Archive of Our Own

Vox doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the mirror, only dressed in his dark blue boxers. He turns to the side for the umpteenth time, staring at how his stomach spills over and hangs over his pelvis. 

He cups his hands underneath the navy blue skin, pressing it back into his gut, before letting it go and watching it spill over again. 

Vox quickly pushes down the feeling of pure nausea that’s threatening to overwhelm him. He blinks back the wetness building in his eyes and swallows the burning sensation in his throat. His stomach has never been this big before. When he was human, he was determined to keep a rigorous diet and exercise plan to keep his figure perfect. 

When he died, he was determined to keep that going. Especially when he realized he would need to build up his empire again. Vox has to look perfect if he wants people to respect him.

He had been doing well at that goal. Eating healthy, working out regularly—everything he’s used to.

Then he met Alastor.

Alastor is everything he’s wanted in a companion and more. In life, he thought friends were weak. A waste of time. Alastor quickly distracted him from that mindset and before he knew it they were closer than Vox has ever been with anyone else. 

Alastor takes him out drinking. They spend hours at the bar, simply talking about anything that comes to their minds. Vox will yap his head off, and strangely when it becomes Alastor’s turn, he never becomes bored. He listens with the same enthusiasm that Alastor gives him. Really, he’s even more excited to listen to Alastor speak.

He tells Vox all about his numerous, glorious kills. How he’s ripped apart hundreds of overlords, each more brutal than the last as Alastor grows bored. He’s ripped off their limbs, choked them with their own guts, turned them inside out—and Vox is happy to hear every last detail.

Alastor is impressive—inspiring, really. It makes Vox want to be more creative. He’s always tried to be creative with his kills, spontaneous as they are, but Alastor is so brilliant that it makes Vox want to be better.

Alastor takes him dancing, too. Usually after their drinks, Alastor will drag him to the dance floor and then they’ll spend hours spinning and moving and laughing. 

Vox always ends up being led during these moments, is always the woman in the dance, but he never seems to mind. He never minds anything that Alastor does. He lets himself be twirled, picked up, dipped. The alcohol always makes it much easier to manage anyways—it’s easy to forget that they’re both men. 

Alastor makes everything so easy to forget.

Which leads to the issue. 

Vox likes to eat, he really does. He enjoys being able to indulge himself in a home cooked meal. Some pastries. Really, he can never help himself when he’s offered. So when he started getting invited to Alastor’s home in order to eat dinner over drinks, Vox obviously agreed.

One serving always led to another, and then another, and then there would be dessert—Vox would eat every single bite offered to him. How could he not? Alastor’s cooking was delicious. It was so good and Vox couldn’t get enough of it. Especially when Alastor was spending so much time making everything! How could he waste anything?

Vox realized now that he should stop eating so much. He didn’t understand why he let it get this bad. 

He barely fits into any of his clothes. He threatens to pop the buttons of his shirts and he very well could be in danger of tearing most of his pants open. 

Vox grits his teeth as he stares at the way his thighs rub together. Even his chest is softer than it used to be—bigger. It’s repulsive. How could Alastor ever want to be around him when he looks like this? He’s sure, when he brings it up to the man, he’s going to agree that Vox should cut back. He’ll look disgusted and Vox will have the motivation he needs to regain control.

As much as he will mourn all of Alastor’s food, he has to stop indulging himself so much. Otherwise he’s going to become so huge that he’s unable to do anything but eat. How pathetic. Vox won’t let himself get so big and disgusting. 

Vox finally tears himself away from the mirror, looking at his closet. He finds the biggest shirt he has—still far too small—and sucks his gut in as he buttons it up. He ignores the way his stomach strains against the buttons and he forces some pants on. They only just barely are able to be buttoned and zipped up.

He ignores the uncomfortable tight, restrictive feeling his clothes give him as he resigns himself to what he has to tell Alastor during their scheduled dinner tonight. 

At least Alastor is a reasonable man. He will understand. 

That’s the only reason Vox isn’t tempted to call it off and start his diet in secret. He will let Alastor know first and foremost. To help speed the process up, later tonight he should also probably try to find some pills. He doesn’t care if they’re safe—just if they work. 

Vox needs to shed these pounds and he has to do it quickly.

One look at the clock in his dingy apartment tells him that it’s time to go meet Alastor. 

He conjures up enough magic to teleport to Alastor’s house, just outside the door, before he realizes that maybe he should’ve walked instead. He’ll start walking when he implements his diet. 

Vox takes a deep breath before he knocks on the door. He’s barely pulled his hand back to his side—he tries not to focus on how arm presses into skin now—before the door swings open. Immediately, he’s assaulted by the smell of delicious food and Alastor’s grinning face. 

“So punctual, my dear! Come in!” Alastor happily ushers Vox inside of the house, closing the door behind him. Vox takes off his shoes, placing them down in the cubby that was meant for him. He tried to not think about the fact he had his own cubby.

Vox ignores the way it’s hard to move his body now, gritting his teeth as he stands back up. When he looks over, he sees that Alastor has already set the table.

A pit of humiliation opens up in his gut as he can easily see which plate is meant for him. He looks like he’s eating for five people, while Alastor’s portion is normal. He’s so gross.

“Well? What’re you waiting for, Vincent?” Alastor asks, still grinning as eagerly as ever as he waits by the table. He’s not yet sitting. 

“It’s Vox now, Al.” Vox dismisses as he swallows the shame, making his way over to the table. Each brush of his thighs rubbing together only makes him want to crawl into a hole and die more. “Al, I need to tell y-” Vox attempts to start the conversation, but is only interrupted.

