either side of himself and spreading his knees, but they both knew he needed help. KyJuan put out a hand and they grabbed each other’s wrists; between that and the arm of the couch, they hefted Max to his feet. Immediately, he leaned over and grabbed his stomach, still hanging on to Ky’s arm for support. Ky waited for him to catch his breath, then led him by the hand down the hallway to an unfrequented closet at the end of it. He creaked open the door, checked inside, and hastily pulled the weak man in.
It was stacked to the ceiling on all walls with old textbooks, literary papers, out of print novels, and magazines. Max staggered in, then let go of Ky’s hand and used both to rub his middle, gritting his teeth and moaning slightly. There was one chair, pushed into the corner and covered by a sheet, and Ky walked past Max unsympathetically, folded up the sheet, and dragged the armchair to underneath the square patch of moonlight coming from a window by the ceiling.
The walls were well insulated by the books and novels, which was ideal, as Maximus was making more noise now, groaning as if he were in the first stages of labor, not sore from overeating. Ky dragged him, protesting, in front of the chair and pushed him backwards into it, where he landed with a grunt.
In the moonlight, he saw the splitting closure of his white silk button down shirt. Though it fit loosely at the chest, it was bursting around his waist to popping buttons, and it was here that his left hand had migrated, gently hugging his girth.
Didn’t matter. They’d come here to eat a watermelon, and a watermelon they would eat. Ruthlessly, Ky set the melon on the floor at his feet between his criss crossed knees and sliced it in half, then into huge quarters. Maximus watched him, absentmindedly rubbing the front of his belly and intermittently burping.
“Where did you find that thing? It’s even bigger than my head.”
“Don’t worry, it’s pretty healthy; easy to eat a lot of it without knowing.” He answered, holding out a piece. Max scoffed at the last part and thumped his gut softly as a contestion, the dense sound of it sending a tremor through Ky that he wasn’t expecting, and he almost dropped it. When he regained himself, he saw Max’s smirk. “Let’s see how smug you are after two quarters have gone by and you realize you’re only halfway through.” Max hesitantly took the slice and bit into it. At first, he smiled.
“This is good.”
“Oh yeah?” KyJuan stood and leaned against a bookcase and watched, smirking. “Good.” After a few moments of silent, steady eating, he wiped his face and looked down at the bulging stomach resting on his thighs and pulling on his shirt.
“Wow, I’m pretty huge. I don’t usually get this big.”
KyJuan raised an eyebrow. “You do this often?”
Max ate more watermelon. “I wouldn’t say often; every once in a while. It feels good to pig out and eat until you’re sick, and then eat more until you feel like you’re going to die.” KyJuan looked him over with an eyebrow arched.
“You feel like you’re going to die?”
He shook his head and took another large bite. “Not yet. I think I’m a little champagne buzzed though, so I might be past my limit. I’ll only know when I’m sober.”
KyJuan sat on the floor to rest his legs and watched Max eat from below. “What’s your limit?”
Max wiped his mouth again and sipped from juice from the melon. “I thought it was five rounds, but I did seven tonight.”
“Seven?!” Ky interjected, aghast. “Were they all like the ones I brought?”
He paused and put his hand to his chest to coax out a burp. “Five were, the first round was the hors d'oeuvres in the atrium. I ate a lot of those and thought I’d spoiled my dinner, but then you came along and motivated me.” He smiled at Ky. “This watermelon probably makes a true seven, if I can finish it.” KyJuan nodded hesitantly, amazed and slightly horrified.
“Why do you do this?”
Max ate several more bites in succession, then struggled to swallow it down into his tense gut before he answered. “It makes me feel something. I don’t know if it’s power, or accomplishment, or just plain lust, but I constantly crave that feeling of fullness to the point of unconsciousness.” He stared at Ky’s pensive expression while he shoved his face into the watermelon.
“Okay.”
Max laughed a little. “I don’t think anyone has ever reacted that way to that statement.”
“It’s a little odd, granted,” Ky began, crossing his arms and looking at the watermelon waiting on the floor. “But everyone’s got their ‘thing’, and I like watching you, so eat on with power, Cruz-Atwood.”
“It’s Max.” He was halfway down to the rind when he lowered it, closed his eyes, and took a shaky breath. “Oh yeah. I know I’m not feeling it like I should be, but my stomach just reached a diameter it is unfamiliar with.” He shifted slightly and winced, then sighed. “Good. Whenever it passes a benchmark like this it loosens up a little, just in case I pop.” He voraciously devoured the melon and beckoned for another slice. “I want to get as much as possible down so I can get used to this. I’m resetting my limit.” KyJuan rushed to give it to him, taking the empty white rind and setting it down beside the bookcase. Max bit ferociously into the new one and let the juice drip down around his mouth, staining his lips pinker in white light as he closed his eyes and sat back. KyJuan watched, entranced, both his desperate expression, and his expanding gut, the size of which seemed disproportionate almost to cartoonishness compared to his frame. It was resting on his legs like a sack of grain, and the poor button was giving way. He pointed to it.
“Would you like me to undo your buttons, Maximus?”
Max glanced down at him and shifted. “Yeah. Pants too. I don’t usually undo my buttons because it’ll feel less visceral, but I think I’m in some new terrain now.” Ky got to his knees in front of him, and with one flick of the finger, popped the button off of his shirt with a ping , and released him. Max’s gut pushed outward into the free space with considerable force, splitting the rest of the buttons, and he moaned with pleasure.
“Oh god,” he groaned, closing his eyes. “New limit.” Ky struggled somewhat to get the pants button which was trapped under his belly undone, but he managed to get him to hold it up while he frantically wiggled the fabric.
It had cut a red line under his belly, and once he had undone the button and zipper, his stomach grew, and Ky caught it, rubbing along the red marks. Max had to stop eating to experience the relief fully. Ky tried not to notice, but the man's silk pants grew fuller in the front. He destroyed the second rind, tossed it on the ground, and held out his hands. Ky passed the third piece, he took a huge bite, and barely chewed before swallowing.
KyJuan was entranced. He wanted to touch Max’s huge gut, to kiss it, to hold it in his hands and feel the chaos inside it. It was swelling and he was beginning to notice clenching in it; he had a feeling that was not a good sign. Max kept eating at a rapid pace, bite after bite of watermelon, and when he was almost done with the third quarter after a few minutes of silent, meditative gorging, something gurgled. His stomach seemed to have been building tension, and all at once, it cramped, he put a hand on it, and it expanded beneath his palm. He moved that hand to his mouth and blocked the behemoth belch with all he could muster, but then the bubble of gas returned to his belly, and the whole thing lurched and shifted, tucking the bubble of air beneath the mass of food resting in his gut, blocking the way to his intestines. Seeing that things were about to change, he quickly took a bite of the last mouthful of watermelon on the third rind, handed it to KyJuan, and chewed ferociously, palming his belly with both hands as he tried to get the last bite down before whatever happened happened.
Just as he swallowed, his stomach heaved, and a hissing emanated from his lower gut. When he lifted it with both hands to relieve the awful pressure of building gas in his intestines, his underbelly expanded. When he let go, his stomach stayed there, like a table in front of his chest. KyJuan jumped to his feet and placed a hand over Max’s mouth, knowing that whatever was coming out, be it words or vomit, belonged inside.
Another monster burp was caught and forced back into the rapidly inflating gut, and Max clutched his belly, groaning in agony.
“Oh my god--hic-- , my stomach. I’ve never been so big, I feel like I’m going to explode, or I’ve ruptured something. KyJuan, it’s bad. It’s so bad. My stomach hurts so badly.” KyJuan ran his hand across Max’s mouth and wiped off the juice.
“What do you want me to do?”
He swallowed and shook his head, his face red and pinched. “There’s nothing to do. It’s only gonna get worse when the alcohol goes away.” He held it carefully. “It’s a pain balloon. It’ll either pop, or I’ll have to go to my room and have someone doctor me like a pregnant woman until it passes out of my guts but-” he paused to let it kick and blocked vomit. “I’d rather die.”
KyJuan folded his hands. “So you feel like you’re gonna die now, then?”
Max paused for a contemplative moment, then looked at him seriously. “No, I don’t.” KyJuan raised his eyebrows. “Don’t get me wrong, my gut's in agony, but it doesn’t feel like dying. It’s the champagne.” He cocked his head and looked out at the moon in front of the window a moment. “Hand me the last piece.”
“Absolutely not.” Ky marvelled.
“Do it. New limits.”
“This isn’t a new limit, you said you’re tipsy and impaired from feeling it.”
“Do it, KyJuan, or I’ll fall out of this chair and get it myself.”
Reluctantly, but unfortunately morbidly entranced, Ky handed him the last quarter and watched him slowly bite into its red center, eyes shut, stomach actively quaking in rebellion to the idea of ingesting more food. It made sounds while Max made sounds, and he grunted every time it twisted, groaned, or bubbled, but steadily ate half the last quarter before setting it down on the dome, and juice dripped down the curved surface of his shiny belly.
“There it is. That’s the new limit.” He took a shaky breath and shifted down in his seat, cautiously puffing out his gut. “Oh I’ve gone and hit the limit and my stomach didn’t like it. It’s worth it for the--ohgod--” He shot up in the chair and doubled over, squeezing his belly and hugging the girth, panting, cock visibly getting stiffer as his stomach protested it’s seven meal binge with loud gurgling, and KyJuan watched little bubbles petter their way down the beautiful sides of the belly in Max’s hands.
After a full minute of sitting still and trying to wrangle his gut, Max sat back, pale, sweaty, and round as hell. His stomach dwarfed his frame, overtaking his torso. It had a dome on top, in front, and on all sides, dripping with watermelon juice. The watermelon had fallen to the floor; KyJuan kicked it away and watched mortified, as Max took his shaking hand to his navel and began to move it around in small circles, pressureless, light as a feather, but intentional.
"KyJuan. I need your help.” He began, his voice barely together. “I need to go to my room.”
“I can’t take you, someone will definitely see us.”
“I have to, once I’m there no one will know anything. I have a plan. I just need to get upstairs to my bedroom.”
KyJuan sighed. “Can you even stand?”
“If you’ll help me, yes.” He leaned forward, pleading, resting a hand on the top of his belly. “Please, KyJuan.” He belched with some pain. Ky genuinely felt bad for him, and seeing him there with that massive ball protruding from his gut was pitiful. He nodded. “Thank y--” Max put his hand over his mouth, and his stomach creaked like a door far off in a mansion as fear dawned in his eyes.
“Are you alright? What does that look mean?”
Max spoke softly. “I could stand up and walk if it was just this awful gut ache, but--” He glanced down and then back, swallowing hard. “I have another problem.”
“What is it? What’s the problem?”
Max folded his lips and stared at him. Ky waited expectantly for the response, but it fell to him to draw a conclusion. His eyes travelled from Max’s flushed face to his exposed collar and chest, to that massive, throbbing sore stomach, to his trousers and--oh. Oh now he got it. He looked back at Max’s face, but the man had closed his eyes in a sort of careful equilibrium of don’t move, don’t puke. Ky took initiative, slowly walking towards the chair, entranced by the statuesque display of zero self control. He chuckled at that round gut poking towards him, a litter of buttons on the floor around it with a hard on. He squatted down and touched it. Max’s brow furrowed.
“Gentle.” He whispered.
“That’s all I know how to be.” Ky replied, pulling the flaps of the man’s fly further back around his stomach and slipped his hand underneath it to the stiff boner. “Hey, baby…” He murmured, slipping his finger back and forth over the tip until it was wet. Max trembled. “Need help?” He asked softly, grabbing the package as a whole, shaking it around to test its weight. Max’s balls were pretty heavy. He felt like he deserved to get lighter, so he slipped his hand inside the elastic waistband of his underwear and wet his hand with precome.
Max gasped for air as he took his fingers down the side of the shaft, gently tracing the engorged member with his nails, listening to the unintelligible whimpers coming from above. “Poor thing.” He wrapped his hand around it and pumped, watching the muscles under Max’s belly contract with stimulation. He jerked.
“Augh--”
KyJuan muttered soothing things as he kept pumping that cock for fluid, enjoying the feeling of warm, sticky come flowing over his wrist. Max’s breath quivered with each inhale as he struggled to keep himself from begging.
“Let it out, Maximus. Let it come rushing out of you. You gotta go lay down, rest that belly. You do wanna rest that belly, don’t you? Don’t wanna let it get too big… too sick… too painful… It hurts, right? It hurts a ton, I know. It probably weighs a ton too, don’t you think? You weigh a ton, Max. You’re so heavy.”
“Fuck.” Max whispered pitifully. “Who are you again?”
“My friends call me Ky.” KyJuan answered, leaning forward. “But you can call me whatever you’d like.” He slipped his mouth over Max’s penis.
Even his moans were shaky as Ky slipped his lips down to the base of Max’s shaft and inhaled through his nose, preparing to take him back to his tonsil. The bell end of his cock tucked neatly into the back of his throat and Ky groaned a little, trying to cup his curve with his tongue. Max was almost yelling. He slipped him out again.
“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. I won’t push you too hard, you just be good and come for me and it’ll all be over, then you can lay down and wake up feeling better; less full, hm?”
Max’s brow creased with lust and he leaned back in the chair, looking up at the ceiling desperately. Ky kissed his stomach and rubbed his hands down either side of it, gently massaging into the tight flesh as Max panted and quivered. There was a mix of pain and pleasure in his face as Ky slid his hands down to the fabric on Max’s thighs and licked his dripping dick. He took pleasure in the relaxation he felt on the sides of Max’s stomach as he took him in again, all the way back to his tonsil, sucking on his member and swirling his spit around the shaft.
Max jerked and grabbed his thigh, inadvertently placing his hand over Ky’s. Ky took the opportunity to turn over his palm and lace their fingers together, gently squeezing his hand as he bobbed up and down on his cock with his eyes closed. Max’s stomach gurgled and Max cried out in confusion, his bellend sinking down Ky’s throat but his gut squeezing.
“I can’t--”
Ky stopped and pulled his head off immediately, palming Max’s dick gently for comfort. “Calm down.” Max held his gut and cried out. “You’re okay. Breathe.” Max panted and groaned, letting go of Ky’s hand and rubbing his sweaty palm down his thigh.
“I’m going to hurl. This really hurts.” Ky rubbed circles on Max’s stomach as the man closed his eyes and moaned, shaking and squeezing his thigh.
“Relax, Daddy.” Ky murmured, kissing Max’s sides.
“Come here.” Max commanded, grabbing Ky’s wrist and pulling him up, then yanking him forward. KyJuan stumbled, and let himself get pulled onto Max’s knees, the belly in between his thighs, face to face with Max, who reclined, exhausted. Ky was flustered, he didn’t know if Max wanted him to hurt him or help him, and the look in his eyes made him wonder if he was supposed to just kiss him. He let Max pull him forward, slowly, until Ky leaned on his chest and felt Max’s belly against his waist. Max flinched as his insides gurgled, and Ky reluctantly shifted around, feeling an erection building. Even with his cheek against Max’s chest he felt the man smile. “Just hug me, please.”
“Okay.” Ky whispered, and he wrapped his arms behind him and closed his eyes, feeling the burbling against him and the gradual relaxation of his rigid frame as they hugged each other and breathed in sync. Suddenly Max sucked in a breath and groaned a little in KyJuan’s ear. Immediately, he took his hands from behind the man to in front of him, kneading in on the sides of his belly compassionately, hearing his weak breathing. Max grabbed his wrist.
“Stop it. You’re soothing it.”
Ky sat up, eyes wide. “That was what you wanted.”
He stared back. “All I need is for you to help me finish.”
KyJuan grabbed the man’s face and pressed his lips against Max’s, fully erect. Max tucked his hand under Ky’s arm, placing his palm lovingly behind Ky’s back, the intimacy sending a shiver through him. The warmth of his mouth and the gentle dig of Max’s fingers into his shoulder blade made his heart soar. He rubbed his pelvis against Max’s penis and moaned a little, feeling their lips tug as Max turned his head and stuck his tongue in Ky’s mouth, leaning forward and grabbing his leg. KyJuan shuddered, desperate to get this man off. He humped against Max’s lap and held his perfect jaw while passionately making out, and Max slid his hand down KyJuan’s back to his ass, and to his complete shock and awe, he picked him up and stood. KyJuan put his legs down, wiping his mouth and catching his breath. Max leveled a serious stare.
“Come upstairs with me.”
“I can’t.” Ky answered.
“No one will see us, I swear, I can keep you out of trouble.”
“No, I mean I can’t can’t.”
Max looked him up and down, unimpressed. “I don’t know what this means.”
“It means I don’t think there’s anything I can do with you there that I didn’t do with you here.”
“Oh, you’re saying you’re a virgin.”
“Yes.”
Max shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck slightly hesitantly. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
Ky smiled. “Maybe someday, Max. But right now I think I need to get you to bed before you’re too tired to move. How’s your cock?” He looked at it. “Still up, I see.”
“Thanks to you.”
He put his hands up. “If you don’t want me to handle you next time, then I won’t.”
Max grabbed his arm and pushed him against the bookcase, smirking dangerously in the moonlight. “Now, I didn’t say that.” Ky’s heart pounded against his ribs as he stared up into Max’s eyes, slightly tipsy, very aroused, and felt a glow in his chest. He wanted to fuck Max, but he also wanted to put the man to bed and go think for a long time. He chose option two.
Ky slowly put his hand on Max’s penis and started to rub it. Max held his wrist against the wall and didn’t drop his eyes, though he grunted and grit his teeth. Ky looked back at him in open submission, trembling as Max pushed him against the wall and breathed heavily. He cupped the tip between his fingers and slid to the base, picking up Max’s balls. The man flinched and went weak. Ky gave him a small and encouraging nod, and caught Max’s come in his hand, picking up the sheet and protecting the floor and the books. Finally finished, Max relaxed a metric ton, and Ky half carried him up the back access stairs to his bedroom, leaving as soon as Max opened the door. He had a lot to think over, and a boner.
Chapter 6: Double Trouble, December 29
Summary:
Maximus and Hennessy have been meeting up regularly since the day they met, but this latest invitation is brand new. Max offers to stuff Hennessy, and she cautiously accepts, but the whole event devolves into milk chugging and sex before either of them knows what's going on. The pain and the pleasure seem endless, until they aren't.
Chapter Text
“So you’re saying… I just sit here… and I eat?” Hennessy asked, for the third time. Max crossed his arms above his stomach, which was still too large to be toted around the way he was just walking about as if he didn’t have seven pounds of food in his gut from two days ago. Hennessy was worried. His gut was too calm for comfort.
“Yes, Hennessy. This is not a difficult concept.”
She was still reluctant, as she sat in front of two pots of porridge, prepared by herself, for herself, in her apartment. She got Sundays off from work, and her friend with benefits, Señor Atwood, had come to see her. They were in the little place she shared with KyJuan during the summers and breaks, a three room, with a bedroom for each and a kitchen/living room. At first, Max was uncomfortable with the clear monetary disparity between them, but Hennessy’s relaxed nature and the excitement of their task quickly pushed that away. She sniffed the porridge, and then sat back and crossed her arms.
“I’m going to get tired of the taste.”
“That’s why I told you to make it plain. When you’re tired of plain, we’ll add sugar and fruit, until either we have nothing else to add, or you’re done.”
Henessy nodded slowly. “And when am I done?”
“When the porridge is gone.” Max replied patiently.
“What if I can’t finish it?”
He smiled cunningly. “I’ll help you.” She snorted and chuckled to herself. “Alright Miss Marquillo. Estas listo?”
She still looked unconvinced, but nodded solemnly and stared down the two pots of porridge gravely as Max slid one towards her. He carefully took his seat across the table, wedging himself between the wall and the table’s edge.
Hennessy slowly began spooning porridge into her mouth. It was thick and milky. Ordinarily, it would be good, as she was a good home cook, but today she swallowed every bite with a sense of dread for some half unknown awful sensation to come.
Hennessy rarely ate too much, hell she’d had trouble eating enough between all her work. She usually got herself satisfied sometime in the month, especially around Christmas, but the sensation of being as full as two stew pots of porridge was foreign to her. The sensation of being as full as him sounded downright hellish. After about fifteen spoonfuls of porridge, leaving most of the pot, she sat back.
“I’m done.”
Max looked up from where he had been drawing circles on the table with his fingertip.
“You want sugar now?”
Hennessy shook her head. “No. I’m done. I don’t want any more.” Max leaned forward as far as his stomach would allow and tipped the porridge pot toward himself, before thrusting it back toward her, appalled.
“Henny, you’ve got to be joking! You barely made a dent!”
She scowled. “That’s a lie.” She looked inside the pot. “I made it nearly one third of the way.”
“That’s pathetic!”
She shrugged. “Pathetic or not, that’s how much I eat.”
Max put his face in his hands and shook his head. “It’s about how much you’re capable of eating, Hennessy. That’s what we’re here to find out: What’s your limit.”
Hennessy frowned. “I don’t know about that.” Max rubbed his hands down his cheeks and sighed.
“What if I help you? I’ll feed you, then you don’t have to be nervous. Just eat when I tell you to eat.” Hennessy cocked her head. Max stared at her across the table, letting his finger draw absentminded ovals on the wood. Finally, she nodded.
“Alright. You can do that.”
Max grinned. “Honestly, it’s an even better experience for me. Watching you swallow down painstaking spoonful after painstaking spoonful was a little bit too much of a slow burn.”
He shuffled his chair to her side of the table and put the pot in front of him, holding the metal spoon in his hand, poised for serving. Hennessy arranged herself sideways, with her back to the wall and her knees to Max. She leaned forward, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back with her mouth wide open. Max paused and looked at her, feeling his cheeks get pink. He chuckled as he placed the heaping spoon of sticky porridge in her mouth, and watched her chew on it slowly, cheeks full. She swallowed, cleared her throat and opened her mouth again. He paused.
“Alright Hennessy, if you take that long to eat every bite, we’re gonna be here for days finishing this stuff.” She opened her eyes, dismayed.
“I guess you’re right. I just--can I be honest?”
Max nodded and rested the spoon in the pot.
“I…” She began hesitantly. “Whenever I eat, I always stop before I’m full.” Max looked confused, so she explained.
“Why would you do that?” He asked, incredulous. “Wait--you don’t have a disorder, do you?”
Hennessy shook her head. “No, nothing like that, I’ve just never reached an ‘I’m done. I’ve had as much as I want.’ before, so I’m scared to feed myself for pleasure. What if I don’t know when to stop?”
Max thought to himself for several seconds. “Have you considered that your limit is just much higher than you ever thought? My limit was always high. I’d have to eat tons before I was really satisfied all my life. My mother said it was just an active boy’s appetite, but I knew it was something better. Something I was born to do.”
“You’re saying my purpose on earth is to gorge myself at parties and have sex with strangers?”
“No, that’s my purpose. I’m just saying some people are endowed with big stomachs, and it means we get a little more enjoyment out of the simple things in life like eating than other people do.”
“Look at me, Maxy.” She gestured up and down her curvy body. “Does it look like I have a big eating capacity?”
“You’re little-waisted, yes,” Max began, picking up the spoon again. “But that doesn’t say anything about how much you’re capable of eating. Like I said, we’re finding your limit, and it might be high.” He put the spoon in her mouth and she swallowed much faster and opened her mouth again. He was pleased and put in another heaping spoonful.
“I like that idea,” she mused, between smacks of her lips. Max was shocked to see her decorum dissolve so quickly, but not at all upset. “Do you?”
Max nodded emphatically. “This is very enjoyable for me. I can stuff myself, but stuffing someone else is always better. Less of a recovery journey. One thing that would make it even better, if you care about what this is like for me at all, is if you would describe what you’re feeling while we do it. I know what it feels like to be chasing my limit, but hearing the story from someone else’s perspective is both validating and sexy.”
Hennessy laughed as she swallowed another spoonful and opened her mouth. “I don’t think I’ll be able to wax poetic like you, but I can at least describe what I’m feeling.” Max smiled and nodded as he fed her more porridge. She spoke as she chewed. “Right now I feel fine. I feel pretty good actually. I get to spend my day off with a hot guy who’s helping me ‘find my limit’, and he looks like he’s pregnant, but he’s actually quite athletic. It’s nice. Although I am worried that he might have some gastrointestinal issues.” Max rolled his eyes and fed her another huge spoonful of porridge, glancing into the pot. They were moving along at a very good pace.
“I’m not quite sick of plain porridge, although it does taste boring. Porridge has always tasted boring though; I think I might be biased at the moment.”
Max shoved more porridge in her mouth and smirked. “I didn’t ask you to ramble. Just describe your journey.”
“This is my journey!”
“Fine, then. Don’t tell me about it.” She narrowed her eyes menacingly at him as she chewed and continued.
“The hot guy is being a moron at the moment. He sure talks a lot of heat for someone who hasn’t had a bowel movement in 48 hours.” Max snorted with laughter, and Hennessy tried not to choke on porridge as she laughed through her nose. She swallowed and opened her mouth again, and he fed her spoonful after spoonful in a steady, sticky rhythm for a while.
“How far are we?” She asked, before closing her lips around another spoon of porridge and sucking it down.
“You’re almost done with this pot.” Max replied, dabbing the corner of her mouth as she chewed. “How do you feel?”
Hennessy swallowed with effort, and didn’t lean forward for more. “Okay. Kind of bloated.”
“Let me see.” Max put the pot back next to it’s companion, and beckoned to her. She sat up straight and turned towards the table, tucking one hand under her belly. He let out a low whistle.
“Damn. This much food would barely put a bump on me, but you? Skinny people have nowhere to hide it.” She turned back towards him and slouched down in her chair, resting her feet on the crossbar of his chair, between his knees and in front of his belly. He leaned forward over to spoon her more porridge, and she lazily parted her lips and swallowed it down, resting one hand on the relatively noticeable bulge of her tummy. Her well kept, shapely frame was easily disrupted by just a little too much food. The stomach that was flat at best and concave many days of the year was ballooning rather quickly. Her loose blouse had a bubble under it where it hung over her belly. She looked down at it while she ate, and Max watched her face. At first, she was just surprised to see it, curious about this new aspect of herself, then she was relishing in the fact that her stomach was visible, and leaned back up to eat faster.
“Woah, slow down there partner. You’ll get indigestion.” Max warned, as she gulped down a heavily loaded spoon of porridge without chewing. She placed a hand lightly on the bump beneath her shirt and wrinkled her nose.
“You’re right. I felt that last one, right here.” She pointed at the side of her torso and poked it gently, wincing a little. “How are we doing, señor?” Max scraped his spoon along the inside rim of the pot.
“Last spoonful from this pot. Chew it good, okay?” Hennessy opened her mouth, and leaned back as she swallowed, gently cupping her stomach in both hands, and looking out the window at the apartments across the courtyard as he cleared away that pot and lugged the other one over.
“Speaking of indigestion, Max,” she began, as he raised an eyebrow and held out a poised spoonful, which she leaned forward and ate. “Are you sure you’re okay? I mean, you’ve been holding all that in there for a while now.” She stared at his stomach, which was now resting peacefully on his thighs, like an anchor that kept him sitting in the chair. He shrugged and rested a hand on it as he spooned more food into her mouth.
“I think I’m okay, I mean, it’s not like I’ve been trying to keep it, it’s just not moving.” She frowned as she swallowed and opened her lips again.
“Doesn’t that worry you at all? What does it feel like when you eat breakfast and stuff?”
“I haven’t eaten since Friday night.”
Hennessy jolted upright and practically choked on the porridge. “What? You haven’t eaten anything at all since then?”
“No. Of course not. Why would I?”
“Because you need nutrients! Vitamins! Proteins!”
Max shrugged. “I have those, right here.” He thumped the dense mass of his gut and spooned her more porridge.
“But you aren’t getting them.” Hennessy insisted, while chewing. “Because your food isn't digesting. It’s just sitting there, probably going sour inside you.” He scoffed.
“Food can’t go bad inside you.”
“The hell it can! Haven’t you heard of the flu?”
“That’s different, the flu is an illness, and I don’t have it. Otherwise I would be sick right now.”
“And you feel good right now?”
