Another old Patreon story, this one served as a formal introduction to my cute gluttony demon character, Valoch! rovest was the first to come across Valoch when he decided to reform, and it seems both of them bit off more than they could chew. Illustrated by cedricbrowning, who is currently in contact with an exorcist.
Artwork © cedricbrowning
Rovest © rovest
Valoch & Story © c'est moi
In hindsight, it probably shouldn’t have taken countless millennia to figure out, but Valoch realized that Hell wasn’t that nice a place to be. Assigned to the Third Circle, Valoch’s job was simple; punish the gluttonous. In the muck and mire of the Third Circle, pounded by a ceaseless, acrid rain, the sinners were weighed down by their appetites, and Valoch was always there to tempt them with delectable food always just out of reach before they were dragged back into the cesspool, or stuff them with so much sludge and slime they were fit to burst, dragged back into the mud, sunk by their extra weight. Once, it had been fairly fun; Valoch and his co-workers had particularly enjoyed tormenting Nero, until he was reassigned to the Seventh Circle for his pride, and it was always a laugh to tease Jeffrey Dahmer with a gingerbread man, but as time began to weigh on him, the gluttony demon soon realized it had been close to ten thousand years that he had seen a vista that wasn’t dominated by fire and brimstone, or spent a night that hadn’t been punctuated by the shrieks and wails of the damned. Being evil wasn’t nearly as much fun when he realized that it left him with no friends; sure, Cerberus, who guarded the Third Circle, was a sweetheart, and the centaurs in the Seventh Circle were always up for a good time, but after tormenting the damned for ages, no one really seemed happy to see the demon.
A change was needed; Valoch needed a vacation, an extended one. It just wasn’t fun being evil anymore. Maybe he could try being good? It was an idea that stuck with him, but Hell was not the place to find a mentor on morality. No, if Valoch wanted to learn how to do good, there was only one place he could go: the mortal plane. Thankfully, his immediate supervisor was a Sloth Demon, making the small theft of a summoning circle almost insultingly easy. Drawing out the pattern in the floor, Valoch braced himself.
“Alright, here goes nothing,” he muttered as the circle sparked to life. On the other side shimmered a vision of tall buildings and stone streets, and the sky was the weirdest color. Was that the “sun” he had heard so many of the residents mention? All blue and white, it was awfully pretty.
“Heh. This’ll be fun!” Valoch grinned, dimpling his cheeks as he took one last breath and jumped into the circle, and almost instantly his round torso got wedged between the chalk lines, leaving him stuck.
“Aw, c’mon! You’ve got to be kidding me…” Valoch muttered, kicking legs already in the mortal plane as he tried to suck in his gut. All the food he teased the gluttons with had to go somewhere, after all- and in Valoch’s case, it went straight to his hips.
He could feel the warm air on his bottom half, and then he felt two hands wrap around his ankles. “Hold on!” a new voice shouted, muffled by the borders of two separate dimensions between them. “I’ve got you, little guy!”
“Hey!” Valoch shouted as he was tugged on. “Quit pullin’, you’re gonna snap off my tail!” On the other side, he was still being tugged, hard. “I said quit it!” the demon whined, kicking his legs.
“What you doin’?” a loud, lumbering voice demanded. A huge, red musclebound demon, a Wrath Demon, judging by his extremely dim-witted sounding voice, was trundling towards him. “You tryin’ to escape?” he demanded.
Valoch’s face fell as he was filled with terror. “Pull me out, pull me out! Faster!” the gluttony demon squealed, trying to suck in his gut. Finally, like a cork popping out, Valoch fell into the mortal plane, one last horrifying look of the wrath demon roaring and charging after him before the summoning circle fizzled out. Valoch slammed into his rescuer, the both of them piled on top of one another.
The demon groaned, rolling off the other male’s body as he plopped on the ground. “So, uh… thanks.” It took all he could to just sit up enough to see past his own belly to look at his rescuer; tall and burly with a noticeable paunch around his middle, he was covered in thick brown and cream-colored fur, with a wolf’s tail and long, lapine ears poking out over a mess of chestnut brown hair. “...What are you, exactly?” Valoch asked, a little guarded. The last time he had been on the mortal plane, he had been helping the boss with a scheme to tempt a king into gluttony, and that had been millenia ago. He wasn’t entirely sure what was normal for mortals, these days.
“I’m Rovest, a harehound.” He knelt down, offering his hand, then arched his brow, looking over to the wall he had just pried the demon from; there was no hole, not even an indent or crack.
“Though, I think I could ask you the same question.”