“You’ll always be my little Vincent, dear.” Alastor coos out, humming to himself as he walks behind Vox’s chair and pulls it out for him. “Or, well, I suppose you aren’t so little anymore, hm?” 

Vox tries not to cry as he carefully lowers himself down into the wooden chair. The way it creaks underneath his weight only proves to make him even more disgusted and ashamed. “That’s actually what I want to talk to you about, Al.” 

Alastor smiles as he plops down into his own chair—no creaking whatsoever despite the way he practically threw himself on it. His ears are relaxed lazily against his head as he picks up his fork and knife, cutting into the venison he lovingly prepared for Vox. “Oh? Do tell.” 

Vox keeps his hands in his lap as he bites his lip. He turns his gaze away, feeling too embarrassed to face him. “You know I love your cooking, right?” Vox begins his little speech off carefully, not wanting to accidentally offend Alastor. He’s definitely going to agree with the end result but he doesn’t want to make Alastor think his cooking isn’t good enough.

“Obviously.” Alastor says with a smug smile and a shrug. He eyes Vox’s plate for a moment before he looks up. “Why haven’t you eaten yet, Vincent? Surely you can multitask.” 

Vox sighs—he just has to rip the bandaid off. “I’m going on a diet. Not that I don’t adore your cooking, but that’s honestly the issue.” Vox looks back at Alastor to gesture towards himself, almost defensively. “I mean, look at me. I need to cut a few pounds. Or maybe a hundred.” 

Alastor remains silent as he looks at Vox. His ears have gone straight up on his head—as tense as his body. His pupils have shrunk down to pinpricks as he completely stills. 

Vox is beginning to think that he’s done something wrong. But what? All he’s done is share the truth. He hopes Alastor doesn’t think he hates his cooking. That’s the one thing he tried to avoid! “..Al?”

That seems to break Alastor out of whatever trance he was in. His body begins to move again, relaxing, but his ears remain completely straight on his skull. “When are you meaning to begin this.. diet, then?”

Vox relaxes. Oh, good, he seems to understand after all. He knew Alastor was reasonable. “Ideally, as soon as possible!”

“Hm.. but you’ll eat the meal I prepared for you, won’t you?” Alastor tilts his head slowly, “I went through so much trouble. I’d hate for you to waste it, you know.” 

Vox blinks, immediately nodding. Finally, he picks up his fork and knife and begins to dig in. It’s cooled off by now, but Vox eats it all the same. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to waste it.” Vox couldn’t help the small moan that escapes his mouth as the flavor touches his tongue. “Especially because your meals are so good!”

Alastor hums as he takes another bite of his meal, chewing it slowly. Vox scarfs down his meal, only pausing to chew when he has too much in his mouth. 

Despite the differences in their portion sizes, Vox still finishes first. He leans back in his chair, smiling with a satisfied look on his face. “Alright, I should probably stop there. Thanks for the meal, Al!”

“Oh?” Alastor sets down his utensils, standing up from his chair. He makes his way to the kitchen, bringing out another fully loaded plate for Vox. He places it next to the empty one. “I made this for you too, Vincent. Won’t you be a dear and eat this for me too?”

Vox stares down at the plate apprehensively. “I.. I don’t know, Al..”

“You can start the diet tomorrow.” Alastor says, a tad too firm in the stern way he tells Vox off. He sits back down in his chair, ignoring Vox’s startled look. “Now, eat.”

Vox hesitates only for a moment longer before he digs into the second plate. He inhales it much like the first plate, moaning and commenting on how delicious it is here and there. He managed to finish the second plate before Alastor too. “Alright, I’m done now. I can’t eat anymore.”

Alastor hums, smiling. “I’m awfully full, though, dear. Could you please finish off my plate?” Alastor asks sweetly, pushing it next to the other two empty plates that are piling on Vox’s side.

Vox hesitates, looking down at the plate and then up at Alastor, before he obeys. He finishes it off quicker, considering there’s so much less on it. Vox ignores the shame bubbling up in his entire body. He needs to stop now. This is getting out of control.

His stomach is pressing against the buttons almost painfully now. He’s scared that one of them is going to pop open. His pants are also straining painfully. He really needs to stop so he has time to digest everything. 

“Oh, perfect! Now it’s time for dessert!” Alastor happily exclaims as he stands from his seat.

Vox grimaces, “A-Al, wait, I don’t think-”

Alastor is in the kitchen before he can finish. He comes out with a full cake, setting it down on the table with two new plates. He places one in front of Vox, and then one in front of his own chair. He produces a knife, happily cutting his own piece.

Alastor gives himself barely a sliver of cake. He then proceeds to give Vox nearly a third of the cake with only one slice. It's a chocolate cake with white frosting. It was Vox’s favorite type of cake—one that he’s never been able to resist.

Vox can’t eat it. “Alastor, I really need to stop eating. I don’t have room for dessert.”

“Everyone has room for dessert, silly.” Alastor says with a chuckle.

“Look at how much you gave me! I’m practically eating the entire cake myself! This is why I need a diet.” Vox wants to get up and leave. Run for miles to burn off all of these calories. He needs to cut back.

So then why is Alastor seemingly insistent on not letting him do any of that right now?

Alastor simply grins wider, picking up Vox’s fork for him as he hovers next to Vox where he sits. He gets a big bite on the fork before pressing it to Vox’s mouth. “If you can’t eat it yourself, I’ll simply feed it to you. No need to think so hard, Vincent!” Alastor’s ear flicks, “You’ll start that diet tomorrow. Like I said. So no need to stop yourself tonight.”

