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“I just worry about her.” Lucifer Morningstar spoke his mind at the Hazbin Hotel’s bar. “I mean, there wasn’t a day that went by when I didn’t think about Charlie, even when I couldn’t bring myself to see her again.”
The king of Hell, the fallen angel, had been sitting upon the central stool at the establishment’s questionable amenity for a while, his feet barely brushing halfway down the metal beam beneath the velvety cushion, having to clamber up it thanks to his supremely short stature. It had been some time since he came out of his little world, stepping into the one his daughter tried to create. This hotel, her idea of rehabilitating sinners, he supported despite his deep-rooted fears. Knowing what it was like to be reprimanded for hopes and dreams, having long been casted out of his very home, it pained Lucifer to see Charlie’s ambition firsthand, no matter how much he wished to see her succeed with flying colours. Despite often being surrounded by the hotel’s cast of misfit characters, he found a quaint solace at the bar this very day, letting out his worries to its winged bartender.
“Her ambitions with this place are… admirable to say the least.” He carried on, looking behind at the grandiose potential peeking through the shoddy structure’s insides. “I know she means well. I can see that sparkle in her eyes, just like what I had once.”
Upon turning back around, the pale-white demon sighed, resting his head upon the countertop with his rosy left cheek squishing into the wood. His oversized hat stayed fixed onto his head of short blonde hair that glimmered beneath the bar’s yellow lights, his gaze so directly focused on his stationary little cup of apple juice that he failed to realize the bartender had not said a word in a concerning amount of time, like he was no longer there.
“But it’s hard to watch her march headfirst into something that has every intention of backfiring on her. As a father, it’s difficult to watch, no matter how passionate she is. Even as a sinner, surely you know what it’s like to want the best for the one you love.”
Seconds passed in silence. Confused, Lucifer glanced over at where the demonic feline had been standing behind the bar, only now starting to wonder why he had not heard a peep from him for a good few moments. To his surprise, however, he was instead greeted by the repugnant face of a demon almost as pale as him, his large, overstretched smile of sharp, rotten yellow teeth directly peering over the king’s slumped-over head, two eyes of devilish red beaming directly onto him.
“AAAAH!!” Lucifer screamed, shooting up from the countertop and sitting straight, now seated directly across from none other than Alastor, the king startled and shaken from his depressive mood by a presence he had already come to loathe.
The crimson-clad demon watched the fallen angel freak out, bent over behind the bar, his crossed arms resting on the countertop.
“Wh- where did you come from?” An irritated Lucifer asked the notorious Radio Demon, having been fed up with the overlord ever since they unfortunately met. “What happened to that kitty-cat who’s always here?”
“Why, I sent Husker away for a spell.” Alastor proudly yet vaguely answered in his transatlantic accent, words coated in a staticky sheen. “I couldn’t help but to overhear your confession of sorts, and wished to pay a visit. Believe me when I say that it is a privilege to watch Your Majesty sink so low… almost as low as that middling height of yours.”
“Seriously?” Lucifer replied, more annoyed than outraged. “Of all the low-hanging fruit you keep grabbing onto, it’s always about my height.”
“Or lack thereof, my liege.” Alastor gleefully rubbed it in, his smile subtly stretching wider, leaning ever-so closer towards the seated demon. “Tell me, were the branches of Eden’s trees short enough for you? Or did you have to get that darling Eve to pluck that forbidden fruit for you?”
“Oh, you’re going there, aren’t you?” Lucifer sarcastically asked the overlord, before launching into a brief tirade, both dark-gloved hands chaotically gesturing all the while. “You know, I would earn a lot more respect around here and throughout Hell if I was bigger. Height, stature, you name it. No more being made fun of, no more being a laughingstock, no more being looked down upon like some insignificant little… thing. I’m the king of Hell, damn it! My size should match what I’m capable of.”
All that spouting did was raise Alastor’s brow, knowing a poor choice of wording when he heard it.
“And what exactly are you capable of, you purveyor of rubber ducks?” The overlord teased him, his stomach practically laying on the counter from how far he leaned over it, as Lucifer raised his arms back in conversational defeat.