Valoch had no way of knowing how much he stuck out amongst mortals; Gluttony Demons were never really destined to rule Hell, given most of them were around three or four feet tall and nearly spherical. His jet-black, spherical gut was dominated by a large pentagram stretched across the canvas of his belly, hovering mere inches from the ground. He was almost entirely black, save for streaks of neon green, from the two comically small wings and stubby spines on his flabby back to his glowing eyes and spots on his round, cherubic cheeks. Rovest had to admit, he was almost cute, with an otter-like face and big button nose.
“Uh…” Valoch tapped his fingers together, tucking his chin into the fat folds around his neck. “I’m… on vacation? I’m from out of town.”
“I can tell, but you were just stuck in the wall!” Rovest had to chuckle, shaking his head. “You can tell me the truth, I’m just trying to help.”
“The truth…” Valoch muttered, looking away from Rovest. The truth wasn’t really a strong suit for him. Of course, what was he going to do now? His extended vacation had just been made a permanent one; there was no way he could go back, not after the Wrath Demon saw him escape. “I’m looking for a new, uh, job.”
Rovest crossed his arms. “On vacation?”
“Hey, I don’t judge how you spend your free time,” the demon said snappily, a scowl across his face. Who did this mortal think he was, anyways?
The harehound held up his hands. “Fair enough. But if you’re all good and don’t want to tell me more, I guess I’ll be on my way.”
Valoch huffed a bit as Rovest left, still frowning, but it quickly melted away. Rovest had helped him, and didn’t ask for anything in return. That was a good thing to do, right? “Hey, uh, Rovest?” The demon puffed as he waddled quickly to catch up with the harehound, like a black and green beanbag chair rolling after him. “I want to thank you.”
“Oh! It’s nothing, I’m happy to help,” the taller mammal grinned.
“No, no, I want to thank you… but I don’t know how.”
The harehound tilted his head quizzically. “Well, you just did, didn’t you?”
Valoch huffed, tapping his fingers again as he looked around nervously. “I came here to learn how to be good.”
Rovest scoffed, looking around at the cityscape around them, looming skyscrapers and loud traffic mere feet away. “And you came to Chicago to learn how to be a good person?”
Valoch perked up a bit at that, because he definitely knew Chicago. Al Capone couldn’t stop talking about it; apparently, he never could quite get Chicago style pizza right. “Well… yeah, sure. Is there a better place?”
Rovest tried holding back the long, extensive list of places better for such a thing, but waved it off. “Being a good person isn’t too hard. You just try to make people happy.”
“Hmm.” Valoch was still frowning, trying to think. “Okay, so… what would make you happy?”
The harehound chuckled, patting his well-fed middle. “Honestly, I’m here as a tourist, and I heard Chicago makes some amazing hot dogs, and… uh, what’re you doing?”
Valoch grabbed the sides of his bulbous belly when Rovest mentioned hot dogs, then began to shake, all his flab jiggling until the pentagram on his front began to glow. Instantly, a big footlong, piled with relish, onions, and mustard appeared in the demon’s waiting hand. “Like that?” he asked, holding it up to Rovest. Again, Al Capone was very specific about what went on a Chicago hot dog while he was being tortured.
The harehound’s jaw dropped as he took the hotdog in hand. “How’d you…?” he trailed off, the tantalizing smell hitting his canine nose. He inhaled, and was instantly overcome with hunger. Almost animalistically, he wolfed it down before he knew what happened.
“Good God,” Rovest gasped, still licking the mustard from his fingers. “That was the best hot dog I’ve ever had!”
Valoch instantly beamed, his smile dimpling his cheeks. “Really? You like it?” This was exciting; no one had ever complimented his food before! He shook his belly again until his pentagram glowed, and made another hot dog appear. “Here! Have another!”
Rovest’s eyes went wide, but already, his mouth was watering as he picked up the hotdog, eating it with equal abandon. Was he really that hungry? “Wow, that’s… that’s amazing. Where’d you learn to do that?”
Valoch shrank a bit, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, everyone back in my, uh, department can do that.”
“Really?” Rovest laughed again. “It’s so weird. I always liked the idea of a green star… I’d want one a little like yours, right here.” He patted the middle of his belly. “Just, without the circle and everything. Ah, you probably think that’s weird.”
“I’ve heard worse…” Valoch said softly. Rovest flinched a little as the demon suddenly moved a lot faster than he should have, zipping behind the harehound and clambering up his back, perched on top of his shoulders. Strangely enough, he felt incredibly light. He should feel like he had three bowling balls balanced on his head, not wearing a particularly fat turban.
“Could… I come with you for a little bit?” Valoch asked.
“Throw in ten more of those hot dogs, and you got a deal-” Rovest realized his mistake as another ofthe hot dogs was shoved in his face, with two more in Valoch’s hands. “Buddy… it was a joke. I didn’t mean right now.” Still, he was already helping himself to a third hot dog. “So, you got a name?”