He glanced to the side. “I feel fine. And right now I actually would rather talk about how you feel. What’s your status?”
Hennessy shifted and took a moment to think. “We’re definitely in the territory of uncomfortableness. I’m full, that’s for sure.” She squished in on the sides of her stomach with distaste. “I would say I’m about four fifths of the way there, to my limit.” Max raised an eyebrow.
“Four fifths? I think you might be underestimating yourself.” She shrugged.
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
A few minutes of silent eating and musing went by, until Hennessy swallowed, but didn’t lean up for more. She closed her eyes, leaned back in the chair carefully, and furrowed her brow, breathing heavily through her nose. Max set the pot on the table, and gestured for her to scoot forward. All she did was groan.
“C’mere.” He intoned gently.
“Oooh,” she mumbled. “Stomach ache.” He grabbed her chair and dragged it forward, and she leaned off the wall, protesting.
“Show me.”
She took her arms from being wrapped around her waist, and tucked one hand under her belly, twisting sideways lazily for him to check her progress.
“My, my, my,” he muttered, laughing to himself. “That’s almost a gut. Not quite, but almost.”
She grunted her disdain. “This is awful. Is a gut the thing you’ve got?” He smiled and placed a hand on the top of his protruding stomach.
“Yes, I’d say this is a gut. What you’ve got on you is a belly. A good one, but still a belly.”
“Then I don’t want a gut. I’ll stick with this.” She leaned her head on the table and cupped her belly in both hands, gently rubbing the sides of it while Max patted her shoulder.
“You’re going great, Henny. I remember my first time… sitting in my room surrounded by Halloween candy…” He looked off into the distance and frowned. “That didn’t end well.”
Hennessy raised a hand to her mouth and burped. “How’d it end?”
“Well, I scarfed it all down too fast because I was inexperienced, and some of it didn’t get fully chewed for sure. I felt good for about three minutes after I’d done it, laying on my back surrounded by wrappers and empty bags. Then the gut ache that followed taught me a lesson for sure, and I couldn’t go to my mom for help, obviously, cause I looked like I’d just swallowed a soccer ball. I just laid on my floor and cried while my heart rate climbed from the sugar, then I passed out, then I woke up and vomited it all into my bathtub. Bad day, that. I was only like, thirteen.”
Hennessy nodded. “That sounds pretty bad.” She raised her head slowly and opened her mouth for more. He spooned in porridge while he reminisced on his past exploits.
“It was pretty bad, but it was my first time, so I was bound to make some mistakes. The second time though, those mistakes were all mine to own.”
Hennessy ate with her eyes closed, and both hands constantly working on massaging her stomach, listening to the stories of Max’s past eating troubles to soothe the aching pain in her own swollen midsection. “What was the second time?”
“The second time was at Christmas dinner. There was this cute girl there. Her mom was new in the senate and my mom invited their family to be nice. She was a big girl, and she liked me. I liked her of course, and I noticed she watched me eat. Somehow, I managed to signal for her to meet me in the foyer. When leftovers and empty plates were taken away, she made me finish them. Even full menu items, like sweet potato pudding—half a tray of sweet potato pudding got sent back and she made me eat all of it, sitting there in the foyer.”
“She made you?” Hennessy ventured, opening her mouth for the porridge he absentmindedly spooned in.
“Yeah, she called me names when I stopped shovelling food in my mouth. I don’t know why I let her do that. I mean, I guess she didn’t make me; she didn’t literally hold me down and force feed me, but I felt like if I stopped she was going to tell on me, or stop liking me, or something. I don’t know, that was a bad Christmas. And then of course I had to sit through all these stupid ceremonies afterwards. We each unwrap a gift, we exchange cards, we sing a carol, we go to Mass. The whole time we’re sitting around the fire drinking eggnog and making merry, and I feel like I’ve got a bomb in my stomach, sitting there overheating in the sweater I put on to try and hide my massive gut, this girl is staring me down across while I struggle to sip this sickening eggnog.”
“What an awful time.”
“Oh yeah. I almost got noticed when we were leaving for Mass. My gut was killing me, so I skirted out to the entryway before everyone else fully migrated to the doorway, hoping to y’know, get some wind out to relieve myself, and I’m standing there, bent over, holding my gut, getting ready, and my aunt walks in. I dropped down and started tying my shoes, hiding my belly, and throw my coat on and pull it close. The girl is staring at me with these beady eyes, just begging me to ask to stay home, or say I don’t feel good.”
“Fucking hell, dude. I mean, it’s awesome the way you were able to hold out, though.” Hennessy unbuttoned another button at the top of her blouse, and waved her collar to get some cool air through to her clammy neck and chest. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyelids were drooping, but she kept opening her mouth for porridge, holding her belly tightly every time she swallowed. Max could see how much the nausea was getting to her, and how the stories were distracting her from the pain. Maybe they would really be able to reach her limit on this first try without her giving up. He kept talking as he fed her.
“Oh yeah. In the ride over, every bump in the road made me feel like I was about to puke. When we got to the chapel I was practically crying, but I hid my face in my jacket. Luckily, that girl had to ride in the other car with her mom, and as soon as ours pulled in, I leapt out and said I was going to catch up with her, and my mom didn’t think anything of it. That girl went looking for me, but I was gone. I went to the bathroom, which was a short walk---waddle, really---around the back of the chapel, but it was worth it. I spent the whole Mass service kneeling in there, apologizing to Mary for missing the service, but I would have died, cried, or something worse if I had to sit in that chapel with the ache that was panging inside me for two hours.” Max dabbed at a little porridge in the corner of Hennessy’s half open mouth, and tucked her slightly sticky hair behind her ear. She was panting. They were almost done. Her stomach was protruding from her torso, a globe of smooth white blouse, with holes of brown visible through the straining buttons. She sat with her legs splayed, and her arms too tired to rub her belly nonstop, so she just held it in between her two thighs, hanging over her pelvis. Max knew the feeling. Nearing the limit for the first time, nausea, dizziness, and oh that sweet, sweet, stabbing pain that signalled the beginning of your stomach’s campaign against you. The limit depended on how long you could hold out once your stomach started full on rebelling. Hennessy wasn’t going to last long this first time, but he could help her out a little.
“Then there was this one time, way later. That Christmas was the same year of the Halloween fiasco, and I’d just turned 14. This was later when I was 15. Did I ever mention that my mother was a chef? Well, anyways she was, but when my father came into all his money from the death of his father, she had to quit her chef job. They called all these master chefs together from all over to see who would replace her. They had to prepare this meal--“ Hennessy put a finger over his mouth and cut him off. She had her arm wrapped around her waist, and was hunched over in the chair, breathing heavily.
“Something’s different. Something’s changed.”
He put down the pot and rubbed her upper back while she took deep breaths, trying to banish the nausea and calm her swirling stomach. He glanced inside the pot. She had five, maybe six spoons left until two pots of porridge were stuffed inside her.
“It’s just your body’s way of telling you you’ve had too much. It doesn’t mean you have to stop.”
Hennessy grit her teeth and palmed the packed side of her stomach, wincing as she felt her muscles contract violently around the food inside her. “I think I have to stop or I’ll-“ she put a hand over her mouth and tensed, bent over, waiting for her stomach to calm down. Max tucked the hair that had fallen by her face behind her and watched her face flush red, but the wave passed, and she took her hand away and leaned back in the creaky chair. Max waited a little while as she burped and rubbed the tight globe of her stomach, eyes shut. He knew how it hurt, but they were so close.
“Henny darling, you only have a couple spoons left.”
She covered her mouth and shook her head. “Can’t. Gonna puke.”
“I’ve been where you are before, and trust me, it’s going to feel so much better once you get these down. The satisfaction almost makes it worth it.”
“I can’t. I think I reached my limit.”
“But it’s just two spoons or so.”
“I’m telling you I’m going to--” She quickly shut her mouth as her cheeks bubbled, and her face went greenish. He shuffled backwards and looked around the room for a trashcan, but finding none, he grabbed the empty pot and held it in front of her. Her stomach lurched, and she clamped a hand over her mouth, hanging over the pot he held out beneath her face, while he leaned back and wrinkled his nose. Her stomach made an awful noise, she gagged, grunted, but swallowed, leaned back in the chair, and sighed. Max still left the pot out, not convinced that the wave of sickness was gone.
“I’m not a pussy. I can keep it down.” Max raised his eyebrows. “Give me the last two spoons.” Max glanced inside the pot and grinned sheepishly.
“Okay, it might be closer to four or five. Maybe six.”
“What?”
Max grimaced as he sized up the lump of porridge in the pot. “I underestimated to motivate you, but I still think you can do it. You’re pretty much there, just get a little bit more down.”
“Ohhh,” Hennessy moaned, closing her eyes. Max loaded a spoon and offered it. Dutifully, she opened her mouth, and Max gently shoved the heaping spoon between her lips, wiping off what was left around her chewing maw. She held her rumbling belly as she chewed, and gulped it all down at once, wincing as the food hit her stomach and it protested loudly. She rapidly moved her hand around on the side of her bloated gut, trying not to apply pressure, but to dissuade the cramping. Max had another spoon ready almost instantly, but she turned her face away and wrinkled her nose.
“Come on, Henny, do it quickly. Don’t prolong this part.” He coaxed, pulling her chair closer. Pouting, she opened her mouth again, closed it on the spoon loaded with porridge and groaned while she chewed and swallowed. Every time she gulped down the mush, she felt a stabbing pain in her side, where the muscle cramp and some cursed gas was located inside her. Her breath came short as she felt the mass inside her shift around, trying to make room for the lump of porridge the size of a fist.
“Fuck me…” she groaned, as another gurgle made its sickening way up from the depths of her belly. Max went red.
“I honestly really would like to but we have four spoonfuls left.” The words “four spoonfuls” made her gag, but she opened her mouth again and swallowed the third spoonful. “Augh!” She squeezed her eyes shut and panted as her stomach shifted its weight once again to admit more food inside its over stretched girth. The bulbous side of it spasmed as a pang of pain raced around the widest point of her torso. She panted and slouched carefully over, holding her stomach. Max slipped a loaded spoonful into her parted lips, and she swallowed it grimacingly, leaning her head back against the top of the chair back.
“Señora, you have just passed the halfway point.” He leaned forward and patted her belly proudly.
“I hate you.”
Max shrugged. “That’s fine. As long as you let me feed you these last ones.”
“I really really hate you.”
“Hating me is not going to help your situation, but I’ll tell you what, swallowing these last three spoonfuls will.”
“Three?” He looked away sheepishly, and she glared at him. “I actually think,” Hennessy countered, struggling to sit up straight again. “Swallowing those last three spoonfuls will make my situation worse.”
“Physically maybe, but not psychologically. And I’m telling you, mastering your brain is half the battle. To your brain you’re still eating right now, so your stomach is going to hurt you to make you stop. If you eat these last three, you’re no longer still eating and you’ll feel better. Trust me, I know what it’s like.”
Hennessy palmed her gut and belched. Max’s dick flicked as she wiped her mouth and slouched forward, the unbuttoned bust of her shirt falling open. She opened her mouth, and Max shoved a spoonful of porridge in excitedly, and she half choked.
“Slow down!” She snapped, struggling to chew the massive mouthful before it slid down into her belly, which erupted with noise as it made room. She pushed her legs to either side and leaned forward, letting her gut hang between her thighs and rumble with pain. She cupped her arm around it like a heavy watermelon pulling her down, which it very much resembled. “Ooh, ooh, ooh, these gurgles don’t feel like digestion…” She whined, and Max had to keep himself from laughing at the pouting girl, holding her belly under the table like a delicate water balloon. He raised her head gently with his fingertips, and she let him spoon in the penultimate heap of porridge, which she chewed slowly and painedly, rubbing rapid circles above her navel, where her gut was most stretched out. Suddenly, she pushed her chair back and placed both hands on the table, gasping.
“Are you ok?” Max ventured. Hennessy didn’t respond, but stretched out, ass on the chair, arms extended to grab on to the table’s edge. Her stomach hung in between, heaving and contracting, fighting the amount of food still being forced into it with a violent shifting and gurgling that made her loudly moan. Not to his credit, Max’s dick flicked again. He placed a hand on her back, but she shook him off and sat up from the table, looking exhausted. “C’mon Henny. Last one.” She said nothing as he scraped his spoon along the sides and bottom of the pot, building up a heap of sticky porridge on the spoon, tucking his hand under it as he approached her mouth with it. She pursed her lips and recoiled at first, as her stomach tossed at the smell of more food, but she managed to open her mouth wide enough for him to scoop the last of two pots of porridge into this once tiny waisted girl.
Her stomach was making noise nonstop, burbles, gurgles, bubbles, and rumbles filled the room as she chewed laboriously, her cheeks occasionally puffing with reflux. She stopped to quickly reach around to the most overstretched point of her belly, just above the navel, and gently rub it, pressing out a cramp. She seemed to chew forever, cheeks full, face clammy, stomach revolting. The puffed out sides of her belly was where she was feeling the most cramping. Stabbing pains on both sides accosted her every time she went to swallow. Every shift in her seat, every creak of her chair, was accompanied by another flash of agony on the bulging sides of her gut. She rubbed the girth desperately, wanting to be done, wanting this hell to be over. She looked over at Satan, who was sucking on the spoon and watching her very contentedly and comfortably (as comfortably as he could be), leaning back in his chair and smiling. The smug look on his face made her overcome the revulsion and rejection from her stomach. She swallowed. At first there was nothing. Then her stomach erupted.
It was so completely stuffed that the food had nowhere to go, and it simply felt like a punch in the gut. She grabbed her stomach and gasped, leaning forward over it and groaning as she gripped the bulging sides, the rounded front, the tortured underbelly, the puffed, bloated top of it, the entire thing was twinging with pain and wrenching inside her.
Max almost let the spoon fall out of his mouth as he observed ‘the limit’. Her shirt was mostly unbuttoned on top, and her stomach was so big it pushed her boobs into the opening at the top of her shirt as she leaned over her belly. All Max could see was the deep cleavage pushing toward him, only barely trapped in by the black bra he could sort of see the edges of. Her black hair fell off her shoulders and hung around her chest and belly. This time his dick didn’t flick. It stood up like a soldier, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Hennessy,” he began carefully, swallowing. “Estas bien?” She said nothing, but beckoned him forward. He leaned a little closer. “Henny?” She beckoned him closer again, and he had to change the position of his chair, since he had quite a gut too, and it got in the way of leaning. When his face was right next to hers, he asked again, if she was okay. She moaned, and he started to suggest something that would help ease the pain, but she suddenly raised her head and kissed him.
Her lips landed on his half parted and warm. He was initially shocked, but quickly overcame it, grabbed her by the shoulder, and kissed back, pulling the blouse off. She reached up and grabbed his collar, yanking him closer to her, and he got the message and stood, placing one hand on the back of her chair and one hand on her shoulder as he shoved his tongue around in her mouth. His stomach and her stomach met and somewhat got between them as he attempted to straddle her. She started taking off her own shirt, and he momentarily released her and the chair to take off his own. Her breasts rested on the shelf of her belly and pursed. He stared, entranced, and Hennessy grabbed his hands, smirking, and pushed them into the wide sides of her bra, grabbing the back of neck to pull him forward.
He bit his lip as he lifted her breasts out of the bra and massaged them while she dragged her nails across his skin with one hand while leaving the other rubbing her poor belly. He kissed the pillowy top of her left tit as she sucked on the side of his neck, and he gasped with surprise as the hand that was rubbing her belly changed occupation and grabbed his package, rubbing her fingers around the tip of his penis through his pants. Her skirt was laced underneath her belly, and they kept breathlessly kissing as he struggled to untie the sinch and she wrestled with the glittering gold buckle of his belt.
Frustrated, he resorted to yanking off the skirt. Hennessy squealed and arched her back as he pulled violently on the waistband while still putting his tongue to work fighting hers for dominance.
The skirt was stubborn, so he yanked the waistband back and shoved his hand inside it to the hot, sticky fluid soaking her upper thighs. He dragged a finger through the dripping ejaculate to wet his fingertip before rubbing it softly against her clitoris. He felt her finch and weaken beneath him as she momentarily stopped messing with his pants’ buttons and moaned. He rubbed it back and forth, gradually increasing pressure as she clenched her fist and tried to kiss him back, but he didn’t bother pretending to ask her to really engage. He pulled his face away and watched the expression on hers as he worked another finger into the opening of her vagina and started drumming carefully on the inside wall of her pelvis, watching for which spots made her face twitch with pleasure. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, her fingers still laced in his hair, her mouth hanging open as he worked his way deeper inside her, his pinky finger bracing itself on her labia. She moaned and almost screamed as he shoved his hand deep inside her, and she jumped, shifting her chair.
Her leg was bouncing against the floor, and every muscle in her back was tensed to the point of trembling while he focussed hard and tried to build her up a little more before finishing her off, but he was dangerously close to accidentally ending it with one wrong hammer of his fingers.
She moaned his name in between unintelligible noises, gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut with tension as he finished it, shoving his finger against the wall of her vagina like pressing a “cum” button. She cried out and shuddered with her leg hovering tensely off the ground and her head back. Max kissed her lovingly and tucked her hair behind her ears as she recovered breath, words, and thoughts.
“Max Atwood, are you trying to apologize for something?” She joked, somewhat breathlessly. “Did you have something you wanted to admit?”
He shrugged. “No, I just like you.” He smiled and tossed her shirt to her.
“You’re sure you didn’t, for example, gamble away my money, or get me fired, or something? That was too good, like an apology fuck.”
He laughed. “If you don’t get dressed again you will be fired and I’ll owe you one. Isn’t it lunch time? Isn’t a busboy needed at lunch time or is it more of a clear your table yourself affair here?”
She smiled and shook her head. “I’m a server actually. Ky only bussed food on Friday because my friend came around and I wanted to see him. Funny how it works like that? If I hadn’t run off and left Ky to do my job I never would’ve had maybe the best orgasm of my life.”
Max frowned as he pulled an arm through his shirt. “Also about Friday,” he began, and Hennessy paused and looked up at him as she fixed the sinch of her skirt. “Why did you leave if you knew Ky would… y’know. Blow me.”
“Ah, brace your pride now, Maxy. I let him have you because I was also getting blown.”
“By whom?”
“Someone you don’t know.” She replied, buttoning her blouse. “But I’ll tell you now, I’m not exclusive unless we’re dating.”
“Yep. That’s clear.” He answered, slightly forcefully.
“Don’t go pissing me off now, Atwood. You literally got head from a stranger.”
“Fine, fine.” Hennessy finished buttoning her blouse and tucking it into her skirt silently. “Hey,” Max added, and Hennessy cut him a dangerous look, daring him to bring up the topic again. “Didn’t you say you hated me earlier? I thought I’d already pissed you off.” Hennessy relaxed and laughed.
“All things considered, that’s only one instance of me hating you compared to the hundreds of times a day it usually happens.” She shifted her clothes around, trying fruitlessly to hide the bloated belly that was testing her skirt and bulging through her blouse. She scooted to the edge of her chair, and Max watched, amused, as she rocked forward and back, trying to gather enough momentum to stand up.
“Use your thighs, not your back.” He advised, and Hennessy rolled her eyes, but successfully made it to standing with a triumphant expression, that was quickly erased by a groan, as her stomach rolled. She keeled forward, hugging it tightly.
“Standing up made it hurt again.” She whined, rubbing quick little circles on the right side, and cupping the wrenching underbelly. He got to his feet and sighed, poking out his gut with a frown.
“Same here. I don’t usually get that excited or even do that much moving when I’m like this, but then again, I’ve never been like this so long before.”
“Does that hurt?” Hennessy asked, momentarily raising her eyes to the man who had eaten well over twice as much as her and had been holding it all inside him for over a day.
“It hurt at first, of course, but once I calmed down it kind of went to sleep. My skin feels stretched, and my actual physical stomach aches just because it’s so overstuffed, but there’s practically no motion. I’m just unbalanced, have a kind of manageable belly ache and the tiring sensation of being full.” She nodded and went back to nursing her belly. “But now though,” he continued cautiously, looking down at it, but not touching it. “I feel like I shifted something. It moved a little, and now that manageable belly ache is getting a little less manageable.”
“What do you think that means?”
“No idea.” He replied, staring at his belly, and wrinkling his brow as, for the first time in days it made a noise, sort of a low creaking, like a giant rolling over in bed. She looked at it, then at him, and then back at it as he just stared down at it, leaning back against the table, with apprehension on his face.
“This might sound sadistic and crazy,” she began. “But do you want to try eating something?”
He slowly raised his eyes to hers. “Why… would that help?”
Hennessy shrugged and looked at the ground. “I was just thinking about what you said earlier, how the psychology of stuffing yourself is the whole impetus behind it. You have to outlast your own pain in order to get that really good feeling. Well, what if your stomach doesn’t know that you’re done eating, but rather than fight you, it would rather play dead? Wait you out? Like, if it denies you that good feeling, maybe you’ll give up and stop?”
“But I’m done eating, I’ve been done; I haven’t eaten in two days.”
Hennessy nodded. “That’s true. It was just a theory.” She didn’t meet his eyes for a while, and he didn’t say anything, so she chanced a glance back at him, and once again, he was staring at her. There was this viscerally enticing smile playing at his mouth as he snatched her gaze as soon as she raised it, and she couldn’t look away. Her heart pounded.
“What?” She looked herself up and down, then at him, finding nothing that would prompt this kind of stare. She frowned and crossed her arms. “What is it, Max?”
He smiled widely, and his white teeth shone, reminding Hennessy of just how little time she had with this perfect sculpture of a body. She uncrossed her arms and walked around the table as he followed her with his eyes, tracing her curves: her breasts, her stomach, her ass. He extended his arm to draw her in, and she smacked it away, preferring to perch on the edge of the table and use her legs to pull him in.
Him standing between her knees, looking down over her with this cynical, sexual smirk on his face would have been bad enough, if it weren’t for the low rumbling of both of their stomachs, the way the sun was starting to go down outside, the smell of porridge reminding her of how brilliantly stuffed she was, and the remnants of a killer orgasm that were making her wet the table.
“You sly, sly girl.” He murmured, shaking his head. She grabbed his collar and yanked his face nearer to hers so she could kiss him more adequately, tasting the inside of his cheek, pushing her lips against his, and kissing for all she had in her, eager to repay the favor he paid her earlier.
“What am I?” She gasped, as saliva fell from their mouths.
“A sly, naughty girl.” He replied, grinning before going back to her.
“Call me that again.” She panted, between biting his lip and biting her own.
“You’re a bad girl, Hennessy. A vile little thing.”
“Not so little any more, huh?” She replied, leaning back onto the table, and dragging Max down with her. Both their stomachs presented major obstacles, but as Max was determined to get it in, he did. She worked hard underneath him, propping herself up on her elbows, thrusting back at him every time he gruntingly shoved his hips forward. The table hit the wall and rocked it every time he thrust his dick deeper in her. She wanted to finish him this time, and to do that, she needed to get off this table. She grabbed his shirt and yanked him forward again to kiss him, but as they pulled away from each other, she slapped him and shoved him backwards. The combination of shock, pleasure, and general confusion successfully sent him staggering back, and she slunk off the table and dropped to her knees. He was rubbing his red cheek and watching, but his eyes went wide when he saw her begin to tie her hair up.
Precum dripped off of the tip of his dick as Hennessy flexed her cheeks, and then grabbed his hip and slid her lips over his member. He let out a desperately happy groan and closed his eyes as she worked tip to hips with just her tongue and her lips. She got faster, more violent, and dug her nails into his ass with her right hand while fondling his balls with her left.
She slowed down again, getting her cheeks to the right saturation and pressure to suck him off properly. He felt his heart pounding as she got ready, then suddenly, her cheeks went concave and he found himself halfway down her throat. The muscles of her esophagus instantly flexed and tried to push him back, but she took a deep breath through her nose and stopped the reflex. He had to squeak. His breath was stolen as she pulled him out and he was back on her tongue. He was panting as she went back for a double dip, and took him deeper this time, practically in range of sticking her tongue out and licking his balls, and her esophagus initially flexed, trying to reject the foreign object, but she didn’t gag, and he let out an agonized moan. She moved her tongue around his shaft, and as she pulled her head back and her tongue cupped the tip of his dick, he came.
She quickly pulled her mouth off, and he jizzed on her shirt and the floor, staggering backwards into the back of a low side table and perching on the edge of it, hand on his chest, panting hard, but grinning like an idiot.
“A little thank you and an apology for Friday all wrapped in one.” Hennessy said, wiping her mouth and getting to her feet. He laughed a little, and opened his arm again. This time she went and wrapped her arm around him as kissed her cheek.
“You’re a little angel and a little devil all in one.”
She smirked and pinched his gut. He winced, then smiled and kissed her again. They made out for a minute or two, before Hennessy’s stomach gurgled, and she pulled away.
“Ugh. I almost forgot I did this.” She muttered, looking down at her belly.
“Oh right,” Max began, placing a hand on the broad side of his own gut. “I was looking at you like that because I thought you were trying to subtly suggest that you stuff me again.”
Hennessy looked up at him with surprise, recalling how he had smiled at the words. “That would be crazy.” She said softly, swallowing hard as he looked at her with the sparkle same he’d had in his eye.
“Yes, it would be.” He whispered, his mouth barely an inch from hers.
The silent moment hung in the air.
“You want your chicken fried or baked?” Hennessy murmured, smirking as she pinched his gut again, and the smile spread on his face.
“Whatever’s faster.”
“Fried is faster,” she replied, pulling out of his arms and walking across the room, past the table and chairs, snatching the empty porridge pots and filling them with water in the kitchenette sink to soak. “It’s also fattier.”
“So much the better,” Max remarked, as he pulled out a chair and sank into it, leaning back against the wall with a smile that said satisfaction in many different ways. “I stay in shape by swimming, and the school doesn’t drain the pool until New Year's, cause I always need a couple swims after Christmas, if you know what I mean.”
Hennessy shook her head with disapproval, as she began mixing batter for the chicken. “You mean you stuff yourself every single Christmas?”
“Of course I do,” As Max watched her cook, the thought of his future wife, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen of his future home floated distant in the back of his mind. “What else would I do?”
“Oh I don’t know,” Hennessy said sarcastically. “Spend time with your family? Actually attend Mass? Have a good time?”
Max frowned as Hennessy tested the oil’s heat with a wooden spoon and nodded to herself. “Fuck my family, fuck going to Mass, and for your information, getting Christmas stuffed is the ultimate good time.”
“Oh is it? And why do you hate your family?” Hennessy asked snarkily as she dropped a chicken leg popping and hissing into the oil and went to batter another.
“It’s the best food, and it keeps coming all day. No one bothers me, cause everyone’s busy, and the day after everyone’s so hungover they sleep through my recovery.”
Hennessy nodded. “I guess. And your family?” Another chicken leg went loudly into the oil as the first one came out with a pair of tongs.
“Well, my mom left and married a pimp when I was 14, and my dad’s an asshole-”
“Your dad was sitting next to you at the dinner, right? The one who didn’t like me?”
“That’s the bitch. Greasy dude, eats like a bird, real classist cunt, didn’t like Ky either.”
“Don’t say ‘cunt’. And yes, I know who you mean. Sorry to hear about your mom though.”
“Eh, happens.” Hennessy stiffened at his blasé attitude, but brushed that aside as he looked away and she reached for the tongs, dropping in another piece of chicken as she took two out. “Hey, easy there. How many are you making?” Max commented, eyeing the growing stack of chicken parts hesitantly.
“Do you have any siblings?” Hennessy continued on, smiling as she battered another large piece of chicken.
“Just one. Older brother. He’s like 30, and got married and left our house as soon as he could. I’ve been basically an only child since I was 8.” He watched her take out the last piece of chicken, then move the pot full of oil off the stove and pause to rub her belly. He recalled the happy daydream of his future wife. “Do you want to get married, Henny?”
“Married? Max, I hardly know you.” She replied incredulously as she took the plate of chicken and set it down on the table beside him. “Now you don’t have to finish these, but I wasn’t sure how many you were going to eat, so I made a lot. I might eat one, but probably not, since I think my stomach is dying.”
