January 2nd
Dorian awoke, belly having calmed after the gentle dinner of the night before. A mint salad to cool his tum, a plate of thinly sliced fish, and a small portion of caramel-drizzled coffee cake. Delicious, and unexpected, considering the agonizing gauntlet just a few hours prior.
“Morning, sweetness! Hope you don’t frighten easy, because there’s a load of crepes waiting for you down here!”
Dorian couldn’t help but smile out of the corner of his mouth. He rolled out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom, yawning as he flicked on the light. In one corner was a simple yet spacious shower with a stainless-steel shower head. Besides the toilet and sink, the rest of the room was dominated by a massive bathtub which looked more like a small pool. It had four faucets for quick filling; it seemed perfectly usable for daily use, if not expensive and impractical with a shower so near. Dorian just shrugged it off as another fanciful amenity that may see some use for bubble baths and de-robed, climbing into the shower for a quick wash with the expensive gels provided.
In a few minutes, he had toweled off, re-dressed, and had headed down to the first floor. His nostrils were filled with promises of sugary sweet treats waiting for him in the dining hall, readily confirmed by the assortment of plates that waited at the head of the table. Delta placed the last of the plates down as Dorian walked through the door.
“Good morning! Sleep well?” the pink chef smiled, slithering over to him.
“Definitely. The bed is super comfortable.”
“Great, because there’s a big day ahead of us! I’ve sent for a gardener to harvest the orchard, though I’ve got to head back to the restaurant for a few hours before lunch. I hope you won’t be too lonely without me, darling.”
Delta gave him a little pat on his back. “O-Oh, uh… I’ll be fine, I think.” Dorian reassured.
“Good, good. Well, let’s not let the food get cold, shall we?”
Delta led Dorian to the table and pulled the chair out for him. As soon as he sat down, he was scooted forward, getting a face full of delicious crepe steam.
“It smells really good…” he salivated. He picked up the knife and fork and cut off a small slice drizzled in fresh strawberry sauce, and brought it to his mouth. His vision pulsed as the bite flooded his senses; it was bliss in crepe form. Dorian couldn’t help but cram the rest into his mouth, his cheeks puffing with food as he chewed.
“I’ll just leave you to it~” Delta giggled, retreating back through the entrance.
The next hour was bathed in warm, sweet flavors. Strawberry, chocolate, cinnamon, all graced his lips with their decadence one by one. And, in turn, his stomach was packed with six plates of thin pastry, turning his smooth, average belly into a tight basketball. He could barely finish the cider set out for him, yet the warm smoothness of it soothed the aching in his belly. After the last gulp, he let out a long sigh and rested back in the chair for a while, eyes closed.
Ten minutes later, sufficiently recuperated, Dorian pushed himself back out of the chair and slowly roamed back into the main hall. With his hands in his pockets, he examined the portraits along the walls. The city’s history stared back at him, painters and architects, explorers and nobles. It was hard to ignore their sizes; soft rolls, prodigious bellies, arms like turgid pastry bags, chins and folds and dimples all carefully rendered on canvas by skilled hands. Dorian’s mind connected the theme to Delta’s love of cooking, but inevitably chalked it up to the fact that nearly all of the city’s famous contributors just happened to be big and left it at that as he moved on to the lounge.
He was immediately drawn to the bookshelf. Recipe books and handwritten cooking guides lined the top, some embellished with fancy leather bindings and others just collections of notes tied together with cooking twine. Further down was a collection of classics; The Legend of Vander, Empire of Hunger, Claritser’s Guide to Magical Afflictions (and the sequel, Living with Transfigurative Curses: It’s Not so Bad, by Claritser.) The rest were combinations of easy-read adventure stories, amorous fireside romances, fantastical sci-fi tales, guides on proper self-care, and enthralling fantasies with beautiful covers. ‘Not a bad collection’, Dorian thought, and wandered past the tall shelves of films that comprised the less-literary library.