“I’ve had enough of this.” He threw at the Radio Demon as he turned around, hopped off the barstool, and landed on the carpet, proceeding to walk away and into the lobby.
Only a few steps later, a shadowy presence soared from behind him, Alastor teleporting in front of the devil to block his path, looming right over him, a few feet separating the two.
“Now wait just a minute, Your Majesty.” Alastor grabbed his attention, looking down at Lucifer as he huffed and crossed his arms. “Aren’t you capable of simply altering your appearance? You are a pesky little changeling, if I am not mistaken.”
“It’s not that easy.” The fallen angel told him, almost out of disappointment. “I can change what I look like, sure, but it doesn’t last. Sooner or later, my power forces me to revert back to… this.”
“Is that so?” The deer-demon asked to confirm. “I can surely be of some assistance to remedy this little frustration of yours. You did say you wished to be bigger, correct?”
Lucifer could not help but slightly yet quickly nod, admitting to this desire of his like a child sheepishly asking something from his parents. Still, skepticism pervaded him.
“Yes, but I don’t trust you.” He confidently replied. “Maggie warned me about you, not to make any of those deals you always offer to anyone gullible enough. And if Charlie trusts her, then so do I.”
“That prissy partner of Charlie’s does not know what she is saying.” Alastor smoothly eased Lucifer’s distrust, doubling-down on his sales-pitch, subtly getting more in the fallen angel’s face as he further bent down towards him. “Besides, I can bestow a form not only more befitting of your status, but one more everlasting. Think of it as a gift.”
Arms crossed and right hand rubbing his chin, Lucifer contemplated this opportunity before him. He knew Alastor was nothing but trouble. Hell, he could hardly stand him. Yet, temptation coursed through his angelic blood. It worked its way into his head as he considered the prospects of finally being as tall if not taller than so many of the sinners stuck in this infernal realm, smiling from the pride he promptly felt from merely thinking about it. Ultimately, after only several seconds, he relented.
“Alright.” Lucifer gave in, arms now properly crossed. “What have you got for me?”
“Oh, splendid!” Alastor giddily exclaimed, standing up straight and rubbing his hands together. “I’m glad you asked. Please, allow me a moment.”
With that, the deer-demon’s left hand grabbed the respective side of his crimson tailcoat, pulling it slightly forward while his right hand reached behind it, the overlord concentrating as the limb gradually vanished up to the elbow. As he fished around the space beneath his coat, Lucifer could have sworn he heard faint screams of the damned coming from the unseen realm, as though emanating from the demonic husk Alastor called a body. They briefly alarmed the uneasy king, wailing and moaning and yelling spilling into the lobby with each passing second across a short moment that quickly became agonizingly long; something he was unfortunately familiar with. Soon enough, at what felt like long last, Alastor retrieved a peculiar doll no larger than his own hand - the screams subsiding - being held before his chest by his elongated claws like a predator clutching its prey. The doll beared an uncanny resemblance to Lucifer, seemingly hand-stitched with black buttons for eyes, its attire a one-to-one replica of the king’s fanciful suit. Although impressed by its craftsmanship, Lucifer felt oddly creeped out by the doll, questioning if Alastor always carried that around wherever he went.
“Ah, here we are!” The Radio Demon exclaimed, holding the doll out for the king to properly see. “This shall be your ticket to a most wondrous paradise.”
“Did you make that?” Lucifer wasted no time asking, pointing at it while he stared up towards it. “It looks like those other dolls I’ve seen you playing with around the hotel.”
“What a ridiculous accusation to make!” Alastor fretted, huffing while maintaining his conniving composure. “As if I actually play with these things. As you’ll quickly find out, my liege, there’s more to this little vessel than meets the eye.”
He tilted the doll from side to side as he spoke, before pinching its boots with his left digits with his right ones clasped around the head, now holding it as though he was about to twist it off.
“You may hail from the heavens, but this might hurt just a smidge.” The overlord cheekily warned the king of Hell, watching as a bead of sweat ran down Lucifer’s head, second thoughts appearing to follow.
“Wait, what-?”
CRACK!!