“Not to me, just married in general.”
She brushed off her hands and rubbed her belly, staring absentmindedly at the stack of fried chicken pieces. “Oh, in that case, yeah. Eventually.”
Max nodded. “Hm. Cool.” She cocked her head with curiosity and started to say something, but Max sat up and straightened his polo. “Alrighty, let’s get going, shall we? I’ll feed myself to start, because I’m not sure how this is going to go.”
Hennessy nodded and gestured to the plate. “By all means, go ahead. They’re very hot.” Max dropped a steaming hot chicken leg and cursed.
“Yeah, they are.” He carefully tore it open and let the steam out for a few seconds, before biting into it voraciously. He chewed slowly, and before he swallowed, Hennessy watched a slightly apprehensive look cross his face, but he gulped down his first bite anyway, and they took a beat to see if there were any initial reactions from his midsection. All was quiet in that department. Hennessy’s stomach was the one making noise. She palmed it under the table as she watched him take a second, and then a third bite, his enthusiasm escalating. “This is just like Christmas. I eat all day, starting in the morning, then when I think I’m ready I get lunch, eat until I’m stuffed again, and then snack until dinner, when I eat until I’m dying.”
“I don’t want you to go too far though,” Hennessy warned, leaning forward to brush a breading crumb off of his lip.
“I won’t.” Max replied. “I’m only trying to wake my stomach up and get it to digest this shit.” He patted the puffed up top of his plump belly and belched. Hennessy rolled her eyes and laid her head on the table. She was starting to feel sick. She had never eaten this much before, and the sudden change was not being handled well by her gut, which left like it was tying itself in knots inside her lower belly as it tried to move the mass of porridge through her. She groaned a little, and rubbed it, trying to relieve the indigestion and work out some of the kinks in her underbelly. Max looked over at her pityingly as he bit into a juicy thigh.
“Anything happening?” Hennessy inquired as he chomped away blithely.
“Not at all. I’m full as fuck, but it’s still not moving. Guess I’ll just keep eating.”
“If this doesn’t work, you’re going to be stuck with even more bad food inside you not moving.”
Max waved her off and winked. “Bah, It’ll be fine. And besides, if I get to my breaking point, I have you to suck me off so good I vomit.”
Hennessy laughed a little and picked her head up. “Were you going to vomit?”
Max polished off the thigh. “Oh hell yes. I was glad I came when I did or you would’ve been covered in a different one of my bodily fluids.”
“That’s disgusting and I wish you had never told me that. I’m never blowing you again.”
Max shrugged and picked up a leg, but before he bit it, he put his hand to his belly and burped, long and low. They looked at each other. Nothing else happened. Max bit into the leg and chewed away, clearly thinking hard about something.
‘What’s on your mind, cap’n?” Hennessy asked, taking her hair down from the ponytail again as emphasis on the ‘never blowing you again’.
“I was just thinking about how different we are to other people. You’ll do anything, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only person like me.” Hennessy nodded and shoved the heel of her hand into the front of her stomach under the table, trying to subdue some bubbling gas in the center of her gut. “We just hit it off, y’know? I like you. I don’t know why I find it so easy to be myself around you, but once you get me talking, I’ll tell you almost anything. It’s crazy.”
“Uh-huh.” Hennessy grunted, only half paying attention. Her stomach hurt so badly her breath was coming short, and sweat was starting to wet the underarms of her shirt. She rubbed her belly and rocked back and forth, trying to breathe steadily. Max shook his head as he bit into his fourth chicken leg.
He laughed. “You’re so sick off of just a couple bowls of porridge.”
“It’s not funny. I’ve never done this. I feel like my stomach is twisting itself in knots.” She blew air out of her cheeks and hunched over, desperately rubbing the sick belly between her thighs. “Ooh I ate too much… I’m never doing this again. Fuck this.” Max chuckled and held out a thigh, offering her a bite. As the smell of it reached her nose, her cheeks filled with vomit, and she covered her mouth and shoved his hand away, gagging. He tried not to laugh, as she closed her eyes, pressed her hand over her lips, and retched as she swallowed, her body shivering. She cut him an angry look, and he just smirked and took a big bite of chicken, patting his enormous stomach with his greasy hand, and she gagged again.
“God, Max, stop it--” she was cut off by vomit tossing up her throat, her gut audibly churning now.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you don’t eat.” He remarked, watching her genuinely concernedly as he let steam out of a chicken breast. She looked at the dwindling plate of fried offerings.
“Smelling that shit isn’t helping me. UGH. I’m so done with being like this.” Suddenly she pushed back her chair, clutched her stomach with one hand, covered her mouth, and ran to the sink.
“Henny, wait.” With an awful heaving, she vomited the partially digested porridge into the esink. “Fuck, Hennessy that’s so gross!”
She shook her head as her body rocked with the force of her stomach contracting. “I don’t care-” porridge flew out of her mouth. “Max stop eating the chicken- '' She retched into the sink again, digging her fingers into the softening flesh of her stomach, and straining her back. “I think the-'' she was cut off by beige sludge running out of her mouth and into the sink. “I think the batter is spoiled!” Max froze. He quickly quieted a fearful part of his mind and looked at Hennessy, who was twisting her back in unnatural ways to get food out of her gut. It smelled awful--to be honest, it did smell like spoiled cream, but then again all vomit smelled like spoiled milk to some extent, so he couldn’t confirm the state of it with that fact.
“What makes you say that?”
She didn’t reply for a few seconds, as she had her head in the sink, her hands gripping the faucet and holding back her flowing hair. When she finally raised her face, pale, sallow, and sweaty, she wiped her mouth, closed her eyes, and sank down to the floor, back against the counter.
“I smelled it. KyJuan is a dipshit and sometimes leaves stuff out on the table-” she stopped her puke with the back of her hand. “But he just puts it back in the fridge afterwards, which I say not to do, but it still happens. When it’s bad it has a smell to it, but when I was making the porridge I had just taken it out so I didn’t smell it, and when I was making the frying batter I thought it was jizz or the chicken that was smelling so sharp.” She squeezed her deflated stomach and groaned. “But as you were eating I got a whiff, and it made me so remarkably sick that it reminded me of when KyJuan puts back spoiled cream, and then I put two and two together.”
Max looked down at the pile of bones. “Hennessy,” He began slowly, tensely. “Do you know what you just did to me?” She gagged from the floor, and shook her head apologetically.
“I know, I know, but I only just noticed it--and I wasn’t sure until I tasted it on the way up and recognized it for real.”
“So then this isn’t the first time it’s happened, and you still let me, me, in the state I’m in, eat like ten pieces of chicken.”
“I’m sorry! If I’d known earlier I wouldn’t have.” She got to her feet, and staggered to the door. Her stomach wasn’t empty, but had a sad, puffed out pout to it now, like a half squeezed wineskin. “I need to go to my room real quick, I’ll be right back.” And before Max could stop her, she was gone. He smelled one of the remaining few pieces of chicken. It smelled normal to him, but if he focused, he could tell there was something sharp, something off to it. He sat back disappointed. She really had done him in. He glanced at the pile of bones again and shoved the plate away.
“I ate so much of it…” He said to himself, placing both hands on his fully loaded stomach, that he now only had to wait on. He couldn’t do anything but wait for the aftermath, and half not wanting to, he looked down at his stretched out polo and slid it up to his chest to see the damage he’d done. The big, upset ball of flesh sat calmly enough on his thighs for now, but he could feel it wasn’t going to stay that way. Deep inside it, something upset was rumbling and wasn’t subsiding. Taking a deep breath to stay calm, he rubbed the stretched skin and gently poked the front, where it was slightly pinkish and pained him the most. There was absolutely no give. If his belly was going to move anything anywhere, it was going to have to make some room. He looked at the ruined sink with dread. There was days old food in his gut that had set like wet cement, and he didn’t love the thought of having to drag that out. He gave it a jiggle, except there was no jiggle. Waiting around for the expired rock in his aching belly to pass something was going to be the worst part. If he could only kick start the process…
He hated himself, even as he got up to get the cream. He struggled immensely to just stand, and had to use the table and the chairback to lift first his giant stomach, hard as rock, and fuller than he’d ever imagined he’d ever feel, then his legs and back. He had to take a moment to simply awe at the girth when he was leaning back. He’d become like a stuffed pig overnight. It hurt like a bitch as he stumbled over to the counter where the cartoon stood, smelling so ostentatiously sharp and sour he thought only an idiot could not know it was off.
He picked up the container, tried not to smell it, and put the spout to his lips. He could taste the spoiledness of it as he swallowed the first gulp, and it only made him want it more, somehow. He was glad Hennessy wasn’t there to see this moment of weakness. He panted as it dredged slowly down his throat and hit his stomach, flooding the only spare space it could make with thick, half curdled and disgustingly room temperature clots of milk. He was dredging it in gulps when his stomach panged. If there was a mental limit, there was a physical limit. He had just reached it.
The pain in his belly doubled him over. His vision wavered as stabs of pain surrounded his gut like fireworks. He fell to the floor, moaning, and dropped the carton. He could barely think, his stomach hurt so badly. He tried to call for Hennessy, but he found himself without a voice, all he could do was whimper, and that was too quiet. His gut felt like someone was trying to detonate C4 in it. Tears brimmed in his eyes, as he gripped it in both hands and lay on the floor, unable to move, for the weight of it pinning him down, the pain of it, and the weakness that had taken over his body.
“Hennessy…” He whispered. “Fuckin’ help me… my insides... are about... to bust open.” His stomach muscles cramped, unable to even offer a half decent attempt at moving the boulder inside him. He clutched his belly and groaned in agony. A bubble was working its way up from the aching pit of his gut towards his esophagus. He braced himself, and held the round sides of his belly as it rumbled and shaped the building ball of air, feeding it with curdled milk gas and acids swelling it inside his gut. It rose slowly, making his breath come short, and bloating up the top of his belly further, somehow. He knew if he let it fly he was going to vomit, and he didn’t want to vomit. So he clamped his mouth shut and steeled his nerves. It rose to his chest, and it wanted to blow out of him like an airhorn swiftly followed by a volcano, but he put his hand to his chest and forced it down. It shot back down into him with aggressive force, pushing its way down through his gut to his underbelly, where it shoved his food aside and puffed out in his intestines.
He cried out in pain, his hands rushing to cup the poor, abused pelvis. “Hennessy!” He screamed, rolling onto his side. “Hennessy!” It was only moments before he heard a door slam outside, and a few seconds later, she appeared at the door.
“Max? What’s going on in here--'' she walked around the table and gasped at the scene. “What the fuck hapepened? Are you alright?” She knelt beside him and he shook his head, holding his belly tightly, with his arms wrapped around it, too scared to rub it lest it really rupture, in too much pain not to hold it. She noticed the carton on it’s side, slowly leaking the last drops of cream onto the floor, and looked back at his pitiful face.
“You are literally the most idiotic , undisciplined, impulsive, stupid and unfortunately attractive guy I have ever met. If your face wasn’t so hot, I’d leave your dumbass here.” He whimpered, and slowly unwrapped his arms, revealing his huge, loudly rumbling belly. She let out a low whistle, and he moaned.
“I think I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying. You’re very sick to your stomach.” She placed a hand on his belly, and felt it’s cramping just underneath the tight skin. “You’re just way too full, and you’re full of bad stuff. Fried chicken, rich people party food, and spoiled cream was not the best concoction to stuff yourself with.” He moaned as his gut attempted to move food again, but it failed, as there was just no room to maneuver. Another few bubbles made their way down to his underbelly and filled his small intestine with more air. He winced and lightly rubbed his hand around on the painful spot. She glanced down at it, and gently cupped her hand around the bubble of gas between his hips. She gave it a light press, and he yelped loudly.
“Ah, problem spot, I see.” She rubbed away the pain she’d caused gingerly, and then patted his underbelly. “But it’s not food, is it?” She continued slyly. “Cause you don’t have any food passing through your intestines. That’s all stuck up here, hurting you, isn’t it.” He nodded as she patted the taught dome of his overfed stomach. “So this must be,” she placed the heel of her hand on the bottom of his belly, and he realized too late what was going to happen. “Gas.” She shoved her hand into his underbelly, and Max paled as the bubble burst both down and up, and he burped and farted simultaneously, causing Hennessy to burst into cackling laughter, and himself to go red. He didn’t think it was that funny, but she giggled until her eyes watered. “You should’ve seen your face! It’s so funny to me that you did this to yourself. I mean, why drink it, Maximus? Are you stupid or are you dumb?” She laughed out loud again, and he immediately replied.
“I’m not stupid!” She stopped and looked at him for a second, the joke dawned on him, and she burst out laughing again as he tried to correct it. “I’m not dumb either, I just-” he giggled in spite of himself. She laughed at his cute little giggle, then he laughed at his own embarrassment, and then they were both convulsing with laughter. “I can’t believe,” he managed to say, between guffaws. “I’m laughing,” She wiped her eyes and wheezed. “When I’m in so much pain!” He giggled, holding his belly as it shook with every fit of laughter that ran through him. Every time he tensed his abs they ached more, but he couldn’t stop until it began convulsing with stabbing pains just below his navel, and another sudden belch shot out of his mouth before he knew what was happening. It caught him mid laugh, and he half choked on it as it bellowed out. His eyes went wide with the surprise, and Hennessy pointed at his face and collapsed into more fits of laughter, as Max simply held his belly below his navel and released it.
“That’s fucking priceless,” she said, still sort of chuckling, and wiping away tears. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She looked down at the boy with a food monster in his belly. He looked back at her less mirthfully, but much better acclimated than a few laughs ago.
“I can’t either.” He patted the dense left side of his oversized abdomen and cringed.
She slid her hand around the top. “It’s like an oversized beach ball, it’s a hippo belly, a damn new planet.” She mused fascinatedly. “It’s so packed it feels like there’s no softness to you.” She stared, awed by the sheer mass of it, and he watched her drool over him affectionately. She kissed it, and it rumbled in response. She felt her pussy flex at the sight of him on his back with tears of pain and laughter in his eyes and his belly in the air, but she wouldn’t dare attempt to make any semblance of love to this man now. He would either burst or vomit, and she couldn’t figure which was worse. He rocked slowly from side to side, breathing hard and trying to hold the girth of his packed belly with his palms on either side. She placed a hand on the top, just above the navel where she knew it hurt most, and he groaned as she massaged it gently with her fingertips until a lingering fart worked out of his gut.
“I just want it to get out of me. I’ve never felt this bad, I can’t even make myself enjoy it; I just feel so fucking bad I can’t get it up.” He burped and the contraction of his stomach muscles made him wince gently caress the stuffed ball. Hennessy tried to massage him in a way that didn’t hurt, but everything she attempted either made him feel like vomiting, or hurt immensely.
“Maxy, I think you might just have to chuck it. This food’s not coming out of you any other way.”
“Absolutely not. It’s one thing for you to vomit some porridge from an hour ago, it’s another for me to try to drag up fossilized pot roast from two days ago. I’ll die, I swear on my mother’s marriage.”
“Fucking hell! You didn’t have to go that far.” She scowled, and pushed a little harder on that firm spot above his navel and he cursed and smacked her hands away, gently rubbing the reddish zenith of his belly ache. “Well, let’s try to get you to your feet.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Get up. I’m gonna put you to bed so you can sleep until your body hopefully starts processing.”
“I’m comfortable here, actually.” Hennessy got to her feet and put her hands on her hips, looking down at him and his enormous belly with an affectionate smirk.
“Nice try, fatboy.” She put out her hands, and Max reluctantly grabbed her wrists. She dragged him to a seated position, but he had to move his legs to the side and let his engorged gut rest on the floor and bend his posture forward. He burped sickly and rubbed the side, his cheeks taking on a greenish hue she recognized. She still could hardly believe the size of this motherfucker, sitting on the floor. If he was a pregnant horse before, what was he now? His cheeks puffed, and he clutched the giant belly with his hands, which wouldn’t help him, then hiccuped a few times and sighed tiredly.
“Get me up, Henny, I really wanna sleep this off.” She leaned down, her legs straddling his gut, and grabbed his arms at the elbow, while he did the same to hers.
“Count of three. One… two… three!” She dug in her heels and yanked upward, and at the same time, he tried to lift with his legs, and they succeeded in raising him about an inch off the ground, but the heft of his gigantic belly weighed him down more than either of them expected. Hennessy tripped, stumbled, and with a look of horror on both of their faces, tumbled on top of him.
“Fuck!” They cried simultaneously, Max instantly curling up.
Hennesy frantically rolled off onto the tile, already apologizing and reaching out to help him as he got onto his hands and knees, the inside of his stomach churning like a washing machine, his face pale. He panted and his back caved with the weight of his violently disturbed stomach.
“Oh god, oh fuck, Hennessy you just made it so much worse you bi--” He closed his eyes and retched as his stomach lurched. She instinctively scooted back. His gut heaved, he groaned in agony, tension stiffening all the way down each vertebrae in his back as the enormous weight in him moved, and then with a sickening gag, he finally puked. Hennessy covered her face but watched through her fingers as his gut wrenched and he nearly collapsed with the effort of kicking the food out of him: sour milk, old pot roast, watermelon. His gut remained big but Hennessy could see it softening. He covered the kitchen floor in vomit, then wiped his mouth, sat back, and held his huge belly, which rested slightly looser on his thighs. She could still hear the raging conflict within him as it gurgled with sickness, and he rubbed it slowly, listening to the bubbles and churns of a kickstarted digestion process.
“Wow.” Was all she could say.
He sniffled and wiped his mouth. “Fuck you.”
“It was an accident, genuinely. But that was… spectacular.” Max groaned, doubled over, and vomited again, more lazily, but his stomach got louder. Hennessy knew the pain had switched tracks to overwhelming nausea, and pitied him immensely. “It smells terrible in here, that’s probably not helping you. C’mon.” She hoisted him to his feet and helped him stagger to the couch, where she laid him down to nurse his loud belly, which was turning over food in his gut at a rapid rate. Now that it had room to actually work out these 48 hours of indulgence, it was wasting no time, and the violent sensation of food being wrestled down his digestive system was making him sicker.
“Oh, my fucking stomach, Hennessy. Oh… I’m sick.” He whined as he twisted side to side, stifling burps with an obnoxious moan that would normally have annoyed her, if her mouth wasn’t watering. The sounds of fighting indigestion distracted her, and the cutest man she’d ever met was laying on her couch nursing a belly the size of a washtub. He could barely breathe. Every once in a while he’d burp, and then he’d moan this pitiful little desperate moan that made her dripping wet. She excused herself to her bedroom to satisfy the panging in her vagina, and Max was left alone and desperate, rubbing his belly, as sick to his stomach as he had ever been, all while trapped on some girl’s apartment’s couch.
Just when he thought he would rather die than feel the agony in his gut any longer, the rapid, sickening momentum of his belly realigned itself and he braced against the couch, preparing for another onslaught of pain or puke. His guts rearranged and he groaned, pressing into its softened girth mournfully with his palm, and to his horror and surprise, the poorly processed mush his belly had worked so hard to create shot down, not up, and pushed through his intestines with a shockingly painful force of twisting and squeezing. He gasped and gripped the underside of his massive belly, trying to burp to help the pain.
“I can’t fucking do this.” He said softly to himself, finally pushing out a painful belch. A voice spoke out from behind the couch and startled him at his core.
“Can’t do what?” KyJuan’s soft but clear voice was unmistakable and simultaneously relieving and terrifying. The sound of the front door closing and locking, and keys landing on the table made Max’s heart pound. Ky walked slowly around his ruined kitchen dining room, saying nothing, slowly approaching the living room, where there was absolutely nothing Maximus could do.
Ky stood at the end of the couch and looked at him, his expression blank, indicating no reaction to the come on his dining chairs or the vomit on his kitchen floor, just assessment. He raised an eyebrow and let out a low whistle as his eyes ran up and down Max. A door slammed down the hall and he heard Hennessy’s rushed footsteps run out of her bedroom and into the kitchen.
“Ky--”
“What is he doing here?”
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be bussing lunch!”
“I don’t have a Vice Provost to hide. Start talking.”
It seemed as though the other shoe had finally dropped.
Chapter 7: Winter Make or Break, December 29
Summary:
Max shouldn't have eaten all that food, but he really shouldn't have drank all that spoiled milk. There's no way that'll do anything good to your gut, and it certainly doesn't. The messy leave behind of last chapter's fuckfest strains Hennessy and Ky's relationship.
Notes:
Max shits himself pretty graphically in this and I feel like it deserves a trigger warning somehow, idk. Just know that this symbol: // is the warning and this symbol: \\ is the ok.
Chapter Text
Max didn’t want to alarm anybody, that wasn’t his thing, but while Ky and Hennessy were arguing, he felt more and more sure that the most important thing in the room was him.
“Guys.” He said, while KyJuan put his finger in Hennessy’s face, yelling about honesty, while she pointed to the door and yelled back. “Guys.” KyJuan called her a chola and she smacked his hand out of her face, threatening to throw him out, as he was technically subletting the apartment from her.
“Guys!” He shouted, and both turned, faces furious. “I don’t want to cut the momentum to what would probably be a hilarious fight, but I think I’m gonna get a hernia.” He held his belly. “It’s digesting concrete, I swear.”
Both seemed to snap out of an angry haze, and Ky’s eyes went wide.
“Sorry, Max. I didn’t even think. What’s the problem?” Ky stepped forward and placed a hand against the roundness of Max’s quaking gut. Max raised an eyebrow.
“Is that a rhetorical question? I’m like, the size of a washing machine.”
“Alright, fair enough.” Ky replied, letting his hand fall to his side. “Certainly feels like a spin cycle in there.” Max nodded and burped.
“Fuckin’ hurts.”
Ky patted him very lightly, and his dick woke up to his touch. “I bet it does, dear. I bet it does.” Clearly jealous, Hennessy rolled her eyes.
“Just get your dinner and go. Ms. Johanna is strict about breaks.”
Ky gave her an incredulous look. “You want me to get my dinner outta that kitchen? You had better clean it until it shines like the top of the chrysler building. Or you.” He added, turning to Max. “I may not be a proprietor of this apartment, but I know what a violation of contract and a fine looks like. And I’m not living someplace where half a gallon of vomit was left on the floor for hours. Fucking disgusting. Both of you. And you know I’m down for some freaky shit, but that’s just horrible.”
“Well it kinda seems like this isn’t your speed, so why don’t you hurry up and get out of here.”
“You’re so transparent. Shamelessly kicking me out so you can torture him.” Max was watching the interaction contentedly and enjoying the stomach ache while he still could. One of them was bound to fuck him again; maybe jealously was what it would take to make KyJuan give up the battered, expired V-card that he clung to so tightly. The man had done anything but anal, including oral. It was hardly valid for him to keep calling himself a “virgin” due to a lack of penetration, and slightly aggravating.
“I’m not gonna torture him, I don’t actually care whether you stay or go. I just thought you liked having a job more than rubbing Max’s stomach, fuckin’ simp.”
“Don’t you dare, Hennessy Jalisco Marquillo Ithea de la Xenatha Holar. You’ll probably make him worse anyway, but don’t listen to me, you never do. Don’t let me walk in on any scene like this ever again. Not even safe in my own goddamn house. Fuck you, and you, Max. Fuck sake.” Ky snatched up his keys and left again, slamming the door so hard the upstairs neighbor stomped on the floor in annoyance.
“Well he’s damn dramatic.”
The quietness of the room in Ky’s wake was interrupted by a loud, sick gurgle from Max’s stomach. He winced obviously and looked at Hennessy, who rolled her eyes and sat down in front of him on the couch, legs either side of his gut, beginning to rub it in little circles. It didn’t feel like when Ky did it, with those feather soft touches that left ripples of pleasure as they slid over his skin, and those sharp digs into tight parts of his belly that softened indigestion and made the grumbles and groans coming from his swollen midsection feel like a massage. Still, Max closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch while Hennessy made an honest attempt to soothe him. A deep, reverberating gurgle emanated dangerously out of his gut.
“Ouh.” He clutched the lower belly. “Maybe lighten up.” Hennessy nodded earnestly, and moved her palms to his sides, squeezing the bloated, tight organ. Max sucked in a breath as a cramp formed in between her hands and he pushed her away and rubbed it himself. Embarrassment bloomed on her face as she got up and Max prodded and kneaded his bubbling gut while she went to clean the floor. Ky could probably do it right, but he’d likely fully ruined the prospect of him and Ky having another night.
“Hey Max,” Hennessy walked back into the living room, pausing to let rumbles pass before she spoke. “I have to go get some bleach powder and wood polish. If you gotta puke, do it on the tile. Pásalo bien.” Max waved his hand and wrapped his arms around his stomach, groaning. Hennessy leaned over and rubbed the exposed undergut tenderly. “Also maybe don’t rub it anymore. You’re really bubbly.”
//“It’s the curled milk you gave me.” Hennessy shrugged and left, swinging her keys and whistling as the door closed and locked. Max’s belly gurgled forcefully and he gently shook the fat mass. “Ouhh. I’m never eating again.” He felt churning in reaction to the movement and finally worked out a successful belch, just as his poor large intestine swelled, rolled, and contracted around a mass of now over-digested food inside it, and he felt the awful urge to fart. He didn’t want to, but he felt like if he didn’t his intestines would explode with the pressure in the swollen lower part of his digestive system. It was pushing against the clasp of his pants and applying strain where there should never be any. He had to give in to the awful, sour pain in his pelvis and ass. He took a deep breath, dug his fingers into the gut primed to blow, and forced out the fart with his eyes shut tightly.
Horror filled him, as the hot, wet substance suddenly dispersed in his underwear alerted him to what had just happened. He held his belly in disbelief, but since the onslaught had started, it couldn’t stop going. Shit was running out of him like hot lava and his belly was groaning with audible relief. His gut still gurgled with nausea as he struggled dizzily to his feet, rushing off the couch. The curdled milk was churning sickly as he lumbered dizzily to the bathroom, holding his belly in both hands. The half-bath was in the hallway leading to Hennessy and Ky’s rooms, but he took a step and was crippled with another staggering pang in his lower stomach as chicken, cheese, cream, and two day old broccoli sloughed its way into his intestines. The feeling was so bad he had to grab under his thighs and let the pain explode in his pants. Trying to walk with his legs pressed together and his hand desperately gripping his midsection, he couldn’t get far. His tummy was tossing caramel pudding over and over in his system and he hunched over trying to control it, but failed. His gut heaved and contracted, and he felt another glob of shit get squeezed out of him. He fell to his knees, holding his thigh as spoiled milk, old vegetables, and stale two day old watermelon finally was forced free of his sickened guts, unable to stop.
There were the runs, and then there was this hellish experience. His intestines twisted in knots inside him, as his gut shifted to the first thing he ate and started mashing deviled eggs and rich pastries to a pulp. “Ough--” he gasped, clutching his midsection as truffles resurfaced and shot up, pushing through his esophagus just as champagne fell through his tummy at a speed that warned of liquid. He clutched his gut while the food flung out of his mouth and down the curve of his belly, his pants sagging deeper as he emptied himself with groaning. He finally made it to the bathroom, and once inside took his clothing off and spent what felt like hours there, shitting like a newborn. Hennessy came back and asked if he was okay, but was repulsed enough by the smell and the sound of him vomiting and begging for it to stop, that she left and cleaned up the kitchen without going back to check on him again.
\\Two hours later, he tossed his clothes in the trash, showered down, and walked out, emaciated, pale, and bare from head to toe. The kitchen was once again spotless and there was a half-cooled cup of tea steeping on the counter, though Hennessy was nowhere to be seen. He sat down and inhaled the tea scent although he couldn’t make himself drink it. Instead, he let it warm his face and put some color back in it.
In a half hour or so, Hennessy returned from campus, dressed in her t-shirt and apron for serving. She smiled at naked Max and took off the apron, hanging it up by the door.
“You’re alive.” Her dark eyes had a slightly mischievous, mostly empathetic twinkle, and he felt relieved by the feeling of her hands on his cold skin as she hugged him from behind.
“Thanks for the tea.”