He couldn’t help but stare at the twinkling, colorful bottles lining the back wall of the bar. On first glance, they just seemed to be liquors in overly fancy decanters, but on closer inspection Dorian found that most of them were simply fruit syrups and candy toppings. There were a few fine alcoholic beverages, yes, but the majority seemed to be sugary sweet dessert treats. Dorian spotted a dual-doored freezer below him and crouched down to open it, revealing dozens of ice creams, sorbets, and various other chilled treats.
Dessert bar. Huh.
He shut the fridge and meandered about for a while before finding a comprehensive bestiary from the library and a particularly cushy couch in the corner. Halfway between the human species listing, he fell asleep, the fire gently crackling away.
February 1st
A month into his vacation, he found himself building a daily rhythm. First, breakfast with Delta, then a trip to the library where he’d read for an hour, then off to the pool where he swam until his belly stopped hurting from the mass amounts of food he couldn’t help but stuff into himself. Then, he’d join Delta for lunch, and after that he’d take a book outside to the orchard and read in the chilly evening air, the scent of berries swirling around him. At the end of the night, a comparatively light dinner, thirty minutes of pushing piano keys, a cup of fresh red tea, and a shower.
Dorian had yet to explore the rest of the spacious manor-nor had he even visited the greenhouse-but still felt in bliss. Nothing had changed particularly, but the relaxed familiarity was fine enough to live comfortably with.
Nothing had changed. That is, until today.
The sleepy boy finished toweling himself dry in the steamy bathroom and pulled on his underwear. However, where they usually hung around his posterior baggily, the fabric was pulled snug. Not enough to pinch, but unfamiliarly tight.
“Hmm.” He frowned to himself, turning to look himself over in the mirror. His rather average physique had gotten decidedly more “average” in the past month, his whole body having attained a thin layer of pudge. He didn’t think he could call himself chubby yet, but if things kept progressing he was sure he could soon.
“Maybe a little more time in the pool could help…” he shrugged to himself, and tossed on his shirt. “There’s certainly enough time for it.”
Delta was waiting in his usual spot by the time Dorian arrived back in the dining hall.
“Good morning, my adorable friend! How are you feeling today?” he spoke, putting a touch of sauce on the edge of the omelet plate.
“I’m alright.” Dorian replied, and plopped down in the chair.
“Well I hope you’re alright and hungry, because I made just a little too much this morning. I’m a little nervous about this to be quite honest, it’s a new recipe and I’d hate for it to go to waste…”
Delta quickly unveiled the dish just beyond the omelet, a cloud of steam rushing out to the air. Sitting in a bed of powdered sugar sat a slab of French toast so large it looked more like a pillow than simple egg on bread. A light brown-sugar sauce was drizzled across, hints of maple wafting through the room. A single strawberry was perched atop.
“Woah…” is all Dorian could think to say, awe-struck by the massive meal.
“I’m so sorry it’s so large!” Delta clasped his gooey hands together, seeming more than a little distraught. “I’d hate to think I’d have created a meal that somebody couldn’t finish. Please, try your best for me!”
“A-Alright! Let me just… finish these eggs first.” Dorian spoke, an uncertain grin wavering on his face. He shoveled in the thick warm omelet with his eyes focused on the main course, as though it would suddenly walk across the table and crush him at any moment. Eggs vanquished, he hesitantly pulled the large platter towards him, letting it rest in front of him. He had an urge to hug it in all of its soft, plush glory, but resisted and raised his knife.
“I believe in you!” Delta cheered as Dorian cut off the first minuscule sliver which seemed like a meal in its own right. He brought it up and stuffed it into his mouth, syrup smearing across his lips. Ecstasy again, as to be expected from his cooking by now, but this felt… different. Like the winter season had divined it right there on the table, a warm, sweet shield against the frosty air outside. It was a sunny window, a close hug, a comfort.