A fierce, jolting crackle shot out from Lucifer’s spine as it proceeded to elongate within his own body, Alastor pulling on both ends of the doll which in turn affected the king. He groaned in pain, tensing up on the spot, horns growing from his head in response. But pushing past the ache, he suddenly realized he now stood a little closer at eye-level with the deer-demon, having only been as tall as his chest mere seconds ago. Ever-so briefly, the fallen angel marvelled at this slight yet substantial alteration, a tiny smile emerging from the pain. Immediately after he took notice of this improvement, however, Alastor gleefully stretched the doll again, watching him wince anew.
CRRICK!!
CRUNCH!!
SCRANCH!!!
Across several intervals, the overlord proceeded to vertically pull on the doll little by little in order to give Lucifer the boosted height he desired. His spine took the brunt of such drastic change, met with vibrating pangs of agony with each pull. Yet as he found himself not only equaling Alastor’s height but even surpassing it, the rest of his physique worked to fit in line with his towering stature. Every pull made him feel like he was in the middle of a chiropractic appointment, his suit magically stretching out to accommodate his taller figure. Even his limbs lengthened to keep up with his extended torso, a creaturely aura now surrounding the frailer demon. Meanwhile, words struggled to coherently escape from the king’s mouth, only grunts and groans managing to flee, his body twitching and bending amid this torturous process.
CRRAAACKLE!!
By the time Alastor ceased pulling on the doll like taffy, now over twice as long as when he first brandished it, Lucifer stood a few feet taller than the overlord, a living monument of who he was, now imposing and perhaps even intimidating, unless you got to know the guy personally after being shown his bottomless rubber-duck collection.
“Nhhhh… the least you could do is give me a proper warning next time.” Lucifer whined after getting over his bodily changes. “Something to indicate that you’re about to break my back into a million pieces. I did NOT need to be reminded of how old I am.”
“Oh, hush, Your Majesty.” Alastor simply replied, placing the lanky doll atop the palm of his left hand as his right arm proceeded to rest across his torso, sinisterly telling him “You should be grateful. I could have handled this through countless other methods, each more sickening and excruciating than the last… but I chose otherwise.”
Lucifer merely rolled his eyes at what the deer-demon had to say, promptly focusing upon what was now different. Looking down at himself, shifting his stance from side to side from where he stood, he was astonished by his taller frame. He held one arm out in front of him followed by the other, smirking at the sight of his limbs both upper and lower now long and spindly, feeling like he now fitted in better among the fallen sinners as their ruling king.
“Still, I can’t complain about what you’ve done.” The fallen angel sighed, grateful for what the Radio Demon of all demons had given him. “Now I can finally look down on all you sinners instead of the other way around.”
But just then, Alastor pointed his right index finger at the devil, silencing him as mischief flashed in his eyes.
“Ah ah ah~. Not so fast.” The red-clad demon playfully chastised, waving his claw before him. “You may be taller, but you’re not yet bigger, as you so humbly requested.”
“What are you talking about?” Lucifer shrugged, confused more than anything. “This is all I wanted.”
“Or so you keep telling yourself.” The Radio Demon suggested, his head craned back from looking up at the king. “This here was only half the fun. You said you wished to be bigger, yes? And now that I have given you exactly what you wanted, it’s now time to give you what I want.”
Holding out his right hand before him, Alastor conjured a bright green flame that lit his palm ablaze before vanishing just as quickly. In its absence, a tuft of cotton no bigger or rounder than a gumball manifested into existence, its fluffy consistency similar to cotton-candy. The smiling sinner proceeded to manipulate the lankier doll, causing its mouth to open wide, now full of frighteningly realistic teeth. He then stuffed the cotton-ball into it which disappeared from view… but not for long.
BLORP!!
“BUUAAAAAARP!!” Lucifer messily and abruptly belched as his stomach instantly bulged into a prominent potbelly, matching that of the doll, straining against his fitted suit as the rounded paunch gurgled with succulent heft.
“What the fuck did you just do to me?!” He angrily shouted at the deer-demon, looking down at and grabbing his newfound belly, squishing it, feeling its warmth through his clothes. “I didn’t ask to be fat.”
“You must be thick in the head.” Alastor teased the fallen angel, stepping backwards to create several feet between them. “Alas, it’s nothing to dread. I shall make the rest of you thick to match.”