Vox’s face is burning bright cyan. He feels his head heat up rapidly, his fans turning to hopefully reduce the damage. He might be melting his wires from how humiliating this entire situation is. He opens his mouth to deny, when Alastor shoves the fork inside.

Alastor covers his mouth so he is unable to spit it out. He still looks down at him kindly, “Doesn’t it taste good, Vincent? Just give in—one last time. Don’t you wanna celebrate the start of your diet?” 

Vox has no choice but to swallow the cake. It tastes addicting—exactly how he enjoys it. Alastor is as good of a baker as he is a cook. He still feels the shame swirling around in his body, but he nods his head, giving in.

Alastor pulls his hand back and prepares another bite for Vox, “Good boy.” Alastor easily praises as he presses the bite against his mouth again. “Don’t you wanna be good? Keep eating for me.” Vox takes the cake off of the fork, chewing and swallowing it. 

Vox continues eating each bite that’s offered to him. Even when his stomach bulges out even more, he continues to eat. When the slice is done, Alastor simply gets another for Vox—and before Vox knows it he’s eaten half the cake. Three quarters. Then the only piece left is the slice that Alastor had given to himself. 

His stomach feels painfully full. His gut aches and he feels that any sharp, fast movement is going to make him retch this all back up. He groans in pain, leaning back against the chair to give his protruding stomach room to not press against the table. “Am I done, Al..? I’m so full..”

Alastor coos, eying Vox up and down. He couldn’t help but lick his lips, his entire body blazing with desire. This is why he can’t allow Vox to go on the diet he seems to be so insistent to get on all of the sudden. “No, baby,” Alastor says cheerfully. He leans over to grab the last sliver of cake, sliding the plate over to the four other plates that Vox had. It made his gut pulse with need at how much Vox had eaten. “You still have to eat this.” 

Vox whines, but he picks up the slice of cake himself. He just shoves the entirety in his mouth, and Alastor eagerly watches as he chews and swallows. Alastor grins widely, wider than he’s ever felt the need to before. It’s entirely genuine as well. 

Alastor is so happy that he’s found a boy with such a large appetite. “Oh, such a good boy! You finished everything for me!” Alastor eagerly shows how proud he is of Vox, hand reaching up to pet at the top of Vox’s casing. “You deserve a reward. Don’t you agree?”

Vox can’t help but perk up at the mention of a reward. What might be the reward? He can’t really think of anything that would be given to him. Maybe more food? He hopes it comes in tupperware because he physically can’t hold anything more down. “Uhm.. sure, Al. What is it?”

“You have to get up. Can you get up?”

Vox flushes with embarrassment. “Obviously I can get up.” He braces his hands on the chair, before he tries to push himself up. He falls right back into the chair. He’s so exhausted after all of that eating that he cannot even lift himself up anymore. Oh no—this is mortifying. Alastor must be ashamed to even be around him right now.

Alastor is simply delighted that Vox cannot even get up from his chair. He’s more than happy to help. In fact, he prefers it this way. He hopes he’ll be able to stuff Vox so much that he won’t be able to do anything for himself in future. Everyday, really. A tentacle eagerly wraps itself around Vox’s large waist, effortlessly lifting him off of the chair. Alastor has carried far heavier than his precious picture box with these tentacles. 

He hums to himself as he takes Vox out of the dining room, through the living room, and down the hall to his bedroom. Their activities would be better suited towards the privacy of his room—even if no one is here to witness them. It’s better to be safe rather than sorry. 

Once inside, the tentacle drops Vox on his bed while Alastor closes and locks the door. 

Vox quickly sits up when he’s dropped on the bed, confusion and shame written all over his expression. Alastor finds it endearing how easy he is to read with that screen of his. “A-Al? Why are we in your bedroom?” Vox has never been here at all, let alone on his bed. This seems unusual. Why would a reward involve being in Alastor’s bedroom? Except..? 

But no, why would Alastor want that now of all times? Before today Alastor has seemed so uninterested. There’s no way he would be suddenly interested now, when Vox is the ugliest he’s ever looked in all of the time they’ve been friends. 

Alastor happily makes his way over to Vox, standing in front of Vox—whose feet were planted on the ground as he sat at the edge. “You must be really uncomfortable in those clothes, hm?”

Vox blushes more—if that’s even possible at this point. “N-No! It’s fine. They fit perfectly right now.” The last thing he wants Alastor to know is how badly they’re digging into his skin right now. It’s the most uncomfortable he’s ever felt.

Alastor coos, “No need to lie to me, baby..” He purrs out, hands finally reaching out towards Vox’s bottom button. “How about I help you out of this, yes? You’ll feel much better afterwards.” Alastor doesn’t allow Vox to wave away his hands before he undoes the very bottom button. Then, he goes up. He continues up until Vox’s entire shirt has been undone.

Vox really tries to suppress the look of pure relief on his screen. He is completely unsuccessful. He isn’t able to repress the moan that escapes his lips the most that his shirt is no longer digging into his stomach either.

Alastor can’t resist the urge to take his claws and gently massage them into the skin of Vox’s gut. His eyes completely dilate at the feeling of his soft stomach squishing beneath the pressure of his hands. “Oh, poor baby, this must be such a relief.. here, I’ll massage the ache better for you.” Alastor says as though this is not entirely for his own benefit. 

Vox cannot deny that, despite how shocking and embarrassing this is, it’s a huge relief to have Alastor massaging his upset stomach like that. He’s unable to help himself from relaxing, almost pushing his stomach further into Alastor’s claws.

Alastor could get lost in this. Squishing Vox’s gut every which way, feeling the skin beneath his palms—hot from how much effort he had put into eating all of his cooking. He’s only just barely able to stop himself from devouring Vox from how adorable he is. His eyes travel from Vox’s gut to his pants, seeing how they’re trapping his thighs. Well, that just can’t do. 