“Uh, Val works.” The demon grinned a little, riding the harehound through the city. Had he just made a friend?
By the time Rovest carried Val to Millenium Park, the harehound had to sit down, his legs splayed out as he cradled a belly stuffed with ten footlongs. “Oh, wow… that was a good lunch,” the harehound mumbled, gently massaging his distended middle.
“So… you’re happy? I did good?” Val asked, his eyes pleading.
“Oh, of course you did! See? It’s not so hard to be good, right?” Rovest patted the seat next to him, and helped the demon clamber up, his fat little legs kicking in the air as he tried to pull himself up into his seat. “You could do all kinds of good things with that belly of yours, like help out a soup kitchen.”
The otter-like demon gave another dimpled smile. “That could be nice, yeah…” He looked up at Rovest, and shook his belly again, and Rovest was taken aback as a chocolate shake practically the size of Valoch appeared, the demon struggling to balance it in his fat little arms.
“Val, what’s this for?” Rovest grunted under the weight, straddling the massive shake in his lap.
“Well… you’re supposed to have something to drink with food, right? That’s how a proper meal works? Since you had ten hot dogs, you should have ten drinks, and I…” Valoch’s face fell a bit. “Oh… you don’t like it?”
Rovest sighed. He swore the demon’s eyes were growing larger the longer he looked at him; he just didn’t have the heart to say no to a face like that. “Oh, it’s not that, I just…” Resigned, he reached up for the straw and took a drink. “See? I’m drinking it. Just don’t expect me to finish this off…” It was undeniably sweet and cool, and one sip became two, then three, and soon, that gnawing hunger latched on to Rovest as he tipped the massive glass back, taking full, deep swigs of the thick, heavy drink.
“Wow, that was… really, really good…” Rovest rumbled, the harehound’s belly filling his lap, stretching out his shirt as it sloshed heavily. Then it growled. “Why don’t you come with me to my hotel? We can hang out, maybe have dinner, too.”
Valoch liked the sound of that, the demon nodding enthusiastically. He really had made a friend! He clambered up Rovest’s back again, the harehound carrying him off to his hotel. Once they were in his room, Valoch hefted himself up into an armchair, smiling up at Rovest, but the enlarged hybrid had a hungry look in his eye. “So… I was thinking. Could you make me like, a big, deep-dish pizza, Chicago style?” the harehound asked, rubbing his hands together.
The demon cocked his head. “But… aren’t you still happy?”
“Of course I am!” Rovest stopped, suddenly frowning. “Oh, geez, I’m sorry, Val. I’m taking advantage of you. How about this- what would make you happy?” The harehound was actually using a great amount of willpower; Val could hear his stomach rumbling from where he was sitting.
“What’s that noise?” He asked, cocking his head again to the other side.
“I-it’s nothing,” Rovest assured him. “Just, y’know, people’s stomachs need time to digest…” his stomach, as if on cue, growled louder. “Okay, so, if it’s not too much to ask… maybe just a snack, or something?”
“Uh, sure.” Valoch shook his belly, not entirely sure what a snack entailed. He soon held two cheeseburgers in his hands that Rovest snatched greedily, quickly wolfing them down.
“Mmph… more!” the harehound demanded, before shaking his head. “Gosh… I’m sorry again, man, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Valoch’s eyes slowly widened as a thought struck him. He had been making food like they had in Hell; nothing ever sated the gluttons’ hunger, it wasn’t supposed to. It was supposed to make it even worse, and he had given more food to Rovest than he would in two or three days at work. That wasn’t good at all. The demon was crestfallen; he thought he was doing so well, too!
“Aw, Val, don’t look at me like that, I’m sorry…” Rovest patted him on the shoulder. “Look, how about…” the harehound’s round gut, already large enough to push his shirt up around his chest, growled angrily again. “....how about we go to a buffet, or something? T-that way, you don’t need to make anymore food, and I can just… eat all I want.”
“No, no…” Valoch sighed, puffing up his doughy chest as he tried to stand up straight. He had heard of this before, responsibility, he thought it was called? “I’ll make you anything you want.” He smiled bravely. He needed to sate his new friend’s hunger, then he’d be happy again. “I’d be happy to.”
“Oh, great! So… about that deep-dish pizza?”
It was just a minor adjustment, really. Valoch had to stop thinking about Hellish food and focus on the food they had in the mortal plane as he shook his belly, summoning a Chicago style pizza the size of a truck tire. Rovest took each huge, greasy slice and swallowed them whole, his shirt finally tearing as it struggled to hold his burgeoning bulk. As he ate more and more, Rovest’s legs, already looking chunky, began to wobble from supporting his increased weight. More pizza came, and the harehound’s legs gave out, landing on the floor with a heavy whump that made his thick, round rump jiggle.