From there, the sinner conjured another cotton-ball which he fed the doll, resulting in another surge in weight blowing up the taller king, messily belching again in response. His belly doubled in its protrusion, width, and girth, causing him to let go and for it to jostle, all while feeling his thighs thicken and rump soften, face bloating and hips distending, nervously looking in front of and behind himself to see his fresh helping of fat. Amid his fear, he felt unable to move, both boot-covered hooves planted to the floor as Alastor stood before him, his smile oozing with maliciousness. The overlord was quick to speed up the process, not only magically conjuring cotton-ball after cotton-ball to stuff the stout doll with, but making them bigger too, doubling and even tripling in size for his vacant claws to cram harder between the doll’s chubbier cheeks, mirroring that of the king’s. This phantom expansion made Lucifer feel like he was being fed with unseen food. Nothing visibly entered his mouth, but he could certainly sense it all plop into and weigh down his stomach, intensifying with each and every invisible morsel.
Unsurprisingly, his elaborate attire, a white suit littered with red patterns of light and dark shades, began to fall apart upon his ballooning figure. Both sleeves stretched and tore in several places, increasing as his arms grew twice as doughy with every surge of lard. His striped shirt split down the middle, giving way to an avalanche of belly that already inflated into a round, sagging mass instantly deeming him portly, a pair of swollen moobs resting upon it. His black bowtie sprung from his neck, spilling outward with rings of fat bigger than the last. Worse yet, his trousers suffered their own malfunction, with billowing hip-fat bulging through increasing gaps. Lucifer nervously stared down at them - soon eying his pockets that strangely began to bulge with outlines of several small objects - seeing so clearly how his attire was never meant for one as hefty as he now was, his spindly appearance long gone. Every second that passed, he could hear a cacophony of tears and rips and looming pings echo around himself, more and more of that pillowy pale fat of his spilling like a dam about to burst wide open. He felt suffocated in his suit, unsure whether to be further nervous by the fact he was getting heavier, or that his clothes were on the verge of leaving him for good.
BANG! BANG!
Just then, both pockets burst outward like party-poppers, sending numerous rubber duckies each different than the last flying out towards a surprised yet amused Alastor, the duckies scattered across the carpet in a half-circle formation.
“Nooooo!!” Lucifer shouted, his bloated hands having outgrown his gloves clasping the sides of his head. “My emergency support duckies!”
Despite already weighing more than enough to effectively replace a bed, he quickly bent over to try and retrieve them.
SCCHHRIIIP!!
A thick tear ran down the center of Lucifer’s cushiony backside, exposing his baby-blue underwear littered with yellow duckies all over the fabric, the pattern warping with every onslaught of adipose. To add insult to injury, all the seams of his failing trousers caved in and undid themselves at once, sending splitting flaps of fabric falling onto the carpet, his shirt and jacket following suit, leaving the embarrassed demon in only his patterned undies digging deeply between his asscheeks.
“Stop ruining my favourite pair!” Lucifer demanded, blushing across both baseball-sized cheeks, standing back up with his arms sticking to his sides. “How am I supposed to see all these duckies when they’re getting caught in these rolls?!?”
“You’re even more embarrassing than I thought.” Alastor teasingly chastised the king, still stuffing the doll with cotton-balls as big as its head, its jaw now freakishly unhinging itself. “But hold still. You still don’t look big enough to me~.”
For as formidable as he appeared upon being stretched into a looming being, Lucifer was as quickly rendered a pathetic blob barely capable of remaining upright on his own doughy legs, his ankle-fat obscuring much of his quivering hooves from the absence of his boots. Nevertheless, with all this weight hanging off his frame, he began to lumber towards the Radio Demon, wanting to put an end to all this before he could no longer move.
“Give me… huff… the doll.” Lucifer grimaced amid his exertion, slow, clumsy, pathetic waddles commencing with his swelling figure before another surge in weight caused him to halt and belch, continually growing louder and more powerful. “UAAAAARP!!”
“BWUUUURRP!!!” Another Hell-shattering burp immediately followed, this time from sheer fullness rather than another chunk of lard entering him from within.