Vox squeaks as he feels Alastor’s hands on the button on his pants suddenly. He quickly waves them away, pushing himself away from Alastor and further onto the bed. “W-What are you doing?!”

“Helping you, baby,” Alastor says happily, eyes almost completely black. There’s only a sliver of red left. “Those pants are so tight on you, huh? It’ll be for the best to get them off of you.”

“L-Like I said, it’s fine! Everything is okay. Actually, I should really be heading home, so-”

Vox gasps as he’s suddenly shoved onto the bed, with Alastor hovering directly over him. One of his legs is pressed right between Vox’s thighs, nudging against the fabric restraining his crotch. One of his hands rests right next to his bulky television head, while the other pins both of Vox’s hands above his head.

“Do you not understand, Vincent?” Alastor asks suddenly, tone serious.

Vox’s eyes are wide, taking up the majority of his screen. What happened? What did he do? He’s not exactly fearful, but he is concerned. All he wanted was to go home so he could stop disgusting Alastor at last! Vox has to get home so he can finally start his diet. “N-Not understand what..?”

“I want you fat.” Alastor says simply, his weight settling down on Vox’s lap. Vox could overpower him easily, buck him off, but Alastor knows that he would never do that. He presses Vox’s wrists further into the mattress beneath them to remind him who is in charge here.

Vox’s heart drops. Is this a joke? It has to be. There’s no other explanation. “I-I.. that’s not funny..”

Alastor tilts his head, “I’m being completely serious with you, my dear. I don’t want you going on that diet.” Alastor practically hisses out the last word, the concept of it offending him. There’s no need to pretend to be supportive of his silly idea anymore. “I like you like this far more than when you were the same size as me, baby.” 

Vox grimaces, trying to squirm out from underneath Alastor. Despite how much larger he is than Alastor, he can’t bring himself to actually escape. It’s not like he’s going to be physically hurt. He just doesn’t understand why Alastor is telling him all of these lies. “Now I know you’re joking. How could this possibly be better than me being slim? It just isn’t. It’s gross.”

“Gross?” Alastor repeats, his voice oddly hollow.

“Yes—I’m repulsive. Eating all of that food shouldn’t even be possible! But I’m so fat that I can eat all of that food and still be fine now.”

Alastor scoffs, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “If you were really as unsightly as you say you are, I don’t believe I would be around you at all.” Alastor says dismissively, waving a hand as if to sweep the very concept under the rug. 

“It’s not like you care about looks.” Vox mumbles out, “You’ve never even hinted at the idea of finding me attractive before! At least not until today when I look like- like this.” 

Alastor takes a moment to admire Vox’s perfect figure. He slides his hands underneath the fabric still hanging on his shoulders, sliding it back and exposing more of that beautiful navy skin. He couldn’t help but bite his lip in an effort to restrain himself from eating Vox up. He adores every single pound that he’s put on his picture box. He did all of this. No one else. 

Vox was mortified. Not only was Alastor looking at him like he’s just a piece of meat, but Vox swears he sees more than just bloodlust in those dilated eyes of his. How could that even be? What about his appearance right now is so appealing to Alastor? He doesn’t get it. 

He shouldn’t look so lustful right now. In fact, he should be disgusted. He should have encouraged Vox to get on a diet yesterday. He should be scolding Vox for letting himself go. 

Instead, all Alastor is doing is making Vox even less motivated to fix his figure. If Alastor will give him this attention when he’s fat, then why should he deprive himself of it? He’s beginning to like how Alastor is looking at him and touching him. How controlling he was about the food earlier. How pleased he seems with himself as his eyes scan over every inch of skin.

He doesn’t seem grossed out at all. He looks like he’s just found the most attractive sinner in all of Hell. How is Vox meant to take this away from himself? He’s greedy. If Alastor likes this, then how can he stop?

“You can’t blame a man for knowing what he likes, my dear.” Alastor coos out, hands eagerly grabbing at Vox’s completely free stomach. Now he just needs to free the rest of his perfect body. “Now will you let me take off your pants? It’ll feel so much better~”

Vox shivered at the question, feeling his body grow even more hot. After a moment of hesitation, he nods. 

That’s all of the permission that Alastor needs, apparently. He eagerly moves off of Vox’s hips and lets his wrists go so he can move them back to the button of his fly. 

Vox feels Alastor quickly get rid of his pants. He unbuttons, unzips, and then he’s tugging his pants down and off of his body. Vox cannot help but feel relieved that they aren’t uncomfortably digging into his skin anymore. 

However, he’s hit with the embarrassment of only being in his boxers now. It’s all too easy for him to cross his legs, covering up what is the embarrassment tent in the front of the fabric. Vox opens his mouth, the apology on the tip of his tongue, before Alastor cuts in.

He chuckles, grinning wide, “Oh, there’s no need to be so embarrassed with me! I’m practically the one who made this body of yours anyways,” Alastor lightly teases with a pinch to Vox’s stomach, “There’s no shame in me seeing my own creation.” 

Vox only proves to get even more embarrassed. His gills flutter, letting out puffs of hot air frequently as his systems attempt to cool him off. Vox is sure that if he doesn’t calm down he’s going to melt something internally. “I-It’s just- I mean- we’re friends! Both men! This is w-weird, isn’t it..?”

Alastor hums, lightly gliding his claws over Vox’s thighs. “I, for one, don’t think it’s weird. If I don’t think it’s weird, then you agree, right?” 

“B-But.. I..”

