Spike and guzma walkin’ round the streets of po town or somehtin looking for battles or trouble
There’s this consistent deep rumbling and gurgly sound
Guzma raises his brow looking at spike who’s busy staring out at the streets
Guzma tugs spikes hoodie up, startling him slightly, to expose his flat stomach rounded out slightly with bloat, gurgling and groaning with a light sheen of sweat across the skin
“So that’s what that noise is”
Spikes face goes hot and he tugs at his hoodie to pull it down but guzmas already got his hands either side the swell of his belly hands gliding over smooth warm skin feeling the churn under his palms and each shift as spike breathed in deeply
“Dumbass. Why didn’t you say ya felt sick?”
Spike scoffed “I ain’t sick” but guzma gently pressed his hand into his belly, sinking slightly into puffy flesh and urging a deep wet ‘gloOurwg!’ And a wet burp from spike who gave an uneasy cringe
“Asshole…” he mumbled
“Whatever, let’s go home before ya spew in the streets… I’ll get some flat soda for you”
Spike grumbled rubbing his belly gingerly from the pressure as he followed guzma back toward the shady house. Where he was put to bed, given flat soda and plenty of rubs to sooth his belly.