As though silencing him, Lucifer found that he could not stop belching for as long as Alastor kept feeding the doll, the king’s hands clutching and squishing his stomach, watching and feeling himself widen, thicken, and round out. He ultimately only came a few feet closer towards the deer-demon, his efforts futile like his ruined suit, his underwear and hat remaining. Across the next few moments, Alastor filled the doll to its brim, ceasing once the fallen angel had been plumped up to his upmost liking. Stuffed full of cotton, the doll looked more like a jumbo-sized stressball wide enough to span both of Alastor’s palms, the overlord now holding it as such. Directly in front of him, Lucifer fully resembled a life-sized marshmallow that had blown up inside a microwave, his pillowy contents in desperate need of being smothered between gooey chocolate and crispy graham crackers. His doughy folds and rolls mirrored stacks of pancakes like those he dearly adored, hanging from every part of his body, jiggling from even the merest act of breathing, interfered by huffs and puffs from the king taking in his own sheer size.
“Wh- wheeze… what are you going to do? Cook and eat me?” Lucifer scoffed in his deepened voice, disgruntled by what had become of him. “You’ve clearly fattened me up enough to last you a while. I bet I’d be more caloric than anything else you’ve consumed. I’d destroy that non-existent waistline of yours.”
“Oh, nonsense.” Alastor waved his hand at the king, carefully returning the ball-shaped doll to the unseen realm beneath his coat, slowly approaching the overweight demon. “I have no intention of doing such a thing… no matter how savoury you would taste.”
In seconds, the overlord stood directly before Lucifer’s belly, his eyes locked upon it while the king stared down at him, hands on his girthy hips. He slowly crouched and opened his mouth, hands softly caressing that pale white tum. Using his long, slimy, fleshy tongue, Alastor licked around the widened circumference of Lucifer’s cavernous navel, the king softly moaning from the warmly wet sensation circling around it over a slow, torturous number of seconds.
“Mmmph… you seem to be enjoying this a little too much.” Lucifer addressed the Radio Demon, relaxing his arms, his fat-swaddled spine shuddering.
“That I am.” Alastor replied as slick as his tongue. “It’s not often that a poor sinner as myself can engage with Your Majesty so… personally~.”
Alastor fell to his knees, burying his face into the middle of Lucifer’s mattress of a gut, stretching his arms up and out on each side before planting them against his divine naked flesh. He moaned into the king’s deep, widened navel, claws rubbing and kneading the sides of his belly, twitching ears listening to every wob, glunk, gurgle, and groan that roared inside of it.
“Look at you…” the sinner began, voice muffled, “so soft and squishy, too big for your throne, let alone those pathetic undergarments.”
Lucifer could only moan, biting his plump lip, feeling himself give in to his giant, flabby figure and the attention it attracted.
Alastor further bent over, his miniscule butt and fluffy, wagging tail in the air, hands gravitating onto the fallen angel’s lower-body. Lucifer’s overstuffed thighs looked more than capable of crushing his apple-ornamented cane between them, if not the deepening crevice between his couch of an ass. No matter which and by such unholy grace, Alastor wanted to suffer that exact same fate. He kneaded both thighs deeply, even going so far as to pull on the king’s colourful underwear, feeling them strain and stretch, dying to embrace that enormous rump sticking out well behind the devil himself.
Looking down at the preoccupied Radio Demon, Lucifer felt his face grow hot, not used to being worshipped like this, putting it lightly unlike his corpulent frame. He could see Alastor’s eyes as he promptly rose. That look in them - he was beyond turned on - the dial overturned like those flashing in his eyes, hungering to embrace every pound of angelic yet devilish flab. But even he knew they had to go somewhere more private.
“Shall I escort you to my humble abode?” Alastor offered Lucifer, bowing and rising before him. “It would be best for no one else to see us like this.”
“Please.” The fallen angel smirked, gesturing forward. “Lead the way, my faithful sinner~.”
Both demons slowly approached the hotel elevators, Alastor walking before the waddling king who clearly outsized it several times over.
“Nothing to fear, Your Majesty.” Alastor assured Lucifer, turning around to face him and his worried expression. “I’ll make sure you fit… safe and snug~.”