“I know what’s best for you,” Alastor interrupts when Vox trails off, “I know that it’s better for you to stay fat for me. I know that you secretly like it, hm? I know that you trust me. So if all those things are true, then why have any doubts, hm?”

Vox can’t help but think that Alastor is right. Alastor has always known better than him with everything. He’s been around longer and he’s wiser. Vox tends to make stupid decisions. Alastor proves him wrong about a lot of things. So, if Alastor already knows what’s right, then Vox might as well just listen to him.

He trusts Alastor. He trusts that Alastor will know what’s best for him. If he likes his body when he’s fat, thinks it’s better this way, then surely he’s just seeing something that Vox isn’t. Maybe he’ll be kind enough to enlighten Vox someday soon. 

“..You’re right, Al. M’sorry for being so stubborn about all of this, then.” Vox lets his thighs fall open on the bed, one of them practically being the width of Alastor’s entire torso. 

Alastor’s claw teases the waistband of Vox’s boxers, happily eyeing the meat of his thighs. They, if nothing else, look comfortable. He wonders what they would feel like beside his body. He wonders if Vox would crush him. “It’s alright, mon doux garçon~ I know you can’t help it. That’s why I’m here to help you!”

Vox shivers as Alastor teases him, so close to getting him completely naked and yet still so very far away. “A-Are you gonna.. are we..?”

“Are we..?” Alastor prompts, wanting Vox to elaborate. He has his guesses, but he wants to hear it in Vox’s voice. 

Vox hiccups, feeling his throat start to burn at the humiliation that he’s been going through this entire evening. He just wants to win something. Can’t Alastor give him a break? Vox swallows down the urge to cry. “A-Are you going to.. f-fuck me..?”

Alastor can’t help but laugh, “Fuck you? What vulgar language, my dear!” Alastor mocks as he pulls his hands away.

Vox’s heart sinks. Had this been a joke this entire time, then? He knew Alastor was cruel, but he didn’t know that he would go through all of this effort just to break Vox’s heart. He is unable to stop the big, hot tears from building in his eyes. He covers his face before Alastor can see them fall. “I-I’m sorry f-for asking, I just- I thought..-” Vox thought a lot of things. Everything was apparently wrong.

Alastor gently pulls Vox’s arms away from his screen, and Vox can tell that his eyes are tracing the trail of tears. “You’re so helpless, mon chéri..” Alastor purrs out, using his thumb to wipe away some of the wetness. His touch is oddly gentle. 

Vox whimpers, trying to pull away from Alastor’s touch. “I-If I’m so helpless then I guess I should just leave.”

“Now when did I ever say that?” Alastor asks curiously, keeping Vox in place by tightening his grip on Vox’s casing ever so slightly. His struggles stop. “You’re so endearing, Vincent. I just wanna take you and bundle you up—turn off your brain and think for you. It’ll certainly do you some good with how much you overthink!”

Vox is unable to stop himself from leaning into Alastor’s hand. “T-Then why did you call me helpless..?”

“Because you’re adorable when you’re like this for me.” Alastor clarifies easily, reaching up to slowly stroke one of Vox’s antennas. 

Vox sparks, another whimper falling out of his lips. His antennas have always been very sensitive to touch. “I-I just.. I don’t understand what’s happening right now.” Vox whispers, “I come here sure that I’m going to leave and start my diet, and you say that you like me fat. Now you’re telling me I’m helpless. Do you like me or not?” Vox can’t help but fish for some kind of reassurance right now. 

“Oh, dear,” Alastor hums, “Your thinking is so black and white. Ever heard of the grey area?” 

Before Vox can reply, Alastor suddenly shifts their positions. Vox is horrified when he realizes that he’s being moved on top of Alastor, right on his lap, and he despite his struggles to stop the change—it’s all futile.

At least he is able to put most of his weight on the bed as he lifts his hips up, not wanting to completely crush Alastor. He’s like a twig compared to him. He doesn’t want to break him! “W-What are you thinking!? I’m going to h-hurt you, Al!”

Alastor does not look like he’s hurt. In fact, he seems rather annoyed that Vox is continuing to fight him on this. “You need to stop thinking, my dear. What can I do to make you shut off that large, quickly moving brain of yours?” Alastor wants Vox to have fun. If he keeps thinking like this, he’s going to send himself into a breakdown. 

Vox pouts, “This is serious! Let me up!” Vox tries to slide off of Alastor, but is stopped by how Alastor’s claws are digging into the meat of his love handles.

“I’m being completely serious, Vincent. How do we turn off your brain?”

Vox doesn’t know if that’s a good idea. Especially considering he really doesn’t want to hurt Alastor! But he seems so insistent on this. And hadn’t he just agreed that Alastor knows best for him?

Vox just isn’t sure what’ll happen if he gives Alastor full control like that. Will he abuse it? Take care of him? He can’t truly be sure. 

He wants to make Alastor happy, though. He wants to give in and let Alastor do what he wants without needing to get in his head about any of it. He doesn’t want to be a bother anymore, especially as he can see that he’s getting annoyed.

After a moment of hesitation, he finally speaks. “There’s a way to.. turn off my brain, but.. you’ll need a mirror.”

A tentacle suddenly shoots out towards a far corner of the room. There’s a desk, and in one of the drawers was apparently a handheld mirror. The tentacle comes back with it, handing it over to Vox. He takes it in his hand, feeling his nerves build.

“What do you need this mirror for?”

“It’s for one of my new powers.. I hadn’t told you about it because I wanted to practice beforehand.” Vox explains to Alastor quickly, unable to slow himself down even if he tries. He’s mortified. “I have the power to hypnotize anyone. I, uhm, discovered I can do it to myself too. It makes me really suggestible to anything I hear, and like you want, my brain kinda.. melts.” By the end of his explanation, he’s panting lightly for breath. 