Hennessy furrowed her brow. “I didn’t make that. I thought you made it for yourself.” Max froze, and Hennessy stepped back from him, her eyes wide.
“Ky.”
Ky stepped back in the house from the back door, holding a Walgreens bag with most likely the leftovers of his dinner in it. He looked at the counter.
“Hey, who drank my--” He caught sight of Hennessy hugging Max, without a shred of clothing on him, and stomped his foot. “Guys!”
The two smiled sheepishly and looked at each other. “It’s not what you think.”
“We just talked about this!”
“We’re sorry. And I just got home anyway, so calm yourself.” Ky ground his teeth.
“Calm myself? Calm myself? I keep walking in on either a miasma of bodily fluid, naked people, or--and this takes the cake--a grown man shitting himself, and that’s all in one day . I have half a mind not to room with you Hennessy. It starts with skipping out on me while we work the banquet, it’s not cute anymore when you pass me off to your boy toy,” He gestured fiercely to Max, who was watching wide eyed as the normally pretty mellow man boiled over. “Yeah, cause don’t think I didn’t know that shit. And then you continue to fuck him after you ‘let me have him’; I don’t even want him, for your information, both of you, and then today, when I’ve just had probably the worst possibly day at work ever, I can’t even get away from people who don’t respect me with my own best friend. I expect a man who let me suck his dick without mentioning that he was fucking my roommate--thought that was interesting of you, Max--not to care about me, but you, Hennessy? This stings.”
She started to say something, but he put up his hand, poured out his tea and put the mug in the sink, and left the apartment, not looking at either of them.
She sucked her teeth sheepishly. “Well--”
“Don’t say he’s damn dramatic.”
“Wasn’t going to.” She smacked the side of his head and he glared at her. “What are you gonna do?” Hennessy rinsed out the mug and leaned against the edge of the sink wearily.
“Apologize, of course. He does this sometimes. He’ll be back to normal soon.” She bit her lip and looked at the floor.
“You don’t seem sure.”
“What’s it to you? Your concern should be where you’re going to get clothes.”
He smiled timidly. “Could I borrow…”
Hennessy sighed and pushed off the sink, gesturing for him to follow her to her bedroom. “You’re lucky I was getting ready to transition. Got all my guy clothes out at the moment.” Slightly shocked, Max stood up and followed her to the room, where bins and cardboard boxes were pulled out from under the bed. She sat down and swung her feet, gesturing to the array. “Take your pick.”
They played dress up for a while, then Max finally pulled off Hennessy’s Beatles hoodie and tossed it in the box, tired. Hennessy watched him with slightly heavy eyelids, admiring the muscles on his abdomen accentuated by how empty he was. He walked over and put his hands in her hair, kissing her forehead.
“In a couple days all this hair is gonna be gone.” She touched the locks at the side of her face.
“Well let me make sure I pull on it all I can before then.”
She shuffled back onto the bed and Max put in her and she moaned. While they fucked and praised each other, they both looked up at the sound of the door across the hallway shutting firmly.
“I didn’t even hear him come in.” Hennessy whispered, looking at her bedroom door nervously.
“Me either.” Max muttered. “Finish quick, then.” He thrust it in her and she groaned, finally coming with a tremor of the legs.
Spooning that night, Hennessy kept glancing at the faint light coming in under her door from the light leaving Ky’s door across the hall. She really didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. Really didn’t. But he’d had people over, she’d put up with all kinds of interruptions to her life because of his, hell, who did he sublet the apartment from because his parents didn’t agree with his lifestyle? Sure, it did help her pay the rent when she’d been struggling, but it remained that she’d helped him. Annoyed, she went to sleep.
Chapter 8: Three’s a Crowd and Seven’s a Party, April 8, ‘22
Summary:
Max's stomach is sick, but not too sick for a five person orgy (F/M/M/M/M). Especially not when his own favorite ex-stuffing Twitch streamer is in the mix, and Hennessy is trying almost as hard is he is to inspire jealousy.
Notes:
Hennessy is male this chapter, but the mention of female sex organs might trigger dysphoria for some, so Trigger Warning!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Hennessy--” Max grabbed Hennessy’s arm and pulled him back from the door, wrapping a hand around his waist. “Wait a second.” He grit his teeth as it cramped, hunching over and leaning on the wall. Hennessy turned around to help support him.
“I told you shouldn’t have drank all that disgusting shit.”
“Don’t fucking lecture me. You ate as just as much--ah--” He hung his head wearily as his stomach groaned quietly. “I fucked myself up.”
Hennessy bit his tongue this time, but watched Max sympathetically as he tried his best to manage the ache. His eating habits were getting insane. Granted, he wouldn’t do it if it weren’t insane, as it was the extremity that intrigued him and got him off, but the way it left him was hard to watch. His stomach contracted with a groan and he burped slowly.
Yesterday he'd shotgunned melted ice cream. As a mildly lactose intolerant person, the sexiness of the stomach ache quickly wore off and he found himself curled up in his bathtub in a cold sweat, unable to take enough tylenol to kill the cramps. Max always went too far and ended up in more pain than he could fuck to, because the precipice of his limit was his favorite place. Technically, it was Hennessy’s job to keep him from stepping over the line, but Max was a grown ass man. If Hennessy said stop, and he said no, then that was that, and there was nothing more to do. He wasn’t gonna fight him; they weren’t dating and Max had made that clear. He woke up today and nothing had changed except some of the nausea had gone away, but the Spring Break rager he was hosting at his mom’s house that night had about two hundred people going, so he had no choice but to buck the hell up.
Hennessy waited until Max could walk again, then led him out into the hallway muddled with blunt smoke and vapor between the sweaty bodies of awkward, pent up Ivy League students making out or spacing out to the back room.
It was the natural place for the host, sort of secluded, but with clear view of the front door, like the back room of a nightclub where the owner and their posse might stay. Max’s posse was Hennessy first, then KyJuan, then a guy named Seven (ostensibly), then Jules.
He fell into the couch holding his stomach and closed his eyes as KyJuan exhaled a cloud of heavy smoke, looking at him with reproof. No comments were made however, as Ky smoked, Hennessy sipped a beer, unwilling to get wasted while Max was recovering (sort of), and Seven and Jules flirted clumsily. Both were too high to be coherent, but effectively communicated the desire to eat each other’s faces. Max groaned and massaged his gut, painedly furrowing his brow and tensing up.
“What’d he eat?” Ky asked absently, lighting the bowl.
“Drank a carton of Ben and Jerry’s.” Hennessy replied equally flatly, looking out of the doorway with it’s beaded curtain pulled back at the low pink and yellow glow of the party, lazily draping his hand over Max’s leg. Ky snorted and shook his head, unsympathetic. When Max chose Hennessy, he’d lost all interest and concern for his idiotic dietary decisions. That was how Ky worked.
The music built to a bass drop as someone did a keg stand in the cheap laser lights while a group of expensive looking students cheered and glittered with sweat and smudging highlight. Hennessy took another drink and reached up to Max’s stomach, massaging the gurgling organ while watching the incoherent scene like a silent movie, letting Ky’s second hand smoke take him to a dreamy state where the feeling of Max’s stomach burbling and the glass bottle in his hand were the only real sensations.
A few minutes passed while Jules and Seven made out obscenely on the end of the other couch, Jules clambering over Seven like a goat on the side of a cliff, tongue half missing it’s destination. Max finally sighed and slouched forward, resting his elbows on his knees and reaching for a can of beer. Hennessy gently touched his back and while he cracked open a cold one.
“No.”
Max ignored him, sipping the can and grimacing while swallowing, pressing his hand against his middle and setting it back on the coffee table. He sighed, draping his arm over his groaning waist as he laid back to sleep. Hennessy shook his head and went back to vegging, grateful to be at least near Max, as was asked over less and less frequently, Max returning to his usual habits of circling partners like hedge fund stocks. Hennessy knew he was more of a constant than any of the others, but not being more important than they were was a particular annoyance. He fantasized and strategized about pleasing Max in the positions the other partners had failed to, confident in his ability to perform where they couldn’t, until the front door opened.
“Who the hell’s an hour late?” He said, watching the door of Max’s mother’s house swing back to admit a couple. Ky glanced over for merit, but saw nothing at all through those red eyes, Hennessy knew. The couple stepped inside with their hands intertwined, closed the door behind them, and then said something to each other while they looked around. One was much taller, so they stooped, and their form was caught in the light of a floor lamp. Hennessy leaned forward.
“Who in the hell is that?” He said slightly tensely, admiring the face of a male presenting student as they said something in the shorter person’s ear, and the smirk that followed the comment was only worsened by the way the light played beautifully off their cheekbones. The smaller person tucked their face behind their partner’s and said something back, which made the tall one laugh with a perfectly flattering crinkle of the eye and twist of the jaw. Max noticed the silence of Hennessy lusting and raised his head from the back of the couch to see who earned the honor. He flinched at the sight, but Hennessy hardly noted it.
“That guy’s not available.”
“So? Can I not marvel at the sculpture of masculinity that is that body and face? It’s painful, honestly, that I’m not in that mouth.”
“Didn’t always look like that.” Max’s voice took on a hint of annoyance unexpected at such a mundane occurrence, but Hennessy’s eyes roamed the build of the man as he straightened up and greeted someone, his partner sticking close by, but talking to someone else. Hennessy onced the partner over and smiled to himself. He was hotter than they were; taller, more toned, and more imposing in every atom. He drew his eyes back to the boyfriend and Max watched with aggravation. “Knock it off. Those two are married.”
“So were your parents.”
Max rolled his eyes and rubbed his belly, moaning slightly as another cramp ran through it, forcing his abdomen to jerk. Hennessy rubbed it empathetically and Max smiled with jealous satisfaction. “You know that guy has a kid, right?” Hennessy shrugged. “And he’s got a whole host of fucking mental illnesses.”
“Alright, Max, I didn’t say I wanted to settle down and buy a split foyer with the man, I can just appreciate a pair of pecs that defined.” Max closed his fist and shoved it into his inner thigh to keep from puking and Hennessy turned to massage him pityingly.
“He used to be fat, too.” Max muttered, sighing with relief as Hennessy’s fingers worked into his sick digestive system and helped massage out some of the kinks.
“And you are…?”
“Soft. I’m on the edge of the BMI for my height, not fat.”
“Gotcha. I’m gonna keep that in mind when you’re eating cake for breakfast.”
“Not a bad idea, but already done. That kid beat me to it.” Hennessy looked over his shoulder at the guy again, he was joking around with a couple other students by the pong table, looking out over the crowd comfortably. Knowing it would entice him, Max shared the revelations in bite sizes. “He used to stream video games. Snapped one day and ate a whole cake on camera.” He winced as Hennessy worked hard at a cramp in his side without letting up for comfort’s sake. “Then it became a kind of cam job. Ate himself into the hospital twice. Once for intestinal removal, once for a heart attack.”
“That’s depressing.”
“Well, he is depressed.”
“I bet he’d have to be to get to that point.”
“Yeah, it was kind of sad to watch to be honest, but c’mon how do you not click on a thumbnail like that? The man’s a picture of innocent sex appeal.” Hennessy concurred, furrowing his brow as Max’s stomach groaned beneath his hands, roiling as he stroked it hard, making Max’s breath hitch.
“So he survived, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah. Little wifey whipped him into shape pretty well; she’s alright, although I think I’d be a better wife just by virtue of being me.”
Finally interested, KyJuan raised his head and looked out the back room doorway to the topic of their study and recognized him, apparently, from the way he lowered the weed unwittingly.
“I saw that couple in the gym for the first time during track training a couple months ago.” He said thoughtfully. “He was a regular with or without her. He really wanted to get over the… issue, cause he made impressive progress. The power of a good bulk and cut technique.” They all watched a few moments longer. “Look at those arms. I need to get out more.” He turned back to the table and began shuffling playing cards anxiously, trying to avoid staring. Max and Hennessy made eye contact, and then flicked their gazes to KyJuan, who eventually raised his with reluctance.
“Dibs on the big one.” Hennessy smiled.
“Go ahead, it won’t work.” Ky replied, producing the right card for the magic trick he was showing to no one and then reshuffling the deck disinterestedly.
“You of little faith.”
He snapped the deck together forcefully. “The dude’s straight.”
Hennessy slipped their hand down Max’s belly and brushed his lower stomach, making the man exhale shakily. Getting up and sitting on Max’s knees, he straddled his waist and held it while he massaged his thumbs into the gurgling softness over the pelvis. Max sighed carefully, leaning his head back and balling his fists while Hennessy did what he wanted to do himself harder than he would’ve.
Henny rubbed the sick stomach with a critical amount of pressure, avoiding the places that would make him nauseous, paying heightened attention to places that made him wince, as those were muscle cramps. The stomach rumbled, and Max suddenly burped, flexing his stomach as he did so, then releasing it into Hennessy’s palm, where the soft, warm fat cupped the outstretched fingers.
“Ohh...hh...hh…” He moaned tensely, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling on the couch cushions.
“Relax.” Hennessy murmured, feeling burbling as the belly distended against his rigid palm, sinking it further into where the turnover of lactose made the bubbles. He was shocked to feel the force of the indigestion, and the unexpected pressure made Max belch again, then run his hand over Hennessy’s over his stomach.
“Kiss me.” He murmured, and Hennessy leaned over and obeyed, slipping his hands up to the soft part of Max’s waist, then moved his lips down his neck to his collar, while one hand slipped under his shirt and pulled it up, exposing the roiling belly. Max poked it outward, and he kissed it, cupping the gurgling flesh.
“You’re fat, Max. Just accept it.”
“At the moment. Once this is done killing my colon I’ll swim a little. I’ll be back.”
“Do you have to?” Hennessy whined, hugging him gently and rubbing his hand up and down the bubbling side of Max’s bloated belly.
“For now, yes. I’m softer than I was a few months ago though, so satisfy your weight gain boner with that.”
Hennessy knew Max blamed him for the way his biceps were a little less defined and his abs were slightly more hidden, but it was for love. Where the guy who just arrived at the party was gaining muscle, Max was beginning to hide it, ice cream and four course meals noticeably adding to his mass.
He groaned as Hennessy pushed into his stomach, back to that depth where the gurgling pressed right up against his hand, and he massaged it conscientiously, not trying to make the man puke, just to caress the real acme of the ache. He watched the emotion play across Max’s face as he lay against the couch cushions, slightly buzzed by a milieu of substances and intermetent flashing of colored lights as people walked around outside the doorway. Hennessy’s efforts forced out a sickly burp, and Max focussed his eyes on an object in the party, watching it until his dick got hard. Hennessy turned around, jealous. Max was watching that guy.
“You want him too, don’t you, you hypocritical whore.”
Max mocked him in response. “Can I not marvel at the specimen of masculinity that is Li?”
“You know his name!”
Max snorted cockily. “‘Course I know his name. This is my school.”
Hennessy pinched him and got up. “You don’t even go here.” He walked out of the back room while Ky and Max watched, either mildly interested to see how this would go, or pinned to the couch by a pride that dominated jealousy.
He’d met a lot of people who said they were straight and then failed to play it cool against Hennessy’s relentless flirting before finally admitting they wanted him to top them like a cowboy. His binder was wrapped tight, his haircut was fresh, and his toned arms swung loosely under the oversized t-shirt. He stuck one hand in the pocket of his sweats and picked up two bottles of Jack Daniels, cracking one open with his teeth, and handing the other still sealed to Li, who took it.
“Hi.” Li said, looking at the bottle in his hand and back at the person who gave it to him. “Thanks, I guess.” He leaned down and put it on the edge of a table before smashing his fist against it and popping off the metal cap, then took a swig and tossed his hair. “Who’re you?”
“Just another dime-a-dozen gay wallflower.” Hennessy leaned on a side table and calmly watched a game of beer pong start. Li looked at the commotion as a whole and swirled the bottle in his hand.
“Wallflower?”
He glanced up. “Why, do I not fit the bill?” Pretended to tuck his hair shyly behind his ear, he pantomimed bashfulness. Li gave indifferent side-eye and only chuckled.
“No, you were sitting on the Vice Provost’s lap a minute ago, so I was just wondering what constitutes ‘wallflower’ to you.”
“Alright,” Hennessy conceded, crossing his arms and drinking. “You got the important part, right?”
Li screwed his face up a little. “The fact that you’re gay?”
“For you.”
“Yeah, I heard you.” He put his bottle in his left hand and lifted it to cheers with Hennessy for seemingly no reason, but his gold wedding ring glinted in the light from a laser on the floor, and Hennessy got the message and sighed as he cheersed him. They both drank to good health or whatever, and Hennessy smacked his lips and crossed his legs, glancing at the floor before staring right at him to make their eyes meet.
“See, the thing is though, Li,” Li stiffened at the use of his name before he gave it and squared his shoulders. “When I tell a straight man I’m gay for them, they say ‘I’m straight’, not ‘I’m married’.” A slightly mortified look crossed Li’s face, then he turned away, taking a drink.
“Doesn’t change anything for you, does it though.”
“Well that’s hard to say.” Hennessy continued, leaning forward to inspect the wedding band and letting his breath gently touch the back of his hand. “How long have you been married?”
“A year, next month.”
“Would you say it was a happy year?”
Li frowned deeply. “Best year of my life.” He walked away. Hennessy returned to the back room and sat down in the compressed couch next to Max with a sigh. KyJuan looked up with a smirk.
“Looks like it went well.”
Hennessy scowled. “Whatever. You were wrong though, he’s not straight.” Max bolted upright and KyJuan choked, both staring at him in shock. Hennessy scowled and rolled his eyes, laying back into the couch as he took a swig of Jack Daniels and looked at Seven and Jules, the former of whom was stroking the other’s head in their lap. “Glad to know you two are both that eager for him.”
“No, well I mean, yeah, but he can’t be gay.” KyJuan said, turning to Jules. “Jules, you saw him when his wife went into labor. He seem gay to you?”
Jules raised their head a little, to Seven’s dismay. “Who? Like, Hiraya’s man?” Ky nodded. Jules settled back down into Seven’s lap, and the latter went back to stroking her hair intently. “No. He had a couple hook-ups with my friend in high school, a real Straight White Girl™. He was in a threesome with her and no one I know ever saw him act even kinda romantic with a guy.”
“A threesome, you say?” Max interjected slyly. Hennessy shoved his shoulder and he chuckled, a slightly smug expression on his face as he rubbed his belly and sat back against the cushions carefully.
“Still though,” Hennessy insisted. “He’s at least bi.” KyJuan shook his head, going back to his cards. “I’m serious,” Ky ignored him. Max sighed, finally offering the benefit of the doubt.
“What did he say that makes you so sure that he’s not straight, but not sure that he’s gay?”
“I told him I was gay for him and he said ‘I’m married’.”
Max looked confused. “That doesn’t help your argument.”
“He didn’t say ‘I’m straight’.” It took a moment for the difference to dawn, then both other men widened their eyes and looked up at Hennessy, who grinned slowly. “And when I mentioned the difference to him he said it doesn’t change anything for me.” Max let out a low whistle and made eye contact with Ky, for the first time in a while. The latter was still anxiously cutting the card deck in his hands as he and Max shared a thought, and then looked back at Hennessy.
“I think you may well have uncovered a secret bisexual, in the bleak and unforgiving archeological site of a hetersosexual marriage no less, Henny.”
Hennessy bowed magnanimously. “Applause is welcomed, and hardly resistable.” Ky nodded his acknowledgement and looked out at the party, where Li had joined into the pong game against his wife.
“So Jules or someone was saying something about a threesome…”
“Well if you join, it’d be a foursome.” Hennessy replied, stroking Max’s stomach in concession to sympathy. The man still wasn’t comfortable, clenching his jaw and letting the gurgles tear through him freely, too distracted now to care for himself.
“He’d never do it without his wife.” Max grunted, shifting his hips forward with an exhausted sigh. The three of them looked at each other.
“She’s definitely into men.” Ky commented softly, as if he wasn’t suggesting what he was suggesting. “But who would even ask something like that, and how?”
“Max is into women.” Hennessy added mildly, patting his waist affectionately. “She wouldn’t be bored. And her hubby would still be there.” A look crossed Ky’s face as he clearly imagined it, but the crazy registered. Hennessy shrugged sadly. “It would be insane. Probably pretty good though.” A moment of silence passed, then Max pushed Hennessy’s hand off his belly and put his hands on his knees.
“Alright. Seems like I’m the only one who’ll do this.” He pushed himself to his feet, faltered a little as his belly groaned in protest to moving, wrenching itself with upset pains. He clutched it and burped, then stood up to his full 6’3 and squared his shoulders, letting the shirt fall back down. Max had a lot of game, but his appearance certainly helped his continued success in hooking up with people. Hennessy got horny just watching him leave with the intent to get some action.
“How’d’you think that’s gonna go?” He said nervously, watching KyJuan deal a hand for Trash and play a round of it by himself.
“We’ll find out.” Was the mellow reply, and Hennessy watched Jules sleep for an amount of time he didn’t measure, until when sleepy and almost certainly high from KyJuan, the light from the party darkened in the shadowed doorway. They both looked up, and lo and behold, Max was returning with Li and Hiraya right behind. Hennessy ran his hand through his hair, nervously avoiding Li’s gaze, which looked right at him, he could tell.
“It’s good to formally meet each other. This is KyJuan White and Hennessy Marquillo. Boys, greet Li Jie and Hiraya Manado.”
Hennessy finally looked up and smiled weakly, locking eyes with Li, and then meeting Hiraya’s slightly wary gaze which swept up and down his frame, comparing their looks. Hennessy loved a little healthy competition, and stood up, shaking Li’s hand and smiling at his wife. Ky also stood, giving Li a light hug, and Hiraya a nice wave.
All four of the men stood around and looked at each other, enticed, attraction unguarded and readily accepted--at least on the part of the three who had strategized the meeting. Li glanced over at Hiraya, who out of everyone, was staring at KyJuan. Oddly, Ky looked the least like her husband; short and dark, broad shouldered and aerodynamic, painted nails and lined up fade, but Hiraya looked him up and down, taking in the natural self-assuredness, the politeness, and the freakiness that lived right under Ky’s platonicly flirty demeanor with slight arousal, and Hennessy’s eyebrows raised. Li and Max stared right at each other, ready to go, Max enthused beyond levels Hennessy had yet seen. Both men towered over the others, but they seemed more interested in each other than the bottoms.
“Alright,” Max said slowly, not taking his eyes from where they were comfortably staring. “For those of us who’ve done this before, take it easy. For those of us who haven’t, well, have fun.”
Li glanced around, his eyes lingering on Hennessy a moment longer. “Everyone who needs to be is on the pill, right?”
Hiraya nodded, still staring at Ky, and Hennessy shook his head. “I have plan B, though.”
“Cool.”
KyJuan walked over to the doorway and pulled the beaded curtain shut, blocking the sightline, but letting a little dispersed laser light through the tiny plastic beads. The room was slightly darker, and the sound of crowds was muffled by tinkling beads.
Seven and Jules sat on the far couch, one still laying in the other’s lap, tripping on acid and watching the scene play out as one stroked the other’s hair, and other than that, they didn’t move at all.
In a moment of unanimous concession, they all walked forward and started taking what they wanted to take and grabbing what they wanted to grab. In a loss of resolve, Hiraya went to her husband, biting his ear and rubbing his chest in a familiar way, while Ky lost to the longing he’d tried to kill and grabbed Max by the waist. Hennessy slid his hands around Max’s chest from behind, and the man himself snatched Li’s jeans and started unbuckling them, while to everyone’s shock and for Hiraya, slight horror, Li did the same to him with equal or greater ferocity, maintaining eye contact while the three bottoms curled and pulled off clothing around them.
-----Perspective Switch to Max Atwood-----
Li Jie was a bisexual. Incredible, really, how he managed to get sexier every time they interacted. Max couldn’t believe he was gonna rail the guy whose porn he used to be obsessed with, but judging by how Li looked back at him, he might end up being the one getting bodied. Ky spoke up from his right and snapped him out of the trance.
“This is a day late and a dollar short, but it’d be nice if someone had lube.”
Hiraya turned to her purse on the table and fished around. “I have coconut oil for my lips. It works, we’ve used it before.”
“Excellent, thank you.” Hennessy pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it on the couch, and Max couldn’t help his double take. Knowing that Hennessy’s current presentation was male didn’t make those double ds any easier to ignore when he was this turned on. To distract himself from what would quickly make Hennessy uncomfortable, he turned to Hiraya, who was halfway to holding Li’s hand. Likely insecure, it seemed. He wondered if she knew Li was bisexual before now.
“I don’t want to single you out,” Max began, slightly coy. “But you seem unsure.” Hiraya held out the coconut oil to Ky, who thanked her with comically characteristic dry politeness, and took his pants off.
“I’m fine.” She replied, and glanced repeatedly at Ky’s jockstrap. “I’ve just never done this before. And I don’t know who I’m supposed to approach.” Max pulled off his shirt and replied cheerfully.
“Anyone you want! If they’re here, they’re as fair game as anyone else, except safe words of course. Which, as a point of order, what is it?”
A voice from the adjacent couch made everyone’s heads turn, and they all jumped with the realization that Jules and Seven were still here. Well, Jules was physically here, but probably in the astral plane doing cartwheels with puppies in her head. Seven was still stroking her hair.
“Seven.”
“You want us to use your name?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yup.”
“Alright.” He turned back to the group, now generally shirtless, although Li was still dressed. Hiraya had surprisingly taken her jeans off but not her shirt, and was staring at Ky’s package, while the man himself was staring back at her with slightly amused intrigue. “From the top?”
At the drop of a pin, Hiraya walked up to Ky, who smiled as she pushed him to the floor, and Max grabbed Li’s jaw and kissed him hard. Hennessy went to Hiraya, clearly slightly jealous, but also attracted to the heterosexuality of fucking a woman, as between the three bottoms, they seemed to find Hiraya ‘most likely to dominate’. Hennessy got on his back, rubbing his clit on Hiraya’s, while Ky knelt behind her, closing his eyes and probably imagining her as a man while he lubed his cock.
None of that mattered to Max as he pulled Li’s shirt off and panted as he endlessly kissed those soft lips. Li grabbed his package and Max went weak, sinking to the floor as Li undid his belt and kept kissing him. Max pulled him to the floor too and they hurriedly undressed, unable take long breaks from the joy of kissing one another. Li’s hand searched across the floor for the coconut oil that rolled out of Ky’s hand as Ky slipped it in Li's wife and exclaimed with pleasure.
He hardly batted an eye and closed his fingers around the jar, swiping his hand through it to collect dripping, waxy oil. Grunting, Max grabbed Li and forced his forearms on the table, getting behind him into a cowboy position. Li resisted and turned back around, though sinking back against the wooden edge as Max straddled him and pushed his face into his neck.
“Ohh--” Max cried weakly as Li took his hand and wrapped it around his cock, servilley coating it in coconut oil. He jammed one leg under Li’s, and then the other, to hold the man on his thighs while he got his cock pumped and Li stared down at his light brown pupils. He watched the shoulder length hair fall over Li's face as he closed his eyes, raised himself up a little, and slid Max inside him.
Euphoric, Max sat up and grabbed the man's side, his breath completely stolen. Li grimaced a moment, grabbed his own hip, then shuddered with a blissful agony. Max grabbed Li's cock with an unlubed hand.
“Seven!” He shouted immediately, and Max let him go, stroking his hand down Li’s thigh as he lifted his hips. Li slammed his back against the coffee table and groaned, letting Max toss him into the edge of it with a rhythmic clatter, the playing cards falling to the ground, and the still lightly smoldering weed bowl rocking side to side. Max pushed up into almost a sitting position, holding Li’s waist, and feeling his balls tumble against his lower stomach every time he thrust his hips and made the man weakly cry out, Li's muscular arms slowly sliding up Max’s body to his throat as he leaned forward to be chest to chest with him and moaned.
Max grunted tremulously as his dick thrust deeper in him, shaking with ecstacy. He discerned that Li was calling his name in those weak ass moans, and the realization made his chest clench. Li cupped his throat and kissed him hard, still taking thrusts in the ass, until his abs clenched, he briefly pulled away from Max’s face, and Max grinned sadistically as the man came with a weak groan, and he didn’t stop.