Simply put, it was the greatest breakfast Dorian had ever eaten.
“W-Wow…” he gasped, forcing another large chunk into his mouth. Delta watched with glee, thick tail wiggling slowly behind him like a happy gummy worm.
Dorian’s belly stretched into a now-familiar ball, yet not even half of the food was gone. Fifteen minutes later, he was no closer to being done, and felt more stuffed than a refurbished teddy bear. His jaw ached, and his resolution waned.
“I-I… I don’t think I can finish this…” he groaned, sinking into his chair.
Before Delta could even ask if he’d undone his belt, Dorian lifted his shirt gently to reveal that he hadn’t even worn one, and his tight-as-a-drum tum pushed the open flap of his pants out.
“Are you sure? Maybe you just need some help…” Delta inquired, leaning forward to place a soft hand on his reddened belly. Dorian flinched, cheeks flushing.
“H-Hey, wait- ahh…” he sighed, Delta’s fingers rubbing the intense aches into calm pulses. For as embarrassing as it was to have his host giving him post-meal massages, it undeniably felt fantastic.
“Better?” he purred, kneading his belly like a cat on wool. Dorian nodded, leaning his head back.
“Then… do you think you could finish it?”
Dorian looked at the still-massive pile of syrup, sugar, and toast, then back to Delta.
“I… don’t think so. I can’t keep chewing.” He rubbed his mouth gently for effect.
“Oh, I can help with that! Here, watch this.”
Delta picked up the platter and dumped it right onto his chest, the slime cleaning the platter into a shine, which was easily deposited out of his back and placed back on the table with his tail. The food swirled around within him like a small hurricane, quickly dissolving into his very core. He stifled a tiny slime belch, and raised his hand.
“Open wide, please!”
“Uh, okay…” Dorian opened his mouth hesitantly, and Delta pushed two fingers against his tongue. Dorian opened his eyes wide in stunned response (or lack thereof) as his hand melted into his cheeks, capturing the decadent flavors of the dish he’d consumed. It was like drinking warm chocolate: luxurious, flavorful, and comforting. He gulped the first mouthful of goo, and before he knew it another mouthful had taken its place.
It didn’t take long to build a rhythm, cheeks refilled and quickly emptied down his throat one after the other. His belly grew ever larger, yet somehow felt no more irritated than before. It was practically a beachball in his lap before Delta withdrew his hand, rosy finger drawing down the center of his lip, leaving behind a pink trail.
“Good, right?” Delta grinned a catlike smile, rubbing his belly in wide circles. At this size, small circles just wouldn’t do.
Following on the thought of his size, Dorian looked down in drowsy awe to the tight orb of flesh in his lap. His shirt buttons had migrated upwards with the rest of the cloth, dangerously stressed and inches from snapping. He looked like he’d swallowed a great melon; however, he felt like he’d swallowed a whole patch. With hands splayed, he gripped both sides of his belly, and even with each finger stretching far apart, he could contain scarcely little of the turgid ball.
Delta’s soft rubs kept it from aching terribly, and relieved him greatly; in fact, it almost seemed like his stomach was retreating ever so slowly. Was it?…
His pants slowly filled out with plumping cheeks and thickening thighs, growing like a baking roll until it filled out his pants to skin-tight quality and pushed up ever further, giving him a muffin top just big enough to pinch and arms only slightly rounder. It felt inconsequential; just a small amount of fat here and there… nothing that wouldn’t come off with a bit of exercise.
He felt like a blimp reveling in post meal rapture, as one does after an exceptionally large meal. It would be gone in the morning, he thought, but for now? He’d enjoy being round and warm.
Delta leaned on his belly, holding himself up with one hand.
“Why don’t I help you to the lounge so you can rest the rest of this off while I prepare lunch? Can’t have you too full for my special stew~”
Dorian simply nodded his head, for as full as he was, a part of him looked forward to that stew.