There’s a look in Alastor’s eye that Vox has never seen before. He doesn’t quite understand what it is, and before he can truly study the flash, it’s gone. Replaced with Alastor’s obvious glee. “Oh, how perfect! So this hypnosis makes sure you’re unable to think for yourself?”

Vox nods slowly, shifting his weight onto either side of his knees as a nervous tick. He’s still keeping his weight suspended. “More or less.” Vox mumbles, “You just- you have to be careful, okay? Because as soon as I’m under, I’m basically entirely dependent on you.”

Alastor keeps his pure delight at those words to himself. Keeping the millions of ways he wishes to exploit this on the inside, on the outside, he remains appropriately fascinated by this power. “Oh, don’t worry, Vincent. I’ll take very good care of you.”

Vox slightly relaxes when Alastor confirms that he won’t take advantage of his vulnerable state. Except Alastor never said that. Nor were they making a deal currently. Technically, Alastor could do anything. Vox just seemed to want to believe that Alastor wouldn’t hurt him. “..Okay, I’ll believe you.” Vox mumbles. “Just, uhm, sit there and be patient, okay? It takes a second.” 

“I’ll wait here for as long as you need, baby.” Alastor purrs, eyes fully dilated and grin stretching so wide it looks almost uncomfortable. How could he not be so glad that his picture box is perfect for him, though? 

With that, Vox takes the handheld mirror and brings it up to his face. He closes his eyes, focusing on activating the power. He pushes any concerns to the very back of his mind. He trusts Alastor. Alastor said that he would be in good hands. There’s no need to worry about anything.

All he needs to do is activate the power and open his eyes. After that, he’ll be gone until Alastor breaks him out of the trance. 

Vox trusts that Alastor will do what’s best for him. 

When Vox opens his eyes, his gaze is immediately caught by the pretty red spiral. Everything else fades away. He tries to grasp at his mind, but it melts around his fingers. His muscles, which were previously tightly wound up, slowly begin to relax. Second by second, he rests his full weight on Alastor. 

Alastor watches with fascination as Vincent’s expression seems to melt. The moment that he activated the spiral and looked into the mirror, his other eye matched the first. After that, he got a first row seat to Vincent’s brain fading away. 

He couldn’t help the groan that left his mouth as Vincent started to put his weight on his body. Alastor adored every single second of this. He has no idea why Vincent would hide this delicious power from him! He should’ve been practicing on himself with Alastor there to supervise. He would’ve agreed in a heartbeat.

At least his picture box finally disclosed this power to him. Now he’s able to do what he’s needed to do the very moment that Vincent stepped inside of his home today. 

Alastor sighs happily as he feels Vincent finally rest his full weight on his lap. He could obviously break free whenever he wished, but the pressure was intoxicating. Not to mention how warm Vincent’s body was. Alastor would be content if they could just be like this for the next few hours. But no, he has work to do right now. He has to stay focused! Even if Vincent is so distracting right now. 

“Vincent, dear, can you hear me?” Alastor asks softly, holding Vox’s wrist—the one with the mirror—and taking it away from the front of his face. 

Vincent’s trance does not waver. His eyes seem lost for a second before they focus on Alastor, his expression reverent. Most importantly, though, utterly dependent. On Alastor. No one else.

It sends a shiver up Alastor’s spine. He never knew that he needed this so bad. “If you can hear me, nod your head, sweetheart.”

It takes a second for the command to process, but once he does, he immediately nods his head.

“Oh, good boy!” Alastor praises, making Vincent shudder. “You like being my good boy, hm? Well, if you obey me, I’ll make sure to praise you lots more.” Alastor promises happily. He simply can’t believe he got so lucky. What did he do to become so blessed with this adorable sinner on his lap? 

Well, whatever it was, he won’t take this for granted. “You trust me fully, don’t you? You’ll believe whatever I tell you. If I say something is reality, then it must be. Reply with your words.”

“Y-Yes, I trust you fully.. whatever you say is right.” Vincent says, his voice slow and slurred. It sounds like he’s having a hard time forming words coherently.

Alastor chuckles, sliding his hands down to dip them underneath his boxers at his hips. Vincent doesn’t react beyond a small whimper. “You know that I know best, so you know it’s safe for you to turn your brain off. You don’t need to think at all, hm? You’re helpless, stupid, and you love it because it means I can do everything for you.”

“L-Love being helpless and s-stupid for you..” Vincent repeats back to Alastor, everything about him syrupy slow. 

“You’re mine, baby. Say that back to me.”

“I-I’m yours..”

“Again.”

“I’m y-yours.” Vincent obeys Alastor without any hesitation. He wants to be good. He wants to please. 

“Whose are you?”

“Y-Yours.”

Alastor grins wide, slowly sliding off Vincent’s boxers. He forces his hips up, allowing the boxers to not get trapped. As soon as they’re off, he happily rests Vincent’s full weight on his lap once more. 

“Such a good, sweet boy for me. My precious baby!” Alastor coos at Vincent, looking at the cock currently trapped between both of their stomachs. It’s such an erotic sight for Alastor. He hums as he lifts up Vincent’s stomach so he’s able to thumb at his tip, grip loosely wrapped around the length. “Doesn’t this feel so good?”

Vincent pants, unable to do anything but take what he’s given. “Y-Yes, good..”

Alastor squeezes Vincent’s cock, “You know what’ll feel better? Getting impaled on my cock.” Alastor informs Vincent helpfully. “Being full feels far more pleasurable to you.”