“Ah-- ah-- ah--” Li grunted, holding Max while he endured the pounding as well as he could until he grit his teeth and curled his hand in a fist on Max’s chest. “Come already--ah--” Max tried to, humping Li against the table while the exhausted man just tried to stay sitting up, eyes starting to water. “S-seve--”
“Ungh! ” Max’s stomach cramped and it sent him to climax, pushing his vision to stars as the weed smoke and idyllic scene enveloped the orgasm. He fell onto his back while Li got off shakily, flopping to the floor beside him. Both men only had a moment to catch their breath before Hennessy got on top of Li, red in the face from their own orgasm, and pointedly not getting on Max, who was promptly topped by Hiraya.
“Hello, beautiful.” Max muttered, as the fire eyed woman didn’t even greet him before she put her pussy on him and he groaned with pleasure. She was in some kind of animalistic mode, and her box was tight and liquid at the same time somehow, both muscular and so saturated Max might be fucking the coconut oil jar for all he knew. Friction was achieved by his hook and her kegel, which ground against her g-spot and wrenched his cock ruthlessly as she threw it back on him, looking over at her husband just once, before Max grabbed her face and made out with it, sliding his hands across her bare body, grabbing her tits and touching the slightly loose fat on her waist from having a baby six months ago.
He heard a slam and they both looked up; Li had lifted Hennessy and slammed him down onto the magazines and remaining playing cards, knocking the beer can to the ground as Hennessy lay across the table, gasping for air as Li fucked him hard, rocking the table legs and inhaling marijuana fumes. Jealous, Max reached for Ky, who was curled up in a ball after coming in Hiraya, taking a breather from this woman’s unbelievable box, and pulled his friend closer.
Fiending for reciprocity, he looked at Hiraya, who was working him to the edge of his statute of limitation for busting without pushing him over it, seemingly for her own, and solely her own pleasure. It didn’t matter though, Max was used to not coming, he was just jealous of Li and wanted to both get back at Hennessy and be validated.
“Jealous?” He asked, and Hiraya opened her eyes and looked down at him coldly. Glancing back over her shoulder at how Li was railing Hennessy against the cards, she shook her head.
“He would never do that to me.”
“Doesn’t that eat you up inside?”
She shook her head again. “He wouldn’t because he respects me too much, but he’ll throw that bitch around like a doll. I don’t care.” Then she closed her eyes and went back to grinding. Max made out with Ky aggressively, trying to find the self assurance that Hiraya had in either him or Ky, but Ky’s affection was one of complete personal peace, curse the man. Someone be jealous of him.
“Fuck me, Ky.”
“Then let me get under you.”
Grimacing in pain, Max sat up and let Hiraya slide down his lap a little, cracking open her eyes slightly as he repositioned underneath her to let Ky slide under him, and then the man lubed up his cock, took a calming breath, and centered Max’s hovering hips over top of his waist.
“Get ready.” Was the only cautionary comment he got before Ky sat him down right over his penis, slipping all eight inches at once. Max’s eyes shot open and he blew his load in Hiraya instantly.
“Fuck! ”
Ky didn’t let him off, though, and kept grinding on Max’s ass from beneath him, half, he suspected, out of revenge. He shut his eyes and grabbed his stomach, grimacing and shouting in agony as Ky raised him in the air with a moment of relief, before he came slamming down on that cock again, and Hiraya kept rubbing her vagina over his wasted penis, steel gazed. Shaking, he clutched his chest and begged neither of them in particular.
Having left Hennessy in a heap on the floor, Li came back over to shut him up, grabbing his face and making out with him, his hand rubbing circles on Max’s gurgling stomach while Max pulled him in and kissed him desperately, finishing again, weaker, in the man’s wife as the relentless fucking made him start to cry.
“S-seven--” He gasped, as Hiraya pulled off of him and wrapped her arms around her husband from the side, and Ky let him get off, finishing himself watching Li and Hiraya embrace and make out. Recovering in an instant, Ky got up and hugged Li from behind, wrapping his arms around the man’s strong chest and deviously sticking it in him without a word. Li exclaimed with surprise elation, and Hiraya shivered at the sound, rubbing her clitoris against him while he got fucked in the ass by Ky’s rod.
Laying half dead on the floor, Max tried to get his brain back from the liquefied state he’d had it shaken into, breathing hard and holding his stomach still. The warmth of another body made his eyes open and focus weakly on Hennessy, who had crawled over to him and was staring him down from above, seemingly deliberating the feasibility of getting anything real out of him.
“No, Hennessy I can’t--” But he pulled his binder off and the double ds bounced free over his face. “Oh fuck.” Hennessy smiled as he looked down at the erection, and kept that smirk on his face while he sat down on Max’s lap and made him cry out in pain. “Sev--” The boobs touched his face and he hardened more, pulsating with desire. He hadn’t seen these in weeks, maybe months, since Hennessy went back to being a guy, but the man apparently deemed this last round a worthy cause for getting them out, and Max was not about to waste that. He moaned as he motorboated, and Hennessy looked down at him almost more satisfied by how madly Max wanted to get fucked than the actual fucking, grabbing his hair while he shook his chest back and forth.
Finally, with more of a squeak than a moan, Max and Hennessy came pitifully slowly, and then collapsed to the floor, right alongside the other three as the trio finished.
A few moments of breathy silence passed while the five heart rates slowly lowered, and the ability to think, move, or talk finally came back to the room. Curious, Max raised his head and looked at Seven, who had moved away from Jules, who was still dead in the water on her acid trip.
“You good, fam?”
“Yup.” Seven replied flatly. “I got one out.”
“Cool.” Max laid his head back down and his stomach gurgled loudly. All four of the others looked over at him curiously. “Sorry guys. Got a little indigestion from yesterday.”
“He drank ice cream.” Hennessy added, for context, putting back on the binder. Max winced and rubbed the painful bloat. Glancing thoughtlessly over to his left for a moment, he jumped and did a double take. He was still being watched.
“Sir, you picked the wrong group of people to have a loud stomach with.” Ky commented, half smiling. Max looked down at himself.
“No, wait, it really hurts though guys I’m not just--”
But he was smiling, and so were they.
Notes:
I just couldn't leave Li Jie in the previous work, so guess who's joining this party?
Chapter 9: Hello?, May 14
Summary:
Hennessy's body has been acting strange lately. Wonder what that's about.
Notes:
Same warning as last chapter. Male person, female genitals, can trigger dysphoria, so be careful.
Chapter Text
“Hello?” Hennessy held the phone to his ear and listened to the crackle and silence on the other end, suddenly wondering why he’d even called.
“Hello, who is this?” He had to say something now that he’d called. He briefly considered making a monotone speech about extended car warranties, but if he was right, he might be calling this number a lot over the next handful of months.
“Hi. This is Hennessy, I think we met--well, no. We definitely met over spring break.”
There was a moment of thought before he got a response. “Oh! Okay, I remember you. Why are you calling me?” Well, that question wasn’t exactly inviting, but what else could he do? He didn’t know who else to call. He bit his pride and took a congenial tone.
“I was wondering if you were available to talk sometime?”
“I might be, what did you want to talk about?”
Did it matter? Bitch. “Oh, you know, this and that. Stuff.” He managed to reply tensely.
“Stuff? What do you mean?”
“You know what? Don’t even worry about it. Sorry to bother you. Bye.”
“Hang on. Is this what I think it is?”
Hennessy hesitated. “...yes?”
“Okay. I’m gonna be home at five tonight, does that work for you?”
Against what he would’ve liked to say, he felt his heart soar. “Five works.”
“I’ll send you my address.”
Hennessy got the address and after thanks and leaves were exchanged and taken and he hung up, he looked down at his fat belly. While he was worried, he did have to admit that sitting here eating a box of oreos and drinking half a gallon of milk was nice enough to forget about it. He rubbed his stomach and stuck his fingers inside his underwear to play with his clit.
“Mmmh.” He closed his eyes and slouched down on the sofa, rubbing back and forth over the area with his fingers, feeling an abundance of stimulation touch back on the pad of his ring finger. He had to go to Honors Orgo 257, but this was better. He ate an oreo and massaged his labia tiredly until his phone buzzed. Some kid in his presentation group asked if he could bring his master notes sheet to class. Alright, fine, he’d go. He brushed his hands and stomach free of oreo dust, downed the last of the milk, and stood up. Hoisting his jeans up to his hips, he found his waist too wide to fit them, so he switched them out of a pair of gym shorts and a hoodie to try and hide that jiggly belly. He slid into the class just as the professor started talking and spent most of it impatiently waiting to get back to the second box of oreos and a bottle of apple juice, but as the hour ended, someone with grown out purple dip dye in their hair came up to him.
“I was thinking we might as well work on the final project now, since we’re all here today.” Hennessy kept himself from growling, but still firmly declined. “It’s due at the end of the week, and we still have a lot to do though,” they insisted, “did you bring the note sheet?”
“No. That’s why we can’t meet today.”
“It’s okay,” they returned tersely. “I have a picture of it, I just thought it would be better to have the hard copy to reference, if not though, it’s fine.”
“Fantastic,” Hennessy growled. “So you’re just gonna be a pain, huh?”
“‘S long as it gets the project done.”
Sitting in the library with dip dye, some girl with a desk manager badge still on her shirt, either pretending to have forgotten it or embarrassingly committed to checking people in, and some kid, he crossed his arms and rocked the chair onto it’s back legs a bit. The faster they got the project done, the faster he could get back to eating oreos and self-massaging.
“So for the future developments of our micro-ecosystem simulation, I was thinking…” Hennessy felt his stomach twist and stopped rocking the chair, letting the legs slam down to the tile hard. “Sorry, did you have a better idea?” Dip dye asked, looking up at the noise, and Hennessy shook his head quickly, looking nervous and rubbing his stomach inside the hoodie’s pocket. “Okay, good. So, I saw this similar experiment someone did online…” Hennessy’s stomach gurgled loudly. Dip dye glanced over and frowned, but kept talking.
Hennessy pushed in on the firm bugle and felt it hard with indigestion. Ah, fuck. He ignored the group and massaged his belly gently, trying to work out the discomfort with the tips of his fingers. It burbled and he burped.
“Hennessy,” Dip dye said finally. “Can you focus for a second please? This is our final.”
“I am focussed. Keep talking.” He put the back of hand to his mouth and burped a bit again, as dip dye scowled. The oreos were not being nice, and his gut suddenly felt two times fuller, tightening itself around oreo mash to get it to go down his digestive system. It felt awful, and he grunted a bit and put his elbow on the table, pushing on his stomach. Maybe all that milk wasn’t a good idea. He shifted side to side in his seat to try to relieve his insides from the cramping, both queasy and hot.
The fat paunch over the band of his boxers was bubbling incessantly, making every single position a fresh kind of uncomfortable as more sections of his belly got a taste of bubbles and bloating. Fuck, he had to go.
“Hey, I really meant it when I said I can’t meet today. I have to go somewhere.”
“Oh yeah? Where?” Dip dye answered, putting their chin in their hand. “Or do you just want us to do the work for you?”
“Hey,” Hennessy snapped. “I have the master note sheet, and I bought the editing software, and it’s also my premise. Fuck off. I just have to go.”
Dip dye didn’t back down. “I just find it funny that as soon as it gets down to the wire and we have to put our work in, you wanna be flaky.”
“I’m not being flaky, I have a prior engagement.” His belly roiled as a kind of confirmation.
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re one insufferable bastard, ain’t cha?”
“And you’re a liar.” Dip dye put both elbows in the table and leaned forward. “If you can’t prove that you have somewhere to be, I’ll notate the entire time you’re gone and turn the timesheet in.”
“Suck. My. Cock. I’m leaving.” Hennessy hugged his belly, picked up his backpack, and stood. The jelly in his belly quaked and let loose a loud gurgle. The queasiness was so much worse standing. Hennessy couldn’t resist belching and palming his stomach as he waddled out of the library, hoping that the organs sore inside his waistband would wait until they were home to cause mayhem. Dip dye said something derogatory after him, but Hennessy didn’t have the time of day. The oreos and milk were pushing out of his belly and down his digestive tract disgustingly quickly, and his gym shorts were getting tight. The doors of the library were only just ten feet away when a librarian came over.
“Hennessy Marquillo?”
Hennessy grimaced, but turned with a weak smile. “Yes?”
“You ordered a book about the encyclopedic history of drag, and I just got it in today. I was so excited when I saw it, I thought ‘When I see that Hennessy I’m going to tell them their book is here’.”
“Oh, Ms. Wing that’s so nice of you. Can I pick it up later though? I kind of have a thing to do.”
“It’ll only take a second, Henny dear, don’t you worry.”
“Ms. W--” But she was too far away to hear. Hennessy just held his belly and took deep breaths, feeling more bloated and warm as the seconds went by and Miss Wing searched the delivery shelf. He forgot he’d even asked for this book, and now of course, when a box oreos was about to punch out of him, he had to stand and wait for it. He shifted awkwardly by the door while Miss Wing checked it out and walked it over. She put it in his backpack for him while he cupped his lower stomach, and smiled, looking as if she were about to start a conversation. “Thank you Miss Wing! I really have to go though, so I’ll talk to you later. Have a good day!” Hennessy burst out the door and walked quickly toward the coed dorms, feeling increasing amounts of bubbling and sloshing inside his stomach as he speed walked, trying not to swivel his hips much because the bubbling was getting lower and lower.
He stuck a hand under his hoodie and felt the warm fat and gurgling belly with his palm, suddenly very soft and very liquidy. Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go. He thought as he crossed the quad and swiped his card on the door. About to pull it open, he remembered the cupcake incident, and instead pressed the handicap button, holding his churning stomach carefully from the entry to the elevator. He knew he was walking weirdly, but the way his belly sloshing meant that if he didn’t watch it he’d lose his lunch, and not out of his mouth.
The elevator ride could not have been longer, it seemed every floor had someone getting on and off. He was sweating by the time he was able to exit, gut loudly groaning and both hands holding the big bulge carefully. He cradled it to his room and walked right into the bathroom, stripping off his gym shorts and boxers, slamming the bathroom door closed.
It was a long series of unfortunate events, a lot of burping, but surprisingly, mostly relief. It wasn’t like food poisoning where the pain was constant, whether hungry or full. After he got it out, he felt better, and could eat dinner.
After pizza he got in the car and put in the address he was sent. It was in an apartment complex close enough to school to walk to, but genuinely, Hennessy was exhausted these days. There was no such thing as enough sleep, and his body didn’t seem to function properly in lots of different ways. Since his friends had blamed alcohol, he had too. But it had gotten kind of extreme, and led him to a very particular thought, especially six weeks removed from spring break.
After finding visitor parking and taking a few deep breaths, Hennessy straightened his t-shirt and shorts and got out of the car. Max still had a crush on this girl, and felt slightly guilty about setting up a personal meeting with her knowing this, but as he always said, you miss every shot you don’t take.
The apartment complex had a central staircase and he passed a group of kids running down as he went up and knocked on number 502. A few seconds of rustling and walking passed, then the door swung open and Hennessy stepped back and looked up at Li Jie Manado.
“Hello?” He said, looking down at Hennessy confusedly. The recognition was clear, but there wasn’t much beyond that. It hurt a little, knowing that the orgy which was for Hennessy a real hallmark in their college experience and transformative for their sex life, for others was just a good time they had, no attachments to it of extra value.
“Hi.” Damn, he forgot how badly he had a crush on Li Jie.
“Can I help you?” Was the obvious next question.
“Yeah, uh, I called--”
“I got it, Li!” Came the call from behind him, and they both turned and looked at Hiraya coming down the hallway towards the front door, fixing her shirt. “Sorry, had to feed somebody. Hennessy is here for me, go away Li.” She said amicably, pulling him back from the door. He walked backward, but didn’t leave, looking from Hennessy to Hiraya and back with obvious objection.
“Uh, wait.”
Hiraya turned. “Hennessy and I are going to have a discussion, that’s it. You can’t be here though, so please go away.” Li raised an eyebrow. “Seryoso pumunta, ayos lang, batang. We’re just gonna sit in the living room, but you can’t listen, so scram. I’ll tell you when you can come back.”
“Fine.” He walked back into their bedroom and closed the door without further inquiry. Hiraya frowned, but turned back to Hennesy.
“Come in, sorry it’s kind of messy.”
Hennessy shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me.”
Hiraya plopped down at one end of the couch with a slightly fatigued sigh and pulled her leg onto her lap, gesturing for Hennessy to sit at the other end, which he did. They looked at one another quietly for a moment, then Hiraya raised an eyebrow.
“So…”
“I feel like you already know.”
“You still gotta say it,” She said, shifting and tossing a pair of scrubs from the arm of the couch to a basket on the floor. “In case I’m wrong, and in case you haven't said it out loud yet.” She gestured back to Hennessy and waited.
“Okay,” He cleared his throat and looked at the floor. “I think I’m pregnant.”
Hiraya nodded. “That’s what I thought. Did you take a test?” Hennessy blinked a few times. That seemed obvious, why hadn’t he just taken a test? Hiraya must have seen it on his face, because she waved her hand. “It’s fine, I have some here. But what makes you think you’re pregnant?”
“I uh, missed a period. I gained weight, I’m irritable, horny, generally hazy. Can’t hold my food, can’t sleep, super hungry, back aches, headaches…”
“Okay, that all sounds like pregnancy, but it could possibly be related to some underlying problem or an illness. Is there anything else you’re thinking it could be?”
Hennessy looked around uncomfortably. “I asked KyJuan and he said it could be alcoholism.”
“Are you an alcoholic?” She put the question plainly and without any judgement, but it still stung.
“No.” Hennessy looked at her. “I drink and he doesn’t approve of it.”
“When you thought you might be pregnant, did you keep drinking?”
“No.” Hennessy snapped. “That’s why he said that; he claims this is withdrawal.”
“Since you think it’s not, you may as well clear up any possibilities and take a test. Do you know how they work?”
“Instructions are pretty clear. Pee on the stick.”
“Pee on the stick. But it’s important that you lay it down and leave it, don’t keep touching it and picking it up, you might mess up the reading.” Henessy nodded, and Hiraya got up, showed him to the bathroom, handed him a test, and shut the door.
Inside, holding the pink wand and staring into the mirror, Hennessy had about eight regrets at once. Not one to wallow, he pulled his shorts down and peed on it, put it on the floor, and waited. He looked at his phone for most of the fifteen minutes, just biding the time. It didn’t feel like he was waiting for an answer of such huge magnitude, it just felt like waiting in line, or on hold at the DMV. When the alarm went off on his phone, he picked up the wand and didn’t even look at it, just taking it out to the living room, where Hiraya was on the couch with her baby on her knees, making faces at her and holding her hands. Hennessy stopped and stared for a while, suddenly struck by the fact that he didn’t recognize that interaction. It wasn’t something he could see himself doing, something entirely foreign. Hiraya looked up.
“You read it?” Hennessy shook his head. “Do you want me to?” He nodded, walking forward and handing it over immediately, and he avoided looking at the baby while he sat back down on the other end of the couch. Keeping it out of the child’s reach, Hiraya leaned back and held the stick up to the light, then put it down on the side table on a tissue. She repositioned her kid and looked at Hennessy, who wasn’t sure why he wasn’t panicked. He just wanted to know.
“So,” Hiraya said plainly. “You are pregnant.”
Hennessy blinked. What? That wasn’t what she was supposed to say. “I am?”
“Yeah, when was your last period?”
Hennessy looked down at himself. Pregnant? “‘Bout two months ago.”
“So you’re between one and two months pregnant. Still within the laws here for an abortion if you wanted one. When was your last sexual encounter?”
“I sucked Max’s dick a few weeks ago, hooked up with this girl I met on Tinder last month, and my ex and I had a fling a week before that, I think.”
“So we don’t really count oral or female encounters; is your ex female or male, sexually?”
“F-female.”
“So, when was your last sexual experience with someone who had the ability to impregnate you?”
“Gosh, duh. Um, I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry, I initially phrased the question wrong. If you do recall it, you should reach out to whoever was there.”
“I think… I think that was spring break, the last time I had sex with a, uh, how you say ‘proper penis possessing person’.”
Hiraya laughed. “Okay, so if that was the most recent time, you should reach out to…” She froze.
“What?” Hennessy asked, looking at her catatonic expression. Hiraya started to clench her jaw and held her baby very still, despite the girl fussing a bit. Hennessy furrowed his brow with confusion. “What is it?”
“Hennessy,” Hiraya said very carefully, leveling a stare at him that cut through his defensive tone like a sword. “You need to go get a paternity test ASAP.” Hennessy stared, and the baby babbled. It dawned. Anguished, he put his hand to his mouth, suddenly wishing to be nowhere near her, not in her house, not in the same country, regretting the phone call with the weight of a thousand bad decisions.
“Oh my god.” He whispered shakily. Hiraya stared at him, no emotion in particular clear on her face, but the way her eyes travelled up and down his body was not even assessing, it was the look of someone sizing him up, as if she wanted to see if she could kill him. “I am so sorry. I’ll go. I’m so sorry.” He stood up and grabbed his keys, still in a state of shock.
“Wait.” Hiraya said softly. She turned toward the hallway and shouted down. “Li Jie?”
He called back from their bedroom. “Yeah?”
“I need to talk to you for a minute, hon.” Her tone was light, but there was a bite behind the clear intonation that made him open their bedroom door slowly, walking down the hallway and standing in the opening, looking warily at the expression on Hennessy’s face and the aura of coldness surrounding Hiraya. What had Hennessy done… Should’ve stayed at home. Should’ve stayed at home and drank. Li didn’t even speak, he just looked at Hiraya with a troubled and curious look on his face, leaning on the wall. The baby whined and Hiraya held her tighter, leveling her mood with a lot of effort.
“Li Jie,” She said slowly. “Think back six weeks from now to spring break, the Vice Provost’s party.” Li was even more skeptical now, looking at how tightly Hiraya was holding the baby, then back at her face, on the verge of being scared.
“What is it, Hiraya?”
“Think very carefully. Did you come in Hennessy?”
“Did I what?”
“No Li Jie, this is not the time for rhetorical fucking questions. Think through every single emission you had, complete or not. Did you come in Hennessy?”
He looked baffledly back at her and blinked a little, taking his eyes to the floor. “Uh, I don’t know, possibly; precame probably, I can’t really remem--”
Hiraya stood up and put the baby down rushedly. “No! Look in my eyes and answer me, did you come in her or not, Li Jie? Look at me!”
He looked at Hiraya with alarm as the baby started to squirm. “Hiraya, what’s wrong with you? You’re freaking her out.” He walked over to the couch to pick the baby up and Hiraya grabbed his arm. He tried to pull her off of him, angry, but she dug in her nails and stared at his face with so much rage he flinched away.
“I need to know if you have another child with another woman.”
Hennessy put his keys down hard. “Stop calling me that. I let it go the first time because you’re clearly upset, but I’m not a woman, don’t call me one.”
Hiraya whirled around. “You were a woman before you wanted to get into an orgy with me and my husband, what changed your mind?”
Li looked at her, horrified. “Hiraya, stop.” He turned to Hennessy. “Hennessy, please go.”
“Why are you so calm, Li?” Hiraya shouted. “She took a baby from you!”
“Stop calling him that!”
“Stop calling me that!”
Li and Hennessy looked at one another with surprise, and Hiraya looked between them, let out a despairing cry, and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door. Hennessy started to speak, but Li cut him off.
“Just get out.” The baby burst into tears. Hennessy slowly picked up his car keys and opened the door, looking back over his shoulder woefully. Five minutes out, he pulled over on the side of the road and bawled his eyes out, hugging his waist and banging his head against the steering wheel.
I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant with a married man’s child, what the actual fuck, I’m gonna kill myself, I gotta get rid of this thing. I can’t take this shit, it’s been ten minutes and I can’t take this shit, I can’t even parent properly, and I can’t be a guy now, I hate my life, I hate my--
Someone knocked on the window and he jumped a foot in the air, knocking his arms against the door and console, looking around. The person on the other side of the window flinched back too, but seeing Hennessy was just startled, walked back up, and indicated for him to put the window down. Obediently, he wound down the window crank, still crying.
“Hello?” He looked up at them.
“You good?” His lip quivered, and they nodded knowingly. “Yeah, you ain’t look good. On your way to FDR Millennial?” He nodded. “Where from?” How to answer that question? What titled relationship did he actually have with anyone in that apartment?
“F-From my baby daddy’s house.”
The person’s eyes went wide. “Wasn’t expecting that.” They muttered. “You look very… male.” Hennessy wiped his hands on his pants and coughed. “Can I drive you home?” The person asked, and Hennessy looked up.
“Um, I-- I think…yeah. Thank you.”
They nodded. “No problem. My name’s Serene.”
“Hennessy.”
“You got a badass name, Hennessy.” He got out of the car and swapped sides as Serene took his place and put their seatbelt on. “You use ‘him’ right, Hennessy?”
“‘Lately.” They nodded and smiled at him.
“Gotcha. You can use ‘she’ for me. If you don’t mind me asking, are you in a safe relationship?”
Hennessy took a long, much needed breath to calm himself down and slunk down in the seat. “I’m not in a relationship at all, my baby daddy is married, and that’s why I’m crying. I fought with his wife.”
“Ho-ly shit.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“Sorry, so sorry.” Serene said quickly, waiting for Hennessy to buckle up. “I ain’t judging, I feel bad for you.” He sighed and draped his arm across his stomach, looking out the window as gentle rain started to fall. “Was it just a stress thing? Emotions boil over?”
“No,” Hennessy sighed. “I didn’t know he was the father until today, and his wife didn’t take that information well.”
“Are you okay?” She looked him up and down. “Did y’all argue or y’all physically fight?”
“Argue.” Hennessy snapped. “If she tried to fight me I’d punt that bitch like a football.”
“Period. So what y’all argue about?”
Hennessy wiped his face and watched the road go by. “Don’t know. She was actually arguing with him, cause he said couldn’t remember if he’d actually ejaculated in me, but she kept calling me ‘she’, and then he defended me and I got in the argument.” He blinked. “...He defended me…” Serene glanced over.
“So you and your baby daddy are on good terms, then?”
“Not sure,” Hennessy replied, shaking his head and turning forward. “We don’t know each other well. We were all in an orgy.”
Serene practically choked and looked over at Hennessy with bafflement. “You are one alternative character.” She went around a roundabout and took the exit towards FDR Millennial. “So you come in, tell him he’s the dad, she’s jealous ‘cause he blew his load in someone else and starts disrespecting you, you and your man--sorry, baby daddy--get into it with the wife, you storm out--I’m guessing--and now what? What are you gonna do when you get to school?” Hennessy shrugged tiredly. “You finna jump her?”
“What? No.”
“Just asking.” Serene mumbled, turning into the parking lot by the coed dorms. “So you’re okay with letting her have him? Gonna be a single parent, joint custody, take him to court, demand child support, what?”
“First of all,” Hennessy growled. “I don’t think I would have to demand child support from him. And second of all, I don’t even know if I’m keeping it.”
“What’re you leaning toward?”
“Dunno. Don’t wanna decide right now.” He sighed tiredly and looked down at himself while Serene parked. There was a baby growing at that very second. How weird. He couldn’t feel it. How could he even be sure it was there? “Hey, can I ask you a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Can you drive me somewhere else?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“It’s like five minutes away. You know where the school senate lives?”
Her eyebrows raised. “Shoo... yeah I know, but why do you want to go there? ‘S rich bitch county.”
“I know someone. I need to talk to him.”
Driving through the old growth trees and perfect pavement of Max’s neighborhood as wealthy school beneficiaries and senate members walked small dogs or jogged, Hennessy thought back to his childhood. The Marquillo family immigrated to America before he was at the age to remember it; all he could really recall was constantly being in someone’s arms, as if he would disappear if they let go of him for even a second. Things were pretty okay. They lived in a neighborhood with a lot of other immigrants; he had a lot of friends, so did his parents. He played piano and was smart. When some government uniforms came to their homes, everyone talked about how smart Hennessy was, and how Hennessy would go to college and contribute to society oh-so-very-well, and how Hennessy already worked in a veterinary office, and so was already a tax paying citizen. He got to stay because he got into FDR Millennial, an Ivy League scientific institution. He wrote letters to his family but not so much to his friends, as any of them who also got to stay and go to college were busy and out of his reach. He wondered what Max’s childhood was like, if it had any similarities whatsoever.