He whimpers, still not moving to help himself, but his expression seems a tad more strained. “W-Wanna be full.. please? F-Fuck me?” 

“Oh, mon doux garçon, how could I ever say no to you?” Alastor grins happily. His tentacles lift Vincent up so his hands are able to make it to his pants, unbuckling his belt slowly. He takes a lot of pleasure in the way Vincent’s eyes are so desperately watching his hands, craving to be filled but unable to help himself. Alastor adores how Vincent can’t do anything without him currently. 

Taking his time, he unzips his pants. He pulls them down his legs, humming as he folds them up and places them aside. Then, he shrugs off his jacket, folding that and setting it aside. Once that’s done, he methodically goes from top to bottom with his button up. 

Only when he’s slowly stripped himself down does he finally peel off his boxers, revealing the cock that Vincent has is drooling for. Literally. He has a pool of drool pooling at the bottom of his casing. 

Alastor chuckles when he sees the desperate state that Vincent is in, letting his tentacle drop his picture box back down onto his lap. He rests his hands on his large hips, gently kneading the skin beneath his palms. “You have to do the work for me, baby. Bounce yourself on my cock.” Alastor happily orders. 

Needing to please, Vincent doesn’t hesitate and immediately gets about fulfilling his task. He needs to be filled up so badly and if Alastor wants him to do it himself then he will. He doesn’t bother with preparing himself, the need to be filled stronger. He lifts himself up just enough to grab Alastor’s cock, steadying it, before he begins to sink down.

Vincent lets out a shameless moan. He wasn’t ordered to be quiet, so he would be completely honest with his noises. There’s not a single thought in his mind to quiet himself down. Nor are there any thoughts in his head at all except for the ones that Alastor filled his head with. 

When he is completely filled up with Alastor’s cock, he takes a second to compose himself. Only for a moment. He places his hands on Alastor’s shoulders as he uses his legs to lift himself up just enough to drop back down onto his cock. Then he repeats that movement. Over and over again.

Alastor groans as Vincent bounces on his cock. He feels his hole greedily suck him in every chance it gets, squeezing around him. To say this felt good was an understatement.

He wasn’t someone that had sex often. In fact, he hasn’t had sex since he was a human. However, when Vincent looks like this, how is he ever meant to keep his cock away from his hole? He wants nothing more than to feed him for hours, sex being his only exercise, and then feeding him more so he gains back the calories that he lost. 

Alastor happily watched the show that Vincent provided him, all of his fat bouncing along with his movements. Especially his stomach. It jiggled up and down, slapping against his own stomach. Alastor adored it. He couldn’t keep his hands away, happily squishing his claws into the skin. It helped that when he pushed his stomach back, he was able to see just how hard and wet he had gotten Vincent from this.

He coos, giving it a few light strokes before going back to playing with his stomach. 

As Vincent bounces, though, something changes. Each bounce becomes more shallow as he isn’t able to lift himself up as high. It gets sloppy as Vincent is no longer able to do it as fast, or in any consistent rhythm. His body is sweaty and warm. He’s breathing much faster than he needs to, his gills practically gasping for air. 

Quickly, Alastor realizes that Vincent has completely tired himself out. He can’t even ride him to completion without getting exhausted. Oh, what a lovely surprise! Alastor’s cock twitches inside of Vincent. 

Alastor’s hands find Vincent’s hips again, forcing him down before stilling his movements. “Stop,” Alastor orders, and Vincent stops wiggling. “Tell me, sweetie, are you tired?”

“Y-Yes, I am..” Vincent’s voice was strained from the effort of trying to get enough air in his lungs to recover from that workout. One that he hadn’t even been able to finish. If he was able to think, he would be embarrassed. Vincent cannot think. All that matters is pleasing Alastor and he was told to stop so he is doing good. 

“But you still need to orgasm, isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh..”

Alastor tuts, “What an issue!” He says, playing around with Vincent. He isn’t able to keep it up, a wide smile growing on his face. “I suppose I’ll just have to help you, then. Since you’re so incapable of doing the work. That’s alright, baby, I’m more than happy to do everything for you~”

Vincent squeaks quietly as their positions are flipped over. He’s now on his back, legs raised up in the air and onto Alastor’s shoulders. His thighs are pressed against Alastor’s head, but he doesn’t seem to mind whatsoever. With this new position, Vincent feels Alastor even deeper inside of him.

Alastor rocks his hips up into Vincent, grinning wider at his unabashed moaning and whimpering. “Doesn’t this feel so much better? You like it when I take control. When you get to lay there and stop thinking, only needing to feel what I give you.”

Vincent is unable to respond as, when he opens his mouth to do just that, Alastor moves his hips back just enough to thrust into Vincent roughly. He just so happens to hit a particularly sensitive part inside of his body as well. All he’s able to respond with is a loud moan, hot tears filling in his eyes as more drool escapes his open mouth.

“Your head is so fuzzy, isn’t it? So empty. You’re so stupid for me right now and I love it.” Alastor growls out, beginning to properly fuck Vincent. Each time he thrusts inside, he hits the spot that makes his picture box see stars. 

Vincent’s pupils are completely hazy and fucked out, the heart shape that had formed now being no more as there is no sense in his pupils anymore. His screen is covered in his tears and drool, leaving him quite wet. His cock is in no better position—weeping all over his stomach where it hangs just below. 

Alastor’s cock twitches inside of Vincent. There’s no way he’s going to last much longer. He fucks him into the mattress harder, deeper, wanting to make sure he makes his home inside of Vincent. Especially while he’s in this state. “You’re close, aren’t you? So close. You’re going to orgasm soon.”

“When I tell you to, you’re going to have the best orgasm of your life, and then you’re going to drop out of the trance and go to sleep.” Alastor takes a break to groan through the pleasure. Vox’s body is truly the best it’s ever been. “You’ll remember everything that happened here except for this part, okay? You’re never going to want to go on a diet again. You like being big for me. It makes you happy to make me happy. Do you understand?”

Vincent’s moans only got louder the longer that Alastor was talking. Still, he heard every single word, practically hanging off of them to live. “Y-Yes, yes, I understand!” Vincent confirms through his whimpers. 

Alastor growls, satisfied. He had to make sure the silly thought of changing his body would never enter Vincent’s mind ever again. With that taken care of, Alastor finally gives the word. “Cum, baby. Cum with me.”

Vincent’s entire frame seizes up as his body and mind goes through the most intense, pleasurable orgasm that he’s ever experienced. His back arches, thighs squeezing against Alastor’s head as he screams his owner’s name out. 

Only when his orgasm is done does he completely crash—his body going limp at the same time his screen flickers into an error screen.

At the same time, Alastor finally finishes too. He thrusts a few more times inside Vincent before he buries himself as deep inside as possible, filling his picture box up with his release. He rocks his hips into the pleasure, only stopping when the high ends. 

It’s then that he realizes that Vincent crashed. Well, he supposes that he might’ve overdone it a tad to make it the most pleasurable orgasm he’s ever experienced. Still, he thinks that was a good time for Vincent! He will have to check in when he wakes up.

Until then, Alastor gets to nuzzle into his perfectly snugglable body. He will clean them up soon. For now he wants to enjoy himself.

And enjoy himself he will. 

When Vox wakes up, everything in his system feels oddly light. Normally, he wakes up with a bit of a lag. Some glitches in his system that he conjured up in his sleep. However, none of that happens to him when his screen turns on. He is perfectly functional.

He’s also oddly comfortable. Vox opens his eyes, lifting his head to see that he’s not in his bedroom.

He panics for a good second before the memories finally start flooding in.

Vox is utterly mortified. He knows that he agreed to being mindless for Alastor, but he didn’t think that he would do all of that! He really hopes Alastor isn’t put off by him now. That’s the last thing that he wants. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Alastor doesn’t like him anymore. 

“Oh, you’re awake, good!” Alastor says cheerily as he walks into the room. He’s holding a bowl—one that smells delicious. When Alastor notices him eyeing the food, he eagerly goes over to hand him the bowl and fork. “It’s my mother’s jambalaya recipe. I figured you needed a hearty meal after such a night!”

Vox’s face immediately refocuses back on the humiliating night they shared after Alastor’s teasing comment. “I can’t believe that- why did you indulge me in that way?”

“Speak and eat.” Alastor reminds Vox, and he obeys. He would never turn down one of Alastor’s delicious meals. There’s no need to. After Vox has begun to eat, Alastor returns to the point. “Why wouldn’t I indulge you, dear? You were too delectable to resist! Not to mention the fact that you needed some help to stop overthinking.” 

“Well, y-yes, but-” Vox pauses to take a bite. He chews and swallows before he continues, “But it’s just embarrassing! I shouldn’t have l-liked that so much. It’s unnatural to want to be controlled.” 

“Oh, but on the contrary!” Alastor happily disagrees, “I’d say it’s rather perfect. I very much enjoyed controlling you, and if you liked it, then there’s no issue with it whatsoever. In fact, we should do such a thing more often.”

Vox frowns, swallowing another bite of the delicious food that Alastor made for him. He truly can’t get enough of his cooking. “What would other people think?”

“Nothing but the fact that you’re brilliantly capable, mon chéri. This can be our little secret if it makes you more comfortable, hm?”

Vox visibly relaxes, “T-That sounds good. If it’s just between us, then.. I suppose it’s okay. If we both like it.”

Alastor takes the empty dish from Vox when he finishes, chuckling. “See? You understand. I knew you could see reason.”

“I always see reason!”

“Hm, I suppose you do. It’s not like you're planning to go on a diet, yes?”

“A diet? Why would I ever go on one of those?” Vox asks, confused. Logically, he can see the need for one. He’s kinda big. But he would never survive—he loves Alastor’s food too much. Why deprive himself of that joy?

Alastor chuckles, turning away before Vox can see his look of pure delight. His voice hides it with fake, composed calm, “I was just teasing, Vincent. Saying something absurd to prove my point.”

“It’s Vox now, Al.” Vox corrects with a small huff of air.

Alastor hums, turning his head back to Vox. “You just relax there, yes? I’ll go make you some more food.”

Vox blinks, “Ah, well.. okay, Al. I’ll wait here.”

“Perfect! Good boy!” Alastor happily praises, leaving before Vox can possibly argue with him about such a mortifying compliment. 

Vox’s antennae spark with embarrassment as Alastor leaves. He feels as though something is a tad wrong, but he brushes it off to the fact that he was hypnotized last night. He always wakes up feeling at least a little strange. It was only Alastor—he wouldn’t mess with anything. 

So, Vox relaxes into the bed, one arm resting over his stomach and the other behind his large head. Before he knows it, his eyes have closed.

It’s hard to stay awake when he’s in such a safe place. Besides, what better did he have to do?

It’s better to sleep. That way he gets Alastor and the food faster.

Really, it’s genius. 

He’s glad to have someone like Alastor in his life. Even if he felt oddly distressed yesterday, everything is completely fine now. Alastor is so kind. He’s truly blessed to have him. 

Also his cooking. 

Vox really loves his food.