“You can just drop me off and leave my car in the school parking lot. He’ll drive me home.”
Serene wished him well, encouraged him to fight for what he wanted, then drove off. Hennessy stood outside of the house where it all began; the Provost’s 67th birthday, the post-pandemic banquet. So many words he had never expected to say when talking about his own college experience.
The first time he called Max he didn’t pick up. He didn’t answer the text either. He did pick up on the eighth try, not terribly pleased, but neither was Hennessy.
“¿Qué diablos quieres, ese?” What the hell do you want, man?
“Dije que necesito hablar contigo, puta, ¿por qué no contestaste tu teléfono?” I said I need to talk to you, bitch, why didn’t you answer your phone?
“Estaba jodidamente dormido, ¿qué podría ser tan urgente?” I was fucking asleep, what could be so urgent?
“Necesitamos hablar cara a cara. Déjame entrar.” We need to talk face to face. Let me in.
“¿Estás en mi casa? No estoy en mi casa.” You’re at my house? I’m not at my house.
“Pues, ¿dónde diablos estás entonces?” Well, where the hell are you then?
“Cerca.” Close. He replied, and Hennessy heard him yawn and stretch. “Hay un lago en el bosque que tiene una cabaña de pescadores al lado. Te estoy enviando direcciones. Facetime conmigo para no ser secuestrado, bombón.” There’s a lake in the woods that has a fisherman’s cabin next to it. I’m sending you directions. Facetime me so you don't get abducted, hottie.
When finally made it to the location Max was talking about annoyed, sweaty, and even more tired. He stomped through the treeline and out into a small, muddy clearing with a little green lake. Insects buzzed across it and wet trees closed it in on all sides but for the little path he walked out of, and sure enough there was a tiny wooden cabin on the bank of the lake, with Max standing on it’s porch, hand raised.
He looked slightly at home, wearing a flannel, tight jeans because that’s Max, and hardy, muddy Timberlands. His hair was all ruffled, though it had been buzzed by Hennessy not long ago so there wasn’t a whole lot to ruffle. He smiled at him and waited.
“What’s this face?”
“I’m mad.”
“What for? Come inside, there’s hella mosquitoes out here and you’re sweet.” It was easy to not resist as Max pulled him inside, firmly shut the door behind them, and then kept hold of his hand, standing chest to chest with him, eyes sleepy, but interested. Hennessy kissed him gently, and Max started to walk them back toward a low cot, placing Hennessy onto it, but he put out one hand.
“Max, we really have to talk.” Max looked up and ran his hand over his buzzcut, the cut of his jawline from underneath making Hennessy bite his lip a bit.
“Can we talk after?”
“No, you take too long.”
“Then just sex for sex’s sake.”
“No. That’ll also take too long. Please, sit down and listen to me, I’m tired and I don’t know what to do and I came here so you can tell me what the hell is right.” Max pulled out a chair from a wooden desk and sat down adjacent to him, crossing his arms and ankles. Hennessy didn’t have the energy to deliberate and hesitate. “I’m pregnant.” Max raised his eyebrows.
“Who told you that?”
“A pregnancy test.”
“How many?”
Hennessy looked at him incredulously. “One?”
“Hmph. I cast my first objection.”
“Objection is not the reason I came here, shut the hell up and be reasonable.”
“I think I am being reasonable.”
“ Anyway, ” Hennessy continued. “I wasn’t sure if I was deluding myself, so I went to Hiraya Manado’s house--”
“What the hell would you go to her for?”
“Because she’s one, a nurse, and has already done the whole pregnant student thing before, of course. Anyway I took a test while I was there, and she said I’m between a month and two months--”
“That’s still early enough to get an abortion.”
“Why is that the first thing everyone says?”
“‘Cause I’m sitting here talking to a twenty two year old guy with tears in his eyes who’s going to every possible source of advice. Doesn’t seem like the kind of person on the edge of their seat for a kid.”
“But I feel like this is normal. I mean, how else do you react?”
“Exactly. I bet you there’s a hundred people on that campus who’d be thrilled to get that news, and that person just ain’t you. It’s not an insult, either.” He sat back and watched while Hennessy thought and thought, growing anxious and sweaty in the hot little cabin. Max handed him a water bottle, and he drank some down, fidgeting. “Did you ask Hiraya how she reacted?”
“Well, I didn’t get to, because when she asked who my last partner with a working penis was, I said ‘oh, gee, I dunno, probably your husband’, and as you can imagine, that didn’t go over well.”
Max blew air out of his cheeks. “Oh, damn. She kick your ass?”
Hennessy scowled and scoffed. “As if she could, I’d knock that girl out in a second.”
He shrugged. “Dunno, she seems like the small but feisty type, got a lotta fire in that body.” He looked up at Hennessy’s half repulsed expression and shrugged again. “I dunno. Like I said, I have objections to this whole thing.”
“Anyway, there was an argument, Li Jie said he could maybe have probably nutted in me, she went off and started misgendering me, threw a tantrum. Li told me to leave, and now I’m kinda stuck. Processessors are shorting out, I can’t think further than ten minutes into the future. I really ought to be thinking about ten years.”
“So you got that guy’s kid up in you? For sure?”
Hennessy huffed exasperatedly. “Why are you so skeptical?”
“Well now I’m not skeptical about whether you’re pregnant or not, now I’m wondering if you oughta get a paternity test.”
“I’m gonna get one, yeah, but just when I get around to it. I have a lot to do vis a vis married man’s baby.”
Max shifted in his seat and furrowed his brow a bit. “Well, that’s what I’m saying. You don’t know that it’s Li’s kid.”
“The way he didn’t say explicitly that he remembered nutting in me basically meant he did, and every hook up after then was either oral or penis-less, which means it could only have been on that day.”
“Yeah, on that day. But I was there too, and so was KyJuan. I don’t want to pull a Li, but I think I could maybe have popped a couple off. Ky probably did too, shit, with all the crazy stuff going on at the time. I think you should get one sooner rather than later.”
“You’re right…”
Max nodded. “It might not be his. Could be mine. Or KyJuan’s.” They looked at each other in shock, then shook their heads. “No, no way, right? How crazy would that be? Gay man and a gender fluid girl having a baby. That would be the most blue-haired headline I think has ever been put to print.”
“Caillette.” Shut up.
“I know. Faux pas on my part.” Max stretched his arms and leveled a look at Hennessy. “Valid possibility, though. You talked to Ky yet?”
“Not yet, came here straight from Hiraya and Li’s apartment. You have to drive me home, also.”
“How’d you get here? You didn’t walk.”
“A kindly stranger brought me.”
“And they didn’t leave you your car?”
Hennessy paused. “I was gonna ask you to drive me back, but… I guess she could’ve just driven off. Didn’t seem like the type tho, she was really genuine. Told me I should fight Hiraya.”
Max looked at her doubtfully. “Maybe you do have his kid in you. You sound pretty dumb right now. It’s literally dark outside, you let a stranger drive off with your car just because she was sweet-ish and gave you some bad advice?”
“Just take me home, Max.” Hennessy muttered, pushing off the bed. “I’m sick of getting bitched at.” Max picked up a jacket and put it on, offering one to Hennessy. “No, I’m sweating as it is.” He replied, walking towards the door as Max turned the lights out in the cabin and started to follow along.
“I’m dropping you off and then I’m gonna get you some McDonald’s. You look like you need it.”
Hennessy looked up gratefully. “Really? Thanks Maxy.”
“No problem. Then I’m coming back here, but I’ll be back in the morning for you, just in case you wanna talk about something or go get an abortion. The sooner the better, with all the laws changing.”
“Aaand there you go. Also, why don’t you just spend the night in my dorm? Ky’s spent the last week at his friend’s. I think he might be avoiding me. He mentioned moving out of our apartment.”
“Can’t,” Max answered briskly, shutting the door behind them and looking up at the purple sky. “Got someone coming over.”
“Someone I’d know?”
He took Hennessy’s hand and led him over the muddy clearing back toward the path. “Maybe, but hopefully not.” He hurried them through the trees and avoided the new puddles from the brief shower.
“And they’re spending the night with you.”
Max nodded. “Mhm.”
“Another fuckbuddy?”
“You got it.”
Hennessy pulled his hand out of his and crossed his arms with a scowl. “I can’t stand you.” Max looked over his shoulder with annoyance and kept walking without Hennessy’s hand in his.
“It’s not like I told you right out of the gate, you asked all that because you wanted to know. And I didn’t know you were pregnant, either. She’s just a friend--”
“She--Just shut up. Just shut the fuck up.”
Max rolled his eyes and shifted Hennessy’s pace in front of him as the sky darkened.
They got in his car and Max made an attempt to smooth things over with a little gesture of attraction, but Hennessy pushed his hand off his thigh and looked out the window. Max took him home as promised, and came back later with the McDonald’s, as promised.
Alone in his dorm room, Hennessy ate fries and stared out the window at the night, missing Ky a little, in spite of all their recent fighting. Ky was like a benevolent old mage, just ambling about with no thoughts, a lot of power, and a pretty good sense of what they were here for. Hennessy envied that, and missed that grounding energy.
He burped, and his belly rumbled. “Ooh. Baby don’t like fries, do ya?” He rubbed his gut and put them down, burping again, and looking out into the room nervously. The baby really didn’t like fries. It felt like his abdomen was clenching. “Unh…” He pressed in on his stomach lightly and flinched, releasing it with an anxious rub. “Ouh. I wish Ky were here.” Ky would know what to do about morning sickness, that was almost ensured with how many odd things the guy knew. Hennessy stood up to go get him from the dorm room two floors up where he was, when his stomach twirled. Frantically running to the bathroom, he covered his mouth and soft belly, managing to get to the toilet before spewing the McDonald’s.
He slumped in front of the bowl and groaned. This was not a good way to start off, alone, sick, and caught up in possibly the hardest decision of his life. To keep this thing that was wrecking his body, or get rid of it. Was it alive? Did it count as a life? No, right? But he was alive… when did that start? When would he have wanted his parents to start calling him human? He didn’t really have a concept of humanity until he was a speaking aged child, so maybe it was just their responsibility to suddenly endow him with a value. That was a lot of power. Maybe too much power for him. He didn’t want to use it, it seemed like a terrible thing to arbitrate.
Max said to sleep on it. He’d try. Hugging his guts and still in his clothes from the day, he walked into his bedroom and swung the door closed. It bounced back open, but he was too worn down to get up again. He fell asleep in a slightly feverish haze, listening from the gurgling coming from his belly and oscillating between his two options. He could get rid of the baby and protect his body, but probably ultra destroy his psyche for a while. He could keep the baby and protect his psyche, and probably ultra destroy his body for a while. Both had negative and positive repercussions, but as he drifted off to sleep, a notion occurred to him just as he was floating off the precipice of conscious thoughts. He was already referring to it as a baby from the start. Notable, but not so noticeable he woke back up. Dreams swept in.
Chapter 10: To Ourselves and Our Posterity, June 23
Summary:
!! TRIGGER WARNING: Emotional abuse. Mild domestic violence. Trans male dysphoria.
Use these symbols if you want to proceed with necessary caution:
// - potential trigger imminent
\\ - potential trigger passed
I figured out who I hate in this work. It was someone, but I couldn't pin it down. You'll see why.
Notes:
Male person, female sex organs. Can trigger dysphoria. Handle with caution.
Chapter Text
Ky shifted his hoodie and broke the awkward silence in the elevator. “So how often do you think they get four gay guys in the paternity clinic?” Li, Max, and Henny looked around exasperatedly.
“Shut up.” Hennessy muttered.
It was hard to tell who was more terrified, Max or Li, as both were pale and flighty, not letting their eye rest on any one thing, as if it would let the thought solidify, that they were the one. Ky on the other hand, was almost chipper. They stepped out of the elevator and into the receptionists office, and no one knew what to do. There were a lot of couples or unaccompanied downcast singles, but the four of them were somewhat frozen in front of the elevator before a nurse walked over.
“Are we all together?” They looked at each other.
“Sort of?”
“Yes.” Hennessy answered. “They’re here to provide samples for Hennessy Marquillo’s DNA test specimen.”
“Check in at the desk over there, you’ll need two forms of government ID and a credit card.” The three other guys walked over to the desk, and Hennessy sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “Are you not providing a sample as well?” He glanced up, then down at himself in a baggy sweatshirt and cargo shorts.
“Oh--no. I’m Hennessy Marquillo.”
“Oh, I am so sorry. You can wait here if you like, but I don’t think we need anything else from you until we have all the samples tested.”
“And how long will that take?” He adjusted his quickly growing back hair.
“About two hours, usually. It depends on how quickly the candidates provide the sample.”
“Ah, gotcha. So like, thirty minutes then.” The nurse laughed.
“The testing and administrative part takes about an hour, and the sample and consultation take an hour together usually. They’ve been known to take whole afternoons at times, though.”
Hennessy sat and waited in a separate chair from everyone, who had their own mildly horrified looks on their faces. They were called back by number, and Hennessy was left alone for about thirty minutes until they started to make their ways back to the waiting room, sitting back down separately, without saying a word. You could cut through the air with a knife.
Minutes rolled by and they fell asleep on the part of Li, read a magazine on the part of Ky, stared straight ahead on the part of Max, or stared straight at Max for the part of Hennessy. Someone in a lab coat walked out into the waiting room.
“Hennessy Marquillo, party of four?”
They stood, gathering at the hallway and following the lab coated technician to a back consultation room and filing in one behind the other. There were two chairs, so they let Hennessy sit in one, and then Ky took the other, purely cheerful. Finally, Max asked what was up.
“KyJuan, why the hell are you so painfully happy?”
Ky smiled and waved his hand. “Oh, I know it’s not me. I was never even inside Hennessy that way.” The wide eyed looks were full of fear. Li and Max realized it was now 50/50, and the room grew more tense, as Ky grew more excited. The physician walked in with a stack of papers and greeted everyone.
“Quite a full office, but that’s alright. Nice to meet you all, I’m Doctor Stykeman, I met with Hennessy already. Good to see you again.”
Hennessy shrugged. “Eh, well. I wish I could say the same, no hard feelings.”
“I understand.” Dr. Stykeman sat down and put his hands over the papers. “So, should we get right to it? Anyone need anything, more chairs, more water?”
Before anyone could say anything, Hennessy waved his hand. “Just say it. Those two are gonna burst a blood vessel.”
Dr. Stykeman nodded. “Well, just to let you all know, these procedures are highly accurate, to 99.99%, and are inspected thoroughly before being reported. There is virtually no chance of this being wrong, but if you feel that there is an error, then we can talk about other routes of validation. I have samples from KyJuan White,” Ky waved. “Li Jie Chan,” Li nodded, shaking. “And Maximus Cruz-Atwood.”
“Max is fine.” Hennessy knew he had already convinced himself of what he wanted. He knew that Li had already convinced himself of what he didn’t want. And he knew what he himself preferred.
“So, the father of Hennessy Marquillo’s child is Maximus Cruz-Atwood.”
Li dropped down into a squat and gasped, holding his chest. Max stood still, staring at the doctor. “What?”
Dr. Stykeman nodded. “You have a complete match with biological material collected from the fetus, and even the same blood type.”
“You’re gonna do the test again.”
“As I said at the beginning, these tests are accurate to the .01 percent--”
“You’re gonna do the fucking test again, no way. No fucking way.” He was backing out of the room, and Hennessy watched, heart rending. “I’m not putting up with this bullshit, I’m gonna sue this place.” He raced out, storming down the hallway and out of the office. Hennessy lowered his head and touched his stomach. It felt sicker now that his heart had dropped into it. He wanted Max. He wanted Max more than anything, but it wasn’t reciprocated one single bit. Ky put a hand on his shoulder.
“Hennessy, are you okay?”
His shoulders started to shake, and he broke down with a quiet sob. Li sat on the floor and put his head against the wall, actually praying in a whisper. Hennessy wept and Ky rubbed his shoulder while Dr. Stykeman watched with stoic acceptance. It was probably not a rare scene. They could hear Max picking a fight with a technician, and Hennessy cried harder. Was it that bad? Was he so awful to be attached to? He would do anything for Max, father of his child or not, what more could he do to make this man love him? Dr. Stykeman excused himself to go save his technician, and Li stood up, pale. He staggered over to Hennessy and grabbed his arm.
“Hennessy, I am very sorry. I have to go now, I wish you the best of luck, and congratulations on your baby.” The sound of Max shouting at Dr. Stykeman interrupted him. Li just looked away and rushed out of the room, already dialing Hiraya’s phone number. It was the fact that he felt the need to apologize for Max that hurt the most, because Henny so wanted Max to be a good person, to be a good father. They threatened to call security on the man, and he left the building, essentially having not said a word to Hennessy. Ky patted his arm sympathetically.
“There there, dear. It’s over now, at least. You have the answer, and it’s what you wanted.” They looked up at Dr. Stykeman’s stern and frazzled face as he walked back in, holding a pair of smashed lab goggles. Hennessy looked to Ky.
“Was it?”
“Come in.” Max let Hennessy in his house and closed the door after them, gently guiding him up the sweeping mahogany staircase, under the soft orange glow of a turned down chandelier. That old banquet hall glowed softly through the double glass doors, but they walked past it and up the stairs to the hallway and Max’s bedroom. Max opened the door and then locked it as soon as they were inside. Hennessy took a seat on a low couch and looked around at the double four poster bed with a low bedside table currently arrayed with a tray of glasses and a corked crystal flask. Closet doors faced the foot of the bed, and a bathroom door sat next to that, and various surfaces and chests and dressers stood in between around the outer wall. Max himself leaned against the bed across from Hennessy with his arms crossed, shadowy in the light of his lamp. Henny bent down and put his head on his knees. His brain hurt.
“I’m sorry I acted that way. I was frustrated because that wasn’t what I wanted. I shouldn’t have blown up like that.”
“Were you…” He gestured at the bedside table and Max sighed.
“How could I go into something like that sober?” Hennessy nodded and put his head back down. “I would offer you some, but--you can’t. Because you’re keeping it.”
“Who said I was keeping it?”
“Well then get up and go, because you’re ten weeks. You’re running out of time for the laws around here.” Hennessy squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against his knees.
“Is that why you’re talking to me? To convince me to abort it?”
“No. I’m talking to you because I feel bad for you, but I have no interest in convincing you one way or the other. Honestly, I don’t want to give you any advice. At the moment I resent you.”
//Hennessy looked up. “Why?”
“Because you put something in my life I didn’t want, and refuse to remove it.”
“Max--”
“I’m not saying you should remove it, I’m saying we both know that you could and your inclination is to leave it in my life.”
“I hate how you’re talking about this like it’s a bag of apples. It’s a baby, Max.”
“Do you believe that?” Hennessy pressed his face against his knees and groaned. “And you don’t even feel well. You’re not meant to be pregnant, Hennessy, you’re a twenty two year old man working on a research manuscript in a country without your family. This kind of thing is not for you. Or me.”
“But why don’t you want me?”
Max sighed and took a sip from a glass with melted ice and a rich, viscous alcohol in it. “It’s not that I don’t want you, I don’t want to be with you because you put something in my life I don’t want and won’t remove it, like I said earlier.”
Hennessy looked up, furious. “I put something in your life you didn’t want?”
Max put his hand up and the glass down. “It’s different Hennessy, I explicitly don’t want this; I put something in you you weren’t expecting, but you want it. Apparently.”
Hennessy thought his head would split open with frustration. “I don’t want it! I want you !”
“Then why the hell are you keeping the thing, Hennessy?”
“B-Because--It’s--It--” He burst into tears, sobbing, hugging his knees, struggling to think through this headache. He felt scrambled in his mind and his body, so his inner voice couldn’t keep up with his distress and translate to English.
“¿Puedes entenderme si hablo así?” Can you understand me if I speak like this?
“Sí.”
“Esto no se siente bien. No parece que deba ser mi decisión. Sigo sintiendo que hay alguien más a quien debería preguntar, alguien con más autoridad sobre la situación. Supongo que esa persona eres tú, pero ya me dijiste lo que querías y no me ayudó a tomar una decisión.” This doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like it ought to be my decision. I keep feeling like there's someone else I ought to ask, someone with more authority over the situation. I suppose that person is you, but you already told me what you want and it didn't help me make a decision.
“No hay nadie más a quien preguntar, Hennessy. Tu decides. Tienes el poder de arreglar esto o no, pero nadie puede hacerlo por ti." There is no one else to ask, Hennessy. It's up to you. You have the power to fix this or not, but no one can do it for you.
“Pero sigo sin saber lo que quiero.” But I still don't know what I want. He whispered.
“Lo sabes,” You do. Max said gently, stepping closer. “Lo dijiste antes. Me quieres.” You said it before. You want me.
“Pero tu no me quieres.” But you don’t want me.
“Te deseo. No quiero esto. La pelota está en tu cancha, toma lo que quieras.” I want you. I don't want this. The ball is in your court, take what you want.
“¡No lo hagas tan simple!” Don’t make it so simple!
“¿Por qué? Es tan simple que no quieres aceptarlo. O hay algo más para lo que lo estás guardando y de lo que no me hablarás.” Why? It is so simple, you just don't want to accept that. Or there's something else that you're keeping it for that you won't tell me about.
“No me acuses de nada! Bastardo!” Do not accuse me of anything! You bastard!
“¡Solo estoy tratando de entender!” I’m just trying to understand!
Hennessy got to his feet. “Lo entiendo completamente. Ha dejado muy claro que hará todo lo que sea necesario para obtener lo que quiera, ya sea manipulación, alcoholismo o soborno. La manzana realmente no cae muy lejos del árbol, eh.” I understand completely. You have made it abundantly clear that you will do whatever it takes to get what you want, whether that's manipulation, alcoholism, or bribery. The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree, huh.
Max grabbed his arm and Hennessy jumped. “No me insultes. No me compares con ninguno de mis padres.” Don't insult me. Do not compare me to either of my parents.
“Hay semejanzas notables entre Maximus Cruz-Atwood y Earnst Cruz, más allá de lo físico. Ambos son viscosos, ambos son egoístas y carecen de sentimientos.” There are remarkable resemblances between Maximus Cruz-Atwood and Earnst Cruz, beyond the physical. Both are slimy, both are selfish and lack feelings.
Max pushed him back down into the couch, and Hennessy’s hands immediately went to his stomach, protecting. Max grew furious. “Soy el manipulador? ¡Estás sosteniendo esto sobre mi cabeza como una guillotina!” I'm the manipulator? You're holding this over my head like a guillotine!
“¡No tengo nada sobre tu cabeza! ¡Estoy tratando de hacer lo correcto!” I'm not holding anything over your head! I am trying to do the right thing!
Max grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him once for emphasis. “¡No me hagas esto! ¡No me lastimes así!” Don't do this to me! Don't hurt me like this!
“¡Estas hiriendome!” You’re hurting me!
“Deja de sentirme culpable.” Stop guilt tripping me. Max muttered, letting him go.
“No lo soy, realmente duele.” I’m not, it really hurt.
“¿Cómo podría doler eso?” How could that hurt?
“Típico Cruz-Atwood.” Typical Cruz-Atwood. Hennessy muttered, and Max cut him a look.
“Puedo mostrarte lo que es el dolor.” I can show you what hurt is.
Hennessy’s fear went straight to his head and became reckless boldness. “Tú nunca.” You would never. Max looked over at him and took another drink of cognac, saying nothing. Hennessy had never hated or wanted him to be better more than now. He knew Max wouldn’t hurt him, because that was insane, but he did start to feel less secure. He stood up to test it. “No me lastimarás porque te pareces demasiado a tu padre.” You won’t hurt me because you’re too much like your father. Max stared in awe. “Que ese hombre dejaran que su esposa lo dejara por un proxeneta sin ni siquiera un acuerdo judicial.” That man let his wife leave him for a pimp without so much as a court settlement.
“Hennessy, be careful.”
“Golpéame, Max.” Hit me, Max.
“Watch yourself.”
“Hazlo.” Do it.
“¡Estás loco!” You’re insane!
“Puta.” Bitch.
“¡No hagas esto!” Don’t do this!
“Solo ríndete y dime que me amas!” Just give in and tell me you love me!
“Desaste de eso!” Get rid of it!
“¡Te mereces sufrir!” You deserve to suffer!
Cognac hitting, Max finally swung at him, not hard as he could, but too hard, and Hennessy screamed and ducked, crying for help. The door immediately opened, and two housekeepers, who had come to the door at the sound of an argument, moved back for the housemistress.
“Señores!” She shouted. She continued to reprimand as Max shook with emotion, but Hennessy didn’t hear it, he was passing out. The headache was immense, and fear and adrenaline ratcheted it up to dizziness too powerful to resist, and he slowly sank to the floor and dropped to Max’s carpet as the two housekeepers shouted and pointed to him.
“Señor? Señor! Despierta!” Sir? Sir! Wake up! Hennessy couldn’t move. Max’s voice grew desperate and grave as he ordered his housekeepers back and knelt down next to Hennessy. His breath smelled like cognac, but his touch was gentle, and Hennessy realized he’d never got hit. He was okay. His baby was okay, but he was keeping it. It tied him to Max, it had Max’s complete genetic profile, and was a symbol that he’d loved him once, and would never have tried to hit him, not sober or drunk. Max’s hand touched his face and he turned into it, feeling his warm, soft palm on his cheek.
“Hennessy, please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again, just wake up, please.” His eyes fluttered open, and Max’s tears made his heart soar. As they kissed, the housekeepers backed out and shut the door, and then Max carried him to the bed and took off his shoes for him, then his shirt and pants, clucking his tongue disappointedly at the too-tight binder and the lump of baby above his hips. “I think you should take that off, Hennessy. Doesn’t it hurt?”
He put his hand to his chest defensively. “I don’t want it off.”
“You can’t wear it until you get the abortion.” Hennessy bit his lip and looked up at Max's cream colored ceiling and crown molding, as the man sighed and ran his hand up Hennessy’s stomach to the edge of the binder. “You’re not getting one, are you?” Hennessy started to cry, and Max gently took off his binder, freeing his sore tits and massaging them gently. He was right, it did hurt, but they were swollen and sensitive with the early stages of milk production and nothing unnerved him more. Max’s hands were so soft and deliberate, pushing and caressing the soreness until it went away, and Hennessy started to moan. Max rubbed the elastic of his boxers, and then slid his hand inside with a soft kiss on his neck.
He rubbed his fingers against his clit and Hennessy gasped, reaching for the father of his baby and slowing his tears as the pleasure sensations spread from his clit down his legs and made his toes curl.
“Say you love me.” He whispered, and Max got on the bed, pushing his fingers between Hennessy’s lips and rubbing back and forth on his clit.
“Te quiero.”
“Say you won’t leave me.”
“Te quiero.”
God, he hated this. But he reached out to him as he started to orgasm. Tremors starting at Max’s fingers and ending at Hennessy’s heart made his stomach clench and his eyes close as Max rode out the climax against his puckered clit, then kissed him.
“Come inside me, baby. Te necesito, papi.” Max got on the bed and pulled his pants off, kissing down Hennessy’s body, skipping his lower stomach, and making out with his pussy, before spitting in it, and penetrating fast. Hennessy grunted with displeasure, but soon shifted on the bed and sighed as Max’s curve drove need into his brain, and he begged to get hurt.
Max railed him against his bed, and Hennessy’s hands reached for one of the posters of the bed, flipping on his side and gripping the wood as Max slammed his pelvis against Hennessy’s, lifting one of his legs over his shoulder. Hennessy lay on his side, clamping his hands around the structure of Max’s bed as Max nailed his curve against the g-spot he’d found almost instantly, eliciting soft cries, and squirts of ejaculate until Max groaned and slammed his dick into Hennessy once more before folding over and coming. Hennessy reached for him, but Max lay down on the bed, panting. Henny rolled over and clung to his side, as Max put an arm around his shoulders and wiped off a little with his duvet.
Hennessy’s headache was still there, he grunted and nestled under Max’s arm, closing his eyes tightly. Max gently felt his forehead, then turned on his side for a hug. Henny nestled into his arms with a slight wince, and Max kissed the top of his head, gently stroking his ass. He suddenly wished he still had the binder on, but to leave Max’s arms then would be akin to suicide. His head split, and all he wanted to was to sleep in this embrace, but Max sat up and placed a hand on his waist.
“You’re not well.”
“My head hurts.”
Max scowled and looked away, biting the inside of his lip. “I told you you’re not made for this--”
“If you say it again, I’m gonna jump out the window.” Max immediately lay down and tightened his grip around Hennessy’s waist, and Hennessy moaned softly and put his forehead in his hands.
“I hate seeing you sick.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Max kissed him and started to get back on top, straddling Hennessy’s naked body, which in spite of the slight bulge of his lower belly, was still perfect to Max’s taste, and Hennessy knew this was all he wanted, to be wanted by Max like this. The hips he hated were what Max loved, the tits he despised were all Max stared at as he rode, and Hennessy just closed his eyes and tried to transfer himself back to femininity, but he just didn’t want it. Max would want him to be happy, not to be feminine because he looked it. He was still a man, and would remain a man until it felt as wrong as it did when Max grabbed his breasts. He shoved his hands away, and Max looked away, rocking back and forth inside Hennessy steadily, restraining himself to please his partner. When after several tireless minutes of steady, gentle fucking, Hennnessy came with a shiver, Max got up and left the room. Hennessy got under the covers and fell asleep hugging Max’s pillow, and woke up cold.\\
Chapter 11: F*** around and find out, July 5th
Summary:
Hennessy's in trouble. Max gets in trouble.
TW: Homophobia & bad parenting
Chapter Text
Hennessy clutched his stomach and cried out in pain, tossing and turning on his bed. Max grabbed hold of his shoulder, trying to hold him still while he frantically searched the internet for what may be wrong.
“Hennessy, calm down!” He ordered, pressing his shoulder into the mattress and scanning the internet. Hennessy dug his fingers into his gut and kicked his covers, grimacing as if he was being cut in half, as if a cramp had suddenly become labor pain. Max tried to brace him, but failed, as Hennessy tossed his arm off and curled up against the wall, sobbing and hugging his waist, sweating with exhaustion.
“Damn it!” Max grunted with frustration closing a search. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, besides the fact that there’s a fucking fetus parasiting off your body.”
“Shut the hell up!” Hennessy shouted, turning around and trying to smack him, but the action was so frantic it mostly missed, and he just grit his teeth and curled back up again, bawling. “My fucking uterus hurts! AUGH!” Max put down his phone and rested his hand on Hennessy’s shaking side.
“I’m gonna get help. I dunno what’s wrong with you man, but if this goes on much longer I think you’re in serious trouble.”
“Ohhh,” Hennessy moaned, holding his tightly swollen stomach. “I feel like shit!” He sobbed.
“I’ll be right back.” Max muttered, getting up to leave, but Hennessy grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t leave me, Max.”
Max had a feeling he meant that in more than just one sense, but got up anyway and went downstairs, swallowing hard as he got back in his car and reversed out of Hennessy’s apartment parking lot. He was at a Fourth of July banquet when Hennessy called, weeping and saying he thought he was getting his period, and Max came over as soon as he could, finding Hennessy not bleeding, but with so much abdominal pain he couldn’t get up. For a pregnant guy, that wasn’t a good state to be in. For a normal guy, still not too good.
He considered taking him to the ER, but Hennessy first of all, couldn’t afford that, second of all hadn’t suggested it himself, and third of all, in the very back of Max’s overrun mind, he didn’t think Henny wasn’t fit for child-bearing at all. The ER would shove him full of medicine to keep his body working when it clearly wanted to get rid of this thing. The thought of Hennessy making it through six more months seemed impossible, especially with the way he’d been lately.
Confused, aggressive, and often deeply depressed were sort of the rotation of Hennessy’s emotions, and the state of his body was to blame. Getting food to stay in him for the right amount of time was rare; he couldn’t hold solid food and only peed when he wasn’t meaning to. He was upset that his boobs were tender and enlarged, because he couldn’t wear binders, and the dysmorphia was continual torment. His balance and energy was all over the place, his breath was always short, and to really seal the deal on the miracle of life, he’d lost his vision for a day last week.
Max went to the only reliable source of information on the female body he had, besides his own exploration. Apartment 502. The person on the other side of the door looked through the peephole before opening it, and unsurprisingly, hesitated. Hiraya pulled back the door and stared at him, waiting for whatever Max was here to say. He took a breath.
“Hi. Sorry. I need your help.”
“With what?”
“Hennessy’s crying.”
“What the hell’s that got to do with me?” She looked him up and down annoyedly.
“His stomach hurts really badly. He’s in trouble, when he called me he thought he was losing his baby. You know I wouldn’t be here unless it was really bad.”
Hiraya stepped back from the door nervously. “Come in for a sec.” She said hurriedly, leaving the door open for him as she turned around and started walking back toward her bedroom, shouting for Li Jie.
“Li?” She opened the bedroom door and stuck her head in, then walked back to the bathroom and opened the door. “Li? This place has three rooms, there’s not that many places you could be.”
Li walked in the front door behind Max, startling him, although the man didn’t pay him any mind besides a glance. “What babe?” He said, looking straight at Hiraya, who seemed instantly relieved.
“We’re going to Hennessy Marquillo’s, pack Angel’s stuff, we’re leaving right now.”
“Why?”
“Do it, Li! Why do you always argue with me when there’s no time to?” Li got over himself, walking over to their couch and picking up a blue backpack with a baby bottle in the side, finally raising an eyebrow of greeting to Max, who nodded at him and patiently waited while the couple moved around their house and got the baby and the baby’s things, Hiraya carrying an extra bag with a textbook and a couple of print outs in it. Max’s heart warmed with gratitude as they got into his Lexus and sped back to Hennessy’s place, on the other side of FDR Millennial, while Hiraya peppered him with questions and flipped through her texts, marking pages she wanted. Max really didn’t have that much information. Henny had called and said he was dying at first, then that he was getting his period, and after that it was kicking and fighting Max’s hands.
When Max parked, Li and Hiraya got out immediately and followed him back to Hennessy’s apartment, which was on the ground floor and not locked. They could hear him crying from the doorway, and Hiraya rushed back into the hallway to his bedroom, opening the door and letting herself in while Li held baby Angel and watched Max follow behind, slightly sheepish, knowing Hennessy would reject his choice of help. Characteristically, he did. Even sweating and trembling as he was, he scooted away from Hiraya with his arm wrapped around himself, looking at Max with accusatory anger.
“She’s a nurse, man. She’s contractually obligated to help you, and also not as expensive as a trip to St. Mary’s.”
Hennessy tried to protest, but his breath was stolen by another contraction in his waist, and he grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, falling back on the bed and twisting with a groan. Hiraya placed a concerned hand on his leg.
“I know we don’t get along, but that has nothing to do with this. I wanna help you; I became a nurse so that I could help people. Just work with me for now.” Max looked behind him as Li appeared in the door, arms free of Angel. Hiraya frowned at him, “Where’s Qi?”
“I found his nursery so I put her down in it. She was sleepy. That’s what it’s for.”
Max scowled and turned back to the man in agony, rubbing his calf as he slid it up and down the sheets in constant whole-body tension. Hiraya gently pulled Hennessy back toward herself, asking him to lay on his back. Desperate for help, Hennessy obeyed, twitching and curling his fists. Hiraya pulled up his shirt and placed a hand on his bloated belly, apologizing as she gently pressed into it in different places, specifically under his ribs on the right.
“It’s not a blockage, and it’s not gas.” She said, turning to a different page in her book. “What does it feel like, in as accurate detail as you can?”
Hennessy struggled to talk through his clenched jaw and hitching breath. “Cramps. But horrible, horrible--AH!” He curled up and coughed on tears, pulling his shirt back over his waist as Hiraya thought frustratedly, staring at the twitching torso as she drummed her finger on the page rapidly. Li walked into the room to turn to another page in her textbook, suggesting something that Hiraya rejected, but then countered with another possibility. Li pointed to something else and shook his head. Max watched with slight fascination in his anxious impatience as they discussed and examined Hennessy’s state.
“Are you sick with anything? An STD, a fever, an ear infection, anything like that?” Hennessy shook his head rapidly, squeezing his arms into his stomach as Max rubbed his foot soothingly and tried to encourage him with a soft voice. The guy couldn’t rest with this fetus thing in him. “So you’re not taking any pills besides your prenatal stuff.” Li said flatly, brow furrowed. Hennessy shook his head again and half screamed, which made Max get up and take a walk around the room. Li watched him pace, thinking hard and sort of listening to Hiraya, who was explaining a condition and gesturing to Hennessy, when Li suddenly sat up straight. He stared intently across the room at something Max was pacing in front of. He walked over to it quickly, picking up the blue plastic L and turning back to Hennessy, aghast.
“Do you have asthma?” He asked, holding the inhaler. He nodded. “You take this stuff?” Li said worriedly, walking back over to the bed and sitting down to read the label. “Your OB-GYN didn’t give you a replacement?”
“No.” Hennessy grunted. “I don’t go--” Hiraya looked appalled. “I just do it on my own.” She shook her head emphatically.
“No, no! You can’t do that! You need adjustments made to your whole life when you’re pregnant--Li, what’s wrong?”
Li set down the inhaler and looked at his wife. “Inhaler doses have steroids and estrogen in them; unless you prescribe a supplement with it, they lower progesterone levels.”
Hiraya turned back to Hennessy almost angrily. “Do you know what estrogen does?” Hennessy hardly responded. “It’s the hormone that breaks down the uterine lining. Progesterone reinforces it. Your body is trying to produce more progesterone to maintain your baby’s environment, and you’re giving it estrogen. Have you broken or sprained anything lately?” Hennessy shook his head again and clutched his lower stomach, panting exhaustedly. Max interrupted.
“He’s been really short of breath, so we thought it would help.”
Hiraya nodded. “Overproducing progesterone to counteract the inhaler steroids.” She turned to Li, who was speeding through a page in the textbook. “Good catch, baby.” She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Go to the hospital. They’ll give you a blood transfusion to clear you out. After that, tell your gynecologist you’re pregnant and start going to your fucking check ups.” She shook her head with reproof. “You really could have started your cycle, you know. Go to your fucking gyno.”
“I don’t have one.” Hennessy gasped finally.
“Well get one.” Hiraya snapped back, unsentimental. “I don’t give a shit if it’s expensive. You could have k--” She bit her tongue. “Just fucking go, okay.”
“Easy for you to say.” Hennessy muttered through gritted teeth. Hiraya scowled exasperatedly and crossed her arms with disgust.
“You’d rather kill yourself than have a medical bill?”
“Same--difference.” Hennessy grunted stintedly, curling into a ball and panting as his insides wrestled with, apparently, hormones of all things.
“Hennessy, you have to go.” Max insisted. “I’ll go with you.”
“Hah!” Hennessy laughed acridly. He’d been sick for weeks and Max didn’t do a thing but sleep with other people. “And what happens if I say no?”
Li glared down at him. “Fuck around and find out.”
An ambulance wasn’t necessary, just a quick ride in Max’s car to the ER, from where the Manado’s took an uber home once he was situated and the surgeon was informed, and Max stayed with Hennessy in the ICU. He had an IV in his arm and several electrodes stuck to his body to measure his heartbeat and his baby’s heartbeat, but was currently pretending to be asleep. If he was going to pretend to be asleep, then Max might as well leave; he stood up to go, but Hennessy grabbed his purse. Max sighed and didn’t turn around.
“What, man?”
Hennessy sniffled. “Thank you.”
Finally, Max turned with a sigh to the red, desperate eyes that scared the shit out of him whenever he considered the person they belonged to. His responsibility, his recklessness, his charge. He didn’t want it. Heaven forbid he bust a nut in an orgy, now he had to stay in the hospital all night. “No problem. I hope you feel better.” He pulled his purse out of Hennessy’s hand semi-gently and left the hospital, pretending he couldn’t hear him cry.
When he got home he called his father and explained there was an emergency at the late Mrs. Cruz-Atwood, now Gonzalez-Atwood’s house, and he’d be home soon. In his car, he took his belongings out of his purse and put them into a briefcase, then tossed the purse under the seat and ruffled his hair, buttoning more of his shirt and clearing his throat. Ready to go inside, he walked in the house and nodded to his housekeeper.
“Is he home?”
“Yes, sir.”
Just like he thought. He walked upstairs and toward his room quickly, only managing to put his hand on the handle before the man he knew was watching him said his name.
“Maximus.”
He straightened up and rolled his eyes, staring at his closed door. “Yes, sir.”
“We need to speak.”
“I disagree.”
“This would argue against you.” He turned, and his father was holding a small, heavy briefcase he normally kept under his desk in the corner with the key in his wallet. His heart clenched.
“Where did you get that?”
“Do you know what it is?”
“Why do you have that, it came out of my room.”
“Do you think that I’ve looked inside it, and now you want to know how best to lie to me about whose it is?” His father’s eyes frosted over and Max felt the old fear in the pit of his stomach he’d felt as a child when he spoke incorrectly, or made the wrong comment about something, or liked the wrong thing.
“It isn’t mine.”
“I wish I could believe you, but it has been reported to me that you have been seen in my school wearing these… ridiculous cosmetics. It is clownish, Maximus. Do you understand that you cannot do this, not now or ever? You embarrass everything this school is known to be. You are my son. If you insist on this behavior, I may find myself with no choice but to punish you.”
“I’d like to see you try, you cuck.” He opened his door and went inside, slamming it closed and then pushing his back against it and letting out a shaky breath. He had more makeup. He kept it in separate places because this had happened before. His father had to know; how many times had Max put his neon green tipped hands in his pockets, or kept his winged eyes turned away. This charade of feigned ignorance wouldn’t change anything. Max would do what he wanted to do because that was what he’d done his entire life, since his mother and father had always been busy to raise him and his housekeepers and nannies were his employees. He would fail more often even, leaving jewelry and hair products around where they would be seen and attributed to him. His father could install cameras, check his banking history, freeze his account, lock him out, rope in his mother, or whatever he thought of to keep things from the things and places he liked. It didn’t matter, Max would always be free to do whatever he wanted to do. Neither babies nor geezers could stop him, he swore that.
Chapter 12: Who's ya daddy?, July 10
Summary:
Max and Hennessy are not dating, Max can fuck who he wants. And he wants Ky, who wants him too.
Notes:
Gets into scat kink at the end. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ why not?
Chapter Text
“K-Ky?” Max stuttered. Ky turned from the small wood burning stove in Max’s fishing cabin with a spoon in his hand. “Mommy, my-my tummy aches.”
“I bet it does, baby. You’ve eaten so much.” Ky bent down and pressed on the stuffed ball of Max’s overindulged gut, and Max let out a weak moan. Ky turned back to the stove and kept stirring, he was making gumbo, and gumbo takes several hours to make. Over those several hours, he’d fed Max a loaf of bread, a six pack of beer, a whole chicken from Nando’s, and a few snickers bars. Max felt so sick to his stomach he was going to puke, but there was a pot of gumbo on the wood burning stove thay Ky was starting to become satisfied with.
“Mommy, I can’t eat that.”
“Not now, baby. I’m cooking.”
Max could feel his insides stretching as several hours of bread and beer pressed against his skin, and he moaned. Ky accidentally dropped the salt shaker in his hand and it rolled off the table. He bent down to pick it up and Max flicked at that ass in his face. He had power over Ky, Ky was constantly dropping things when Max got loud.
“Mommy, I’m bloating up, please help my belly.” Ky couldn’t resist the smile that spread across his face as he slowly put the salt shaker back on the counter, his side profile heating.
“Just a moment, baby.”
Max burped and wriggled a little in the chair. “Ky, mommy, my tummy hurts!” He turned from the counter and looked sympathetically at Max’s blushing face, hot with exhaustion, and bent down to soothe the swelling belly. “Rub it, mommy. Please, I’m bloated to hell.”
“It must ache,” Ky murmured, rubbing the biggest bulge of Max’s belly, right around his navel. “Because your stomach is so hard.” Ky’s hands worked out much needed burps, and Max started to relax into the aching pain, but Ky stood up and filled a ceramic bowl with hot gumbo.
“Please let me stop, I can’t, I can’t.”
“You can.” Ky crooned. He spooned it into his mouth and Max groaned, shoving his hips forward as he filled with hot, well spiced stew, that ached his intestines more than anything. So many spices worked into his gut and he belched deeply, gripping his fat sides. “Max,” Ky commented, looking at him, leaning against the counter with the ceramic bowl in his hands. “You’re fat.”
Max lay back against the chair and nodded with a moan. “I am.” He’d never admitted that before. “I’m fat as fuck.” He was. He’d been saying he’d work it off and it was bloat from past exploits for almost a year, but the thing was, it never went away. His belly was always fat and his hips were always jiggling. Hips don’t jiggle when you’ve eaten too much, they jiggle when you’ve eaten too much every week of a year. Ky kept feeding him, and Max kept swallowing, but his stomach bulged beyond his point of endurance. He’d only managed to stuff two bowls inside his engorged tummy before he started pulling away from Ky and turning his mouth from the spoon.
“Ky, it hurts!” He cried, and Ky grabbed his jaw and forced him to eat, despite the audible, labored burbles coming from Max’s loaded stomach. He swallowed because he had to, but clutched his round gut and farted hard. “It hurts so bad, oh, it hurts so bad. You hurt me, Ky. You hurt my insides.” He moaned, rocking, holding his blown up gut, but experimentally shaking it up and down in his ungentle hands, moving it around over his thighs. “I need a belly rub, it’s gonna explode.”
“You can be so submissive and needy when you want to be, Max. I really enjoy that.”
“Shut up and rub me.” He groaned, closing his eyes and poking out his reddish, domed belly as Ky knelt and gave it a firm kiss. His taut muscles compacted his gut and left it firm and resistant to being pressed into, so Ky leaned him forward and massaged his back until he burped hard and whimpered. “Can you get me some water?” He asked weakly, and Ky kissed his cheekbone.
“Of course.” Max looked up deviously as Ky turned to get a glass, and reached for the man’s waist, yanking him backwards onto his lap. “Oh!” Ky exclaiming, falling backwards into his fuck boy, then giggling and trying feebly to free himself, wriggling around on Max’s lap while Max got a much needed break, and Ky got tickled. “Stop, stop,” he panted, laughing and twisting. “I’m gonna suffocate--Max--eek!” Max tickled him until Ky finally fought free and put his hands on his knees, giggling and gasping for air.
“You let your guard down for one minute and I’ll get you.”
Ky turned to him, with his knees apart and his massive belly poking forward, and couldn’t resist a bit of a cynical chuckle. “You’re not really in a position to be goading me.” Ky sat down on his knees and pinned his arms back, deviously leaning into his face. “At the moment, you’re at my mercy.”
“No better place to be.”
Ky made out with Max, restraining his arms behind his back as the man got hard, his hooked cock rising against the surge of his gut. He humped against his stomach and moaned softly, slipping off the man’s knees as he began to suck his cock. Max ate while KyJuan pleased him, and the painful pleasure became routine for an hour. He ate and ate, cumming and moaning, stuffing his stomach over Ky’s durag with a hand on the velvet fabric. Ky got tired and sat back, looking up at his baby’s grown stomach and empty balls with a contemplative, slightly annoyed look on his face. Max let his heavy hand fall to his gut with a slap and glared down at him.
“What?” It was prompted more like a statement than a question, and Ky growled a little. “What is it?” Max asked again, more respectfully.
“You’re too fat to 69.”
Max laughed. “We can try. I might fall asleep.” They transferred Max to the bed by grabbing each other’s hands and Ky basically having to bicep curl Max up from the chair while he hung on and pushed himself up with the back. Ky swung him to the bed with momentum and dropped him on it, making Max grunt and cough. “Ough… gentle.”
“You always say that. ‘Gentle’, ‘don’t hurt it’. When do I get to stop being gentle, Max?”
“You know what?” Ky glared, unamused. “I’ll bite. I’m your slave, mommy.”
“If you say that I won’t play.”
“Please, daddy.” Ky climbed on top of him and looked hungrily into Max’s eyes.
“Ah-ah-ah. Who’s daddy? I know my baby loves mommy.” Ky took his shirt off and Max took in those toned abdominal muscles and runner’s shoulders with pleasure, admiring a man who took far better care of his weight than he did. Ky took off his durag and revealed new, tight cornrows with beads, then opened Max’s cabin closet and took out a skirt.
“That belonged to my ex.”
“It’s mine now.”
Standing there with an eight inch cock and a light blue miniskirt on--nothing else, Ky was an emblem of Max’s freedom. His fears and failures to live up to his father’s golfing businessman dreams vanished in the cloud of KyJuan’s aura. Ky climbed on the bed and placed his hands on Max’s massive belly.
“Who’s in charge?”
“You are.” Ky jiggled his stomach and Max groaned and reached to still his hands. Ky dug in his fingers and Max’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t complain. Ky continued to disrupt his awful internal state and Max had to lay there and moan with discomfort, as Ky watched him squirm and drovel. His smile was malicious.
“Who’s ya mommy?”
“You are.”
Ky kept jiggling his stomach as he put his fingers to Max’s anus and started to pull on the hair and fondle the rim. Max smiled a little, and licked his lips. Ky started to plunge his middle finger into Max’s hole and his pointer finger into his shallowed belly button, swirling both in a compelling circle until Max’s back arched a bit and his cock reformed a bit.
“Be good and turn over.”
Max had to obey, so he turned to his side and flopped over, struggling to push onto his hands and knees. Ky had to get down and push him up onto his front as Max’s stomach gurgled and rolled on the bed.
Ky rimmed his ass for lube as Max drooled and screeched as Ky’s tongue ran around the inside of his body, followed rudely by the tip of his cock.
“Mommy--mommymommymommy--”
“Mommy’s got more.”
“AUGH!” Max belched as Ky shoved inside his ass and started gyrating against his prostate, sadistically forcing his fat stomach against the bed. “It’s so much--it’s all so much.”
“So much pleasure for baby.” Ky murmured, riding slow and controlling Max’s every move with his cock inside him. He made Max cry by taking his cock deeper inside his ass and jiggling Max’s fat sides to shake his insides around the rod rather than the other way around.
“I’m gonna cum mommy.”
“Huh?”
“I’m gonna cum!”
“You misunderstand, I tell you what to do. I didn’t say cum, baby.”
“But my belly is full of you, I want a climax.”
“Who is on top of you right now?”
“I just can’t hold it in, you’re so deep--” Ky pulled back and slapped Max’s fat waist. “Please put it back in!” He cried, shaking and red. “Put it in, I need it, I need it.”
“Don’t cum.” Ky shoved his cock against Max’s prostate and haughtily glared at his face to see if he could be obedient. Max grit his teeth and yelled, beet red and sweating, teeth clenched to hold it in, and Ky ran his hands through the short hair. “It’s because I love you. Now again.”
Ky thrust hard, lifting Max’s ass with the strength his thighs put into drilling his anus. Max belched hard and clutched his stomach. Again and again, Ky slammed his cock against Max’s gspot and let it subside without taking him to the end. Max sobbed and grinded on mommy to get it again, but the more he begged the longer he had to wait to get all eight inches inside again. His stomach burbled and rolled on the bed, Max getting weaker and more exhausted, leaning more weight on his sick, overstuffed front. Ky went in and out like tide until he found a wet spot on the bed. He dragged his finger through it.
“Did you precum?”
“It just--it squirted out, I couldn’t--”
“You whore.” Ky put his finger in Max’s mouth and turned him over, fucking him in the belly button harshly as Max sucked his finger and tears fell down his temples with shame and arousal. Ky breathlessly worked to disrupt his stomach’s state as punishment, cumming a blank in his belly button and standing up with a dizzy grunt. He staggered off the bed and Max clutched his fat waist, abused by Ky. The man got them water from the sink and Max refused, preferring to caress the pain and belch.
“I’m so fat…” He muttered.
“So round for mommy.” Ky patted his stomach and lifted Max’s legs, slipping his cock into Max’s anus and holding him on his lap, the heaviness of his massive ball gut bouncing between them as Ky stared into Max’s wet eyes and held his lower back, tossing and catching until Max burst twenty minutes of build up onto his chest. “You got it all over me, bitch.” Ky smacked him, but Max was too cumdrunk to care. He laid back on the bed and held his stomach, burping and moaning.
“I don’t feel good.”
“I don’t care.” Ky stood up and annoyedly cleaned himself off with the dish towel. He looked at the towel in his hand and over to the stove and back at Max, a thought forming. Max could do nothing as Ky heaved the gumbo pot on the bed and fed him. He had no room. He was holding it all up and down his constipated intestines, in his swollen, expanded stomach, and in his cheeks trying to please mommy, who ruthlessly stuffed baby until he almost popped. As they finished, Max’s eyes closed. He was exhausted. He had cum a countless number of times. His anus was gaping, his belly button was leaking clear fluid, and his stomach was about to burst. A food coma took him for an hour or so. He woke up to a clean cabin and Ky curled up on the bed with him, a sheet over them both and all evidence of the evil mistress of earlier vanished on the sleeping man’s countenance. The durag was on again and the skirt was nowhere to be seen, Ky was just naked. Max pet his cheek and Ky woke up.
“Hello.”
“Hi mommy.”
“You’re still not done?”
“Never with you.” Ky put his fingers into Max’s sore ass as massaged the inflammation and tenderness. Max massaged his sides and burped. “Ky I think I’m going to poop.” KyJuan took his hand from Max’s ass to his thigh.
“Can you stand?”
“No.”
“Where’s the bathroom?”
“Outside, there’s a little building.”
“Do you have a butt plug?”
“I think so.” They stuck a dildo in his ass and levered him off the bed to get to the door without messing in the cabin, but as soon as Max tried to walk with a silicone dick plugging his anus, he got an erection. He bit his lip and put his arms on the table.
“It hurt?”
“No. It feels too good.”
Ky nodded and gently pulled it out. Max’s back caved and he moaned so deep and loud, Ky’s hand paused. Max whispered and groaned to himself, and suddenly, it was sliding back inside him. Ky used the dildo to fuck him against the table, gently holding his arm in the other hand, until Max started to fart. Ky took the dildo out dirty, then plugged it back in.
“It-it’s started. It’s coming out.” Ky nodded and held his shoulder as he pulled the dildo out and Max shit himself. “Hold me, mommy.” He whispered. “My tummy hurts a lot.” Ky put an arm around him and rubbed his sides as diarrhea flung out of his insides and splattered to the floor. Max moaned and burped painfully, his stomach just so sick he couldn’t do anything but let his stuffed insides void it all on the floor. “Oohhh.” He cried softly. “My--my tummy, mommy. Oh, it aches. It’s bursting open.” He belched, and the contraction caused him to shit again, and he leaned forward on the table, moaning as his stomach heaved and gurgled, displacing gumbo and beer between his legs, emptying for a few minutes. “My fat stomach,” he whispered. “I’m so disgusting. I’m so full I can’t even get to the lavatory.” He clutched his sick gut and groaned. “Oh, my stomach is sick. I’m in so much pain.” He grunted and stiffened, a bit more shit coming out of him before Ky walked him out to the lavatory, still dealing with a little running diarrhea. He sat on the toilet out there and gripped his fat, wide stomach, heaving like he was delivering a child into the toilet, his aching stomach discharging all its contents. Ky went home. Max was able to go home eventually, but bloating and indigestion did not subside.
“I’m too big. I’m too full. I’m gonna blow.” He waddled in the door, when his gut rippled with pain and jellied food. He penguin-sprinted for the stairs muttering. “I’m about to fart, I need a bathroom. Now my gut’s too gassy.’ The whole way to the staircase he clutched his fat lower stomach; when his gut surged, he squatted with a moan, and then loudly ripped ass in his pants, shitting out the spicy remnants of gumbo as he reentered a long process of explosive diarrhea. He sharted and shit in his lobby until a housekeeper rushed over and led him, waddling with the load in his pants to the toilet, where he unloaded for hours.
“I’m so stuffed, oooh, ooh my tummy…” He whined, his gurgling, burbling stomach bloating and endlessly creating farts. “My waist…” He moaned, holding the struggling sides of his half empty gut. “It’s getting bigger again.” He vomited a little and finally called his housekeeper back, to take him to the minute clinic. They flushed his system with a laxative and an enema, then rehydrated him and sent him home.
Chapter 13: It Gets Better, September 16
Notes:
TW: s*icidal ideation, panic attack
Chapter Text
Hennessy got in his car and shut the door, exhaling shakily. The trouble was partially general exhaustion, partially overheating. It was way too hot to be wearing a hoodie, but he kept it on at all times getting groceries. His back hurt from the walking, the lifting, and the weight on his body. He was getting too big to hide it, and nervousness followed him throughout the day, like the baby bump poorly concealed under his sweatshirt outed him to everyone in the grocery store, but there was nothing he could do but try to act nonchalant. Against his own desires, he pulled the hoodie off and cranked the AC, holding his belly.
“Mmnh.” He groaned. “I hurt, I’m hot, and I wanna just be home.” He rested his head on the steering wheel and rubbed along the side of his stomach, massaging the tension and sighing with relief as he started to cool off and relax. He scooched down, the heat outside still making him a little queasy as he tried not to get sad about the discrepancies between his appearance and his presentation. The binder didn’t fit, his hips were getting wider, and his jaw was softening. It made him angry when he looked in the mirror, and he was considering giving in and making the assumptions about him accurate.
He rubbed the bulge under his beater shirt gently and felt a kick. “Ah-” He muttered, shifting his hips. “That doesn’t feel good.” Feeling good wasn’t really the goal anymore; not feeling so sick he couldn’t move was. No one helped him; Ky had moved out after a vicious argument about not fucking his baby daddy despite the fact that they were not in a committed relationship, Max still wasn’t willing to date him, Hiraya was not super excited if-and-when Hennessy bothered her, though she’d usually do her best to answer a question. The kid refused to work with him, even if he dragged himself to the gynecologist. He didn’t like to sit in the waiting room with all the middle aged women who stared at him and tried to decipher what his situation was, and then the gynecologist herself would do the same. He didn’t like going everywhere alone, either. That might actually be the worst part, even counting the diarrhea and migraines. The loneliness.
His guts shifted as the baby kneed him in the stomach and he gagged, bending over and groaning. He reached up to start the car, arm wrapped around his waist, slightly watery eyed. As he reached for his seatbelt, his abdominal muscles twinged and he sucked in a breath and slammed his hand against the door. Someone walking in front of the parking space looked up.
“Henny?” Hennessy hid his face and grit his teeth, but the person still came over to the car and opened the door, which forced him to look up.
“Hey, Jules.” He muttered awkwardly, bending over and wincing.
Jules pulled the seatbelt out of his hand and reached for his shoulders. “Stop, hon.” Henny conceded to it as she pulled him carefully out of the front seat, steadying his stumbling frame and gently leading him to the edge of the parking garage and sitting him down with his back against the concrete ledge. The street rolled past a few meters below, and a blue-skied horizon stretched behind them toward the city as she sat next to him and offered a water bottle. “Hydrate. Did you eat today?” Hennessy took the cold bottle gratefully and took a swig.
“Barely. Can’t keep it down.”
She patted his arm. “Coffee and chocolate is a swear-by hangover cure, for me.”
“I know, but there is a limit. I don’t know how many cans of espresso it takes to get your baby to stop moving, but I think it might be more than I can drink and keep the baby.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about it.”
Hennessy broke down a little and palmed his belly. “I’m so sick of this. My insides… they hardly work anymore. It just hurts. ” Jules nodded and rubbed his shoulder, taking a deep breath with him while petting his hand. “I feel like a weird creature that pukes a lot and wears too big boxers and has a lot of acne and a baby coming. My entire family--they can’t come back to America for six more years. And I don’t have time, or money, or state of mind to go home, pregnant, male, and losing scholarships left and right. Max won’t fucking say he loves me, and I know it’s ‘cause he doesn’t, but it would make it so much easier if he did, so I can’t let go of the hope that maybe he does, and if he keeps fucking me maybe he might. I just--I feel used when he does it. He’ll call me baby, holds me when I cry, buys me things, but he leaves at the end. Why does he do that, Jules? Why does he always leave? Why does everyone always--” Jules wrapped their arms around him and held him close to her chest. Hennessy pressed against their body and started to get on her lap, crying, sniffling, and looking at them while he turned and slid his hand over Jules’s thighs.
“Don’t.”
“Huh?” Hennessy blurted out, teary eyed and blindsided. “I--I just thought--” He burst into tears and got off of them. Jules tried to hold his hand, but he pulled it away. She didn’t get to do that, refuse him and then half come back like Hennessy hadn’t been pushed away again. She sat there and watched Hennessy sob and rock and shake, not even willing to touch him now. She started to touch his hand, but Hennessy bawled and threw a fist, weeping and falling apart. He needed the sweatshirt to cover this stupid baby so people wouldn’t see. “Wait--wait--” He struggled and tried to lift himself up, biting his lip with effort. Jules’ shoes shuffled. “I need--I--” She just stood there, and Hennessy screamed at them. “Help me!” They sidled over and offered one hand, but it wasn’t enough to lift Hennessy to his feet, so she had to pick him up under the arms, and then he hobbled to his car, half blind with tears, and pulled out his hoodie, gasping as he pulled it over his head, the cold sweat on his skin soaking into the cotton. He looked down at himself, and the baby was still visible. He shouted and slid down the side of his car, tears soaking his collar. Jules’s shoes shuffled slowly away as if he were a wild animal.
In some way, he felt like one. There were so many things wrong with him, and all he wanted was for Max to come say “I love you” and then to stay, to keep holding him, and not leave him cold in the morning. He wanted to stop waiting for all these horrible things all the time. He felt so terrible. He wasn’t sure why he felt so sick all of a sudden, light headed and queasy, but it caught him by surprise and he groaned, hugging his stomach. He probably overexerted himself and overheated, that was the biological answer, but right now all he had was the fact that nothing about him worked properly. He had to go home, Jules was still watching him like he was a tiger or a puzzle they couldn’t understand, and it was terrifying.
He pulled open his car door and she reached out, but Hennessy shoved her away as hard as he could, and the shoes stumbled back, further away than before. Hennessy reeled. His stomach was churning and his head split; what was happening? He started to wobble as he tried lifting himself into the car, but stumbled out of it, holding his belly and moaning. He was sweating buckets, and his vision faded. All he knew was that Jules’s shoes were out of his peripheral vision, and thus he was alone. He started to cramp again, instantly grabbing his side and puking. The shoes ran to catch him as he started to upchuck uncontrollably, Jules grabbing his shoulders and holding him up against the car, though Hennessy was getting puke on them, and they took out his phone and called 911. Hennessy lost track of what was happening. All of a sudden he was in an ambulance. All of a sudden he was in a hospital. All of a sudden there were people, and noises, and machines and he was still shivering, but then the only thing that remained was a cold, dry bed, with an IV drip in his arm and a white room as far as he could see. The blinds were closed over the internal and external windows, and he was alone. He had the urge to kill himself. He looked at the windows, but the hospital was one step ahead of him. Locked. He looked for something to throw through it, and the hospital was one step ahead of him again. The chairs were bolted to the ground, and the equipment was chained to the bed. He looked at his hands. Soft cotton cuffs were secured around each wrist, fastened with a buckle, and cushiony-tight.
Oh no.
“Hennessy?” Hennessy’s eyes opened to the singular emergency light over his head and he squinted with annoyance both at the position of the light and the sound of the nurse’s voice. “You have a guest.” He wanted to bolt upright, but the handcuffs made it hard, so he lay there silently, not willing to push the button to raise his bed like a mummy.
Please be Max, please be Max, please for the love of all that is good and worth having be--
“Hi Hennessy, it’s Hiraya.” Hennessy’s heart sank, and he teared up a little. “Can I come in?”
There were a few moments of silence before Hennessy finally nodded, sniffling a bit and shifting on the bed, feeling exposed and undignified with his hands locked in place. He wasn’t so angry about it now, though. The urge to fight and kick had passed, even the urge to break the window had subsided.
“Do you need anything? Water, something to eat, something to listen to?”
“No.”
“Okay. Let me know if you do.” Hennessy looked at the closed blinds and sighed soundlessly. “I’m really glad you’re okay. I talked to the nurse, and she told me you were back to healthy levels.”
“Nurses aren’t supposed to share patient information.”
Hiraya sat down on a stool chained to the bed and nodded. “Yes, well, this was okay.”
“Why, because it’s just me?”
“Uh, no,” She swallowed and glanced at the door. “They brought you to St. Mary’s first, and I was your nurse. You didn’t recognize me. Since you’re still my patient for today, I can know your condition.”
“Where am I now?” Her eyes widened a little.
“They didn’t tell you? You’re at Abundantly Clear Psychiatric Hospital. They transferred you once your dehydration and panic attack was dealt with. How are you feeling now, actually?”
“I’m not sure, I think I’m on a sedative.” He looked at the IV. “And my back hurts.” Hiraya laid a hand on his belly and nodded with a smile.
“That’s what pregnancy’s like--”
“Don’t touch it.” Her hand retreated back to her side and she bowed apologetically.
“Sorry.”
Hennessy grit his teeth and shifted, lifting his hips and redistributing the weight of his belly on his spine. Hiraya looked away sheepishly, folding her hands in her lap. Hennessy went to pull the sheet back over himself, but his hands chaffed in the bonds and he sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes with annoyance, but not anger, since it didn’t seem that he was able to feel that while sedated.
“It would hurt less if I could sit up or turn over. But my hands are stuck.” Hiraya nodded, and Hennessy stared at her until she looked up. She held his gaze for a few seconds, then looked at his hands, then back at him, and suddenly caught his drift.
“Oh, I don’t know if I should--”
“C’mon, Aya. You know what it feels like.” He chided, squirming slightly and wincing. She bit her lip.
“I should ask before I--”
“It’s my body. Who are you going to ask about what should be done to my body? I want them off, Hiraya, my back hurts.”
Hiraya glanced around the room at the bolted furniture and the chained up monitors. Hennessy glowered. Finally, the woman reached up and unbuckled one of his hands, gently slipping back the strap, and he lifted it out of the cuff and snatched off the other one before she could, rolling his wrists and propping himself up on his elbows immediately, sighing with genuine relief.
“Ahhh. That feels amazing.” He stretched and rubbed his back, then sat against the pillow sewed to the mattress and stared at her, grateful. She glanced up as he massaged his arms. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“Now, why are you here?”
“Just to check on you. I was worrying about you all day until my shift ended. I think I’m missing being pregnant with Angel. It was like you were me, panicking and struggling without my Li by my side.”
“I know this is going to sound stupid, but, you struggled?”
“Oh, did I struggle? I think I had about as many breakdowns as I did bed wetting accidents.”
“You peed yourself?”
“Yes! Often, kind of, because I’m little and Angel was so big, she sat on my bladder like, all the time. I’d wake up wet and cold and I’d try to quickly wash my sheets before my dad noticed. He was already distraught about ‘the matter’, as he called it.” Hennessy nodded slowly.
“I didn’t know that you did that.”
“It’s a little embarrassing, so I don’t like to mention it to anyone. Li wasn’t there at that time, and by the time we were together again I was hardly sleeping anyway, so I’d just get up to go in the night. He’s such a deep sleeper, it didn’t bother him.”
“Huh.”
“Sorry, do you want me to drop the subject altogether?”
Hennessy pursed his lip and shook his head, pulling up his sheet and glancing at the window, wishing he could see outside. “What time is it?”
“9:30.”
“You should get back to your husband and child.”
“I will, but first, is there anything you want to talk about? I know I haven’t been there for you like I should have through this.” Hennessy looked over at her suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean like, I haven’t been checking in and giving you support and advice. I know advice is really annoying, but as another young parent I definitely haven't shown up for you.”
Hennessy furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand. We aren’t friends. I had sex with your husband. And advice isn’t annoying.”
Hiraya cringed and ran her hand up and down the sheets, smoothing the wrinkles to soothe her ruffled nerves. “Well, just because we aren’t friends doesn’t mean I can’t show some decency and have respect for your situation. I have the ability to help you in a tough situation. I should do the right thing.”
“Respect for a situation doesn’t mean helping.”
“What does it mean, then? It sure as hell doesn’t mean apathy. If I’m withholding helpful resources, that's a choice to hurt you. Respect for your situation means acknowledging our positions in relation and acting in the most appropriate way, which would be giving you the annoying advice, and some pickle juice sometimes.”
Hennessy chucked a little. “Well, I think I had enough juice, but I don’t think advice is annoying.”
Hiraya waved her hand. “Oh, you know. When everyone who’s ever seen a child before walks up to you and starts spewing all the information they have about babies and birthing them, and raising them, and growing them, and what all you should do to have big strong babies and what all will kill them instantly, like light switches, iPads, formula, central cooling, and pull-ups before 4.”
They stared at one another and waited for one of them to say they understood. “No one’s done that to me.”
“Really?” She furrowed her brow. “People did that to me like every time I stepped out of the house. Either that or tell me I’m too young and pretty to get knocked up.” She scowled into the middle distance. “Man, how I wished Li were there. But he wasn’t, he was working hard in Reistville.”
“Ky lives in Reistville.”
“Really? How’s he doing?”
“No clue.”
“Oh.” Hiraya looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry about you and Ky and all that. It really sucks to lose a friend. One of my best girlfriends from high school dropped me after I told her I was expecting. It never happens all at once, does it? It’s just a little skirmish here, a snide remark there, an ignored call here, and all of a sudden they’re not in your life anymore. And you wish you’d noticed all the signs, ‘cause you somehow didn’t see it coming and now you’re without someone you still unfortunately love.”
Hennessy stared at her. “Yes. Exactly that.”
“But you move on. And sometimes it feels better, too, being without someone you were really in the weeds with. Sometimes it doesn’t. It depends on why you lost them.”
“Do you think it’s bad to hold on to someone like that?”
“Someone like what?”
“Someone who you’ve really been in the weeds with, someone who makes the snide remarks and ignores the calls, but they’re there when it really counts and you’ve got history.”
Hiraya frowned and shifted in her chair. “I don’t think there’s such thing as ‘when it really counts’. It all counts at all times. It’s all about respect, not about who’s picked up that dark phone call the most times.”
Hiraya looked at him carefully and Hennessy didn’t meet her eye. He was thinking very hard about the person they both knew this conversation was about. She waited a while, watching the emergency light glow, smoothing the sheets, and listening to the silence, real silence, not hospital grade silence. Hennessy nodded eventually, rubbing his stomach and looking at the clock too far away to read.
“You should probably get back to Li Jie and Angel.”
“Yeah, I should. It’s good to see you, Hennessy. I hope you keep getting better.”
“Me too.” Hennessy mumbled, watching her stand and fix her hair. “Will you call sometime?”
Hiraya turned back toward him, surprised. “Sure I can! I don’t have very good hours, but I’ll call you when I get a spare moment. Do you want all the advice about central cooling and pull-ups?”
Hennessy nodded. “Yes, please.” She smiled, and then left the room and the door locked firmly behind her. Hennessy looked down at the bump under the white sheets, moving around and making his heart flutter just a little. That was his baby, not Max’s. Es niño.
Chapter 14: So Good, October 10th
Summary:
Max will probably never stop having horrendous diarrhea until he stops living like he lives. But Hennessy takes it way too far and puts his life in danger.
Notes:
Long time no see, eh? Gonna try and finish this one up.
Chapter Text
Hennessy knew what he was about to do to Max was wrong, worse than wrong. But Hennessy was six months pregnant with his child, and Max had been fucking his best friend. He would sort out his own relationship with KyJuan later. Right now, he only wanted Max’s demise. They were ‘on a walk’ through Max’s estate, the rolling fields near the school sometimes used for gentleman’s sports and benefactors dinners that was right now the backdrop for backshots. Max had been getting high while Hennessy was collecting clam specimens by the golf lake, and they found each other quite romantically.
He played nice for an hour or so. He knew that Max had been sleeping around and finally caught him in the act. Max’s cabin was practically falling down, he was railing this guy so hard, not that Henny had gone walking through the woods and snooped by it just to see. Now he was bent over the hood of a golf cart taking backshots, and Max was getting close to finishing. He’d have the munchies soon.
After destroying Hennessy’s jeans with cum stains, Max stumbled to a bench and hit the blunt he’d left there again. He was clearly not in a good mental state. Maybe the guilt was eating him. Regardless, Hennessy suggested they order delivery, and Max was as enthusiastic as any pothead. Hennessy ordered enough food for Max to get stuffed, which was more these days, and fed it to him lovingly; the perfect doting baby daddy. Unbenounced to Max, every single taco and fry was dusted with laxative. And it was starting to kick in. He shifted uncomfortably.
“You okay, Maxy? You stuffed, want a belly rub?”
The man grimaced and rubbed his lower side. “No, I'm alright.”
“Okay.” Hennessy snuggled against his arm and started to strike up one of his usual conversations about invertebrates, his specialty.
“Can we stop talking about insects, please? You’re freaking me out.”
“Fine.” He huffed. “Tell me about your campaign against becoming a cabinet member on your dad’s board, how’s that going?”
“It’s going fine, of course it is. He told me--ooh…” Max rubbed his stomach. “I shouldn’t have eaten so much. I already stuffed today… I feel sick.”
“You did?”
“I ate six servings of pancakes and a milkshake and a dozen eggs, almost.”
“Max, that’s awful.”
“Had the munchies.”
“You already got high today?”
“You really have no idea what my life is like, do you?”
“W-well tell me, then. What’s it like?”
“It’s s--fuck, my insides. My stomach aches like hell, Hennessy, help me up.”
After helping Max up, Hennessy had to assist him walking back toward his house. His stomach was churning, loud and clear, sick deep down to it’s core. All Max could do was belch and cradle it. His bloating eventually caused him to undo his belt, and the reaction in his lower digestive system was predictably awful. Max realized with horror that a group of golfers was walking up the path, so shaking, had Hennessy pull him along, his lower stomach distending with indigestion. With ass clenched, he waddled along, burping and forcing himself not to relieve himself of the pressure with a herd of golfers moving unpredictably across the green. Hennessy kept them moving, occasionally covering Max’s distress with a cough or a forced laugh, as if he were having an animated and comical conversation with the man whose face looked as pale, green, and agonized as could be.
Max’s gut groaned loudly, bloating and swelling with digestive hell, as Max grew more sweaty and desperate, eventually pulling Hennessy aside and begging him to make it stop.
“I can’t, Max, I don’t know what to do! What if you’re really in trouble?” Max clutched his underbelly and cried out in distress.
“You can’t feel what I feel, Hennessy, it feels like my insides are ripping themselves apart!” He pushed his sweaty hair back. “Fuck! I don’t know what happened!”
“C’mon, we’re close now. Only a little while before you’re home.”
Hennessy pulled Max along, ignoring the intestines’ audible protest. As they began the ascent up Max’s back driveway, the man clutched his belly and doubled over. “Oh god no.”
“What?”
“Something’s happened. I can’t move. Hennessy, I can’t move another inch.”
“Why, Max?”
“There is so much bloating me that it’s touching my prostate. I’m hard.”
“Don’t look now, but we have people behind us. Stand up.” A group of golfers walked into the field house and Max and Hennessy pretended to be engaged in a heated argument to dissuade interaction, then as soon as the door shut, Max belched like a whale.
“Henny, I can’t go inside. They’ll hear me.” Hennessy looked around.
“How about the shed? You can make it 300 yards to the shed.”
“I’m telling you I am rock hard. Don’t look.” Hennessy did look, and Max’s curved cock was pressing against his pants. He touched it, and Max cried out.
“Fuck! I’ll bust--”
Inside the shed, Max threw off his pants and Henny took in the truly insane amount of bloating going on inside his lower belly stuffed with unvoided poop. He sat on the edge of a flower box and moaned.
“My belly is so sick!” He bent over and belched. “How can I not be able to shit now?” His penis dripped and Hennessy touched it.
“Would getting rid of this help?”
“Fuck, my insides ache, Hennessy. Anything getting out of me would help.” Henny slowly began to pump Max’s cock, feeling the man’s full body trembling as just as the precum started to flow faster, his inner gut gurgled, sending ripples down his fat, jiggly stomach.
“I’m about to--ohgod--” Max clutched his sides and moaned, his belly slowly un-constipating as the second wave of stuffing filled his gut and pressed the overstuffed intestines to their limit. Poo flexed against his butthole and Hennessy kept jacking him off.
“It feels so good. It feels so good, I just need to void it and then I can cum, but I don’t know why it’s not coming out--I feel like I’m about to explode. My bloated belly is just so sick it doesn’t know what it wants to do. What happened to me, Hennessy? I was fine and then all of a sudden, agony.”
Max grunted and groaned and precame for fifteen minutes in the shed, but the diarrhea had blocked up somehow, so they snuck him in the back of the house, with his pants undone around his roiling, sick gut. Walking to the farthest bathroom near the ballroom, Max got a weird look on his face.
“Taco Bell always has a delayed effect with me. Always makes me feel gassy.” He touched his navel. “I don’t feel so good. Oh no. It’s--” He gazed down in horror and pulled up his shirt as his stomach started to rumble. He raised his eyes to Hennessy, wide with fear. “I-- I think it’s about to start--”
Harsh gas doubled Max over at the waist, and Hennessy grabbed his arm and pulled him down the hall, around the corner, into a cleaner’s closet as Max threw off his pants and started to beeline for a bucket. He moaned, filling up the pail before dragging himself to the trash can, where he clutched his waist fat and cried out with distress. Hennessy felt guilt creeping up his throat, but swallowed it down. He could never tell Max the part he had in this hell. Max threw his head back and yelled with aching pain, the diarrhea burning in his asshole as it shot out of his body in a gush that refused to pause.
“My stomach is sick, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with it--” Max gasped, clutching it with one hand and the trashcan with the other. “I didn’t even know there was this much inside of it, I guess stuffing last night on bread wasn’t such a good idea either. I was so hungry all week, I guess it kicked me. But now--all that’s gone--” He gasped and farted. “And pancakes and taco bell are half liquid.” He hunched over and moved to another receptacle, a plastic bin. “I think I’m gonna be here for a while, Hennessy. Go home.”
“I can’t leave you, Max. I-I- hurt you.”
“It doesn’t matter, Hennessy, I’m not mad at you any more. Keep the baby, I don’t care! Gah–fuck, my stomach.” He coughed and sobbed, sweat dripping down his face by his ear as his stomach boiled and gurgled. Hennessy could see he was in actual agony by the silence that lasted almost an hour, and the way he stared at the ground while his intestines squirmed and voided. He gasped intermittently, and grit his teeth with a repressed moan when it got really bad. Hennessy tried to confess to poisoning him again, but Max still didn’t catch his drift.
“No, it’s not about that. I hurt you today, when we were walking around. I was mad at you for having sex with Ky, and that’s why I let you fuck me and got you food–”
“Hennessy, I know you think it’s important cause you’re hormonal, but it’s not. Please stop talking. Oh god, I think I’m gonna throw up.” He hung his head and belched wetly. “No, not again, not again.” He moaned. Hennessy looked surprised. Max had been throwing up regularly?
He stitched up and heaved, throat bubbling stickily, but the expulsion was just burping and a small scream as his colon contracted.
“I think I’m really sick, man, can you get my housekeeper?” Max panted, eyes brimming with tears.
“Max, I’m not sure you want me to do that, I mean look at this place, there’s a bucket of shit.”
“I don’t know what to do, Henny!” He whined, leaning back and panting as a log of packed shit began to stretch his hole. “I feel like I’m getting torn apart. I’m so hot, I can barely see. I’m dizzy as all hell, dude, am I dying?”
“No, no, you’re not dying!” Hennessy cried, with zero confidence. “That’s ridiculous. You’re having a hard time, but a person who’s dying doesn’t talk as much as you do.” He reassured. Max’s tears started to fall, and Hennessy’s heart broke.
“Promise?”
Henny nodded, throat closed with guilt. Max groaned and forced the turd out of him, which landed in the bin with a plop. Max groaned with disgust and hiccupped as something climbed up his throat. He prickled, and Hennessy dove forward with a cardboard box.
Max flung forward and projectile puked into the box, hands slipping on the plastic bin and sending him almost down into it until at the last second he lurched forward, hurling with force.
Henny reasoned he must be done with the runs, and gently cleaned his bare ass with a clorox wipe found in one of the cabinets before pulling up his pants and stroking his hair. Max clutched the box as his stomach twisted, sending yellow, foul liquid up his throat while he coughed and strained, shoulders tight with tension. Hennessy shushed.
“Shhh, shh, it’s okay, Maxy. You’re okay. It’s almost over now. Almost out.” He locked the secret of his medical sabotage into the ‘Never Tell’ section of his brain and turned to a doting boyfriend again, though his boyfriend he was not. “It’ll be okay, Maximus, just breathe. Lean on me, here.”
Henny slung Max’s arm around his shoulder and held up the weak and weakening man while the vomit turned to dry heaves of pink slime and white chunks. Max stopped seizing with pain and slumped to the shoulder offered.
“There there,” Hennessy whispered, stroking the shadow of a beard. “Better?” Max mumbled something Hennessy couldn’t hear, and he asked him to repeat it. “Hm? What did you say?” Max didn’t respond. “Maxy?” Henny chanced a look at his lover’s face, and found the tan skin sheet white. “Max. Maximus. Maximus Cruz.” He turned and tried to shake the man awake to no avail.
“Maximus you gotta wake up for me. Max?” His heart started to pound and he looked at the door, then looked around. He couldn’t leave Max here. He couldn’t carry him out six months pregnant and six inches shorter. He couldn’t ask anyone to come in here and see the way he’d left it. It was a lose, lose, lose.
“Max, I’m gonna lay you down.”
Henny was an invertebrate biologist, how different could the human body be? Laying Max limp on the floor, he turned his head to the side and opened his mouth. Still breathing, good. His heart was beating very hard, and his skin was cold. The only thing to do was soothe him and wait. Hennessy stroked his chest and hair and breathed cool breath on his forehead until with a wince, Max started to rouse.
“Max? Come back, babe, you’re okay. I’m here.” Hennessy leaned over the man’s face as his bleary eyes opened and his brow furrowed.
“I feel like I got run over by a truck.”
“You don’t look much better.”
“My head hurts like a bitch.”
“I bet. You got really sick all of a sudden. I think it was food poisoning.”
“Yeah, probably. That’s what it seemed like.” Max sat up slowly, and Hennessy watched in silence. His upper body swayed unsteadily and he pressed a hand to his forehead. “I don’t feel good at all, man.”
“You should go up to your room and rest.”
“Yeah.” Max prepared to climb to his feet, but glanced over at his baby daddy. “Thanks, man. It’s a shame we turned out like this, huh?” He gestured to Hennessy’s pregnancy and stood. “I’ll see you.”
Leaving the door open, they both left, Max with his hand wrapped around his stomach, leaning against the wall as he began to make his way upstairs to his bed. Hennessy went out to his car, where he’d stashed the clam’s he’d collected before they found one another. It was relayed to him later than Max collapsed outside the door to his room and was rushed to the hospital, his blood sugar dropped below survivable levels, and his internal body temperature past fever. His lab work revealed more than cannabis and laxatives, there was trace psychedelics like Ecstacy and a decent amount of Xanax.
Being the Provost’s son, that wasn’t allowed to get past the housekeeper Hennessy had befriended because they were from the same place in Mexico and relied on for all Max related gossip. He was slightly relieved. The fiasco wasn’t all his fault. Max needed to see a specialist. Now, hopefully, he’d get the help he was long overdue for in rehab.