“How… how’re you doing?” Val asked, catching his breath. He had never summoned up this much food, and the pentagram on his belly sparked from being overworked.
Rovest’s hands rested on his gut, now the size of Valoch. With his legs splayed out, it was quickly reaching his ankles. “I could still go for more.”
Valoch nodded, then took a deep breath as he got back to work, shaking things up with one more giant pizza, then juicy, double bacon cheeseburgers, burritos thick as Rovest’s arms, whole chickens, anything he could think of to shove into the harehound’s gaping maw. His body was growing before Valoch’s eyes, his new friend now double his size, and looking to double that as he went on. Rovest barely said anything, his eyes were dilated, but he looked… happy? Valoch wasn’t sure, but he knew he was getting tired.
Rovest was taking deep breaths as he cradled his huge gut, billowing cheeks framing a fattened face crowning piles of neck fat that melded into a chest bigger and softer than the pillows on his hotel bed. “Ough…” he groaned. “So, Val… I think I’m getting there. But do you think I could have just a little dessert? Some ice cream?”
The demon braced himself, his pentagram flickering. “Alright. Just… get ready.” Valoch focused, then climbed up the small, tan hill that was Rovest’s belly, struggling under his own weight as his soft belly mashed against the harehound’s. Finally, he was at the apex, in arm’s reach of Rovest’s waiting maw. “Here goes,” Valoch said, then shook his belly, summoning a massive ice cream sandwich, with two cookie cakes for bread, and scoops of ice cream big as Rovest’s head mashed together, with a mountain of whipped cream crowned by a cherry. So huge was this treat, it forced Valoch off Rovest’s belly, the demon sent sliding off the rolls of fat.
“Oooh!” Rovest’s eyes went wide, like he was seeing some sacred treasure. Excitedly he latched on to his lavish treat, and began to devour it with renewed gusto. He wallowed into the cold, creamy goodness, half a dozen sweet flavors dancing on his tongue. His belly was surging forward like an advancing army, pressing against Valoch’s back as that mountain of blubber pushed past his feet, his busy arms flapping with thick deposits of wobbly fat, thighs and legs thicker than Valoch’s gut swallowing his now-useless feet. At this rate, Rovest was in very real danger of taking up the entire room. But, halfway through his dessert, it seemed like he was finally sated, leaning back with a contented sigh as reams of back roll fat all bunched together.
“Now this is dessert,” the harehound groaned pleasurably as he leisurely nibbled at the remains of his ice cream treat. “Val? You still there?” he asked. Rovest couldn’t see the demon past the oceanic mass of his gut, a landscape of soft, warm fat, as if the harehound was swaddled in the softest pillows and blankets.
At the periphery of his planetary belly, Valoch, too, was groaning. He had never worked that hard, summoned up that much food in one go. The neon green of his pentagram was faded, sparking slightly. He was going to need a long nap after this; he could already feel his eyelids grow heavy. “Yeah, I’m here! So… you’re happy now, right?”
“Happy? Heh, definitely! Fat and happy,” Rovest declared, thumping his gut and sending ripples all the way down to the demon resting against his overly plush form.
Fat and happy? Valoch liked the sound of that as he nodded off to sleep. He felt like he had done good, and on his first try, too! Maybe there were other people he could make just as happy as Rovest…
Artwork © cedricbrowning
Rovest © rovest
Valoch & Story © c'est moi
In hindsight, it probably shouldn’t have taken countless millennia to figure out, but Valoch realized that Hell wasn’t that nice a place to be. Assigned to the Third Circle, Valoch’s job was simple; punish the gluttonous. In the muck and mire of the Third Circle, pounded by a ceaseless, acrid rain, the sinners were weighed down by their appetites, and Valoch was always there to tempt them with delectable food always just out of reach before they were dragged back into the cesspool, or stuff them with so much sludge and slime they were fit to burst, dragged back into the mud, sunk by their extra weight. Once, it had been fairly fun; Valoch and his co-workers had particularly enjoyed tormenting Nero, until he was reassigned to the Seventh Circle for his pride, and it was always a laugh to tease Jeffrey Dahmer with a gingerbread man, but as time began to weigh on him, the gluttony demon soon realized it had been close to ten thousand years that he had seen a vista that wasn’t dominated by fire and brimstone, or spent a night that hadn’t been punctuated by the shrieks and wails of the damned. Being evil wasn’t nearly as much fun when he realized that it left him with no friends; sure, Cerberus, who guarded the Third Circle, was a sweetheart, and the centaurs in the Seventh Circle were always up for a good time, but after tormenting the damned for ages, no one really seemed happy to see the demon.
A change was needed; Valoch needed a vacation, an extended one. It just wasn’t fun being evil anymore. Maybe he could try being good? It was an idea that stuck with him, but Hell was not the place to find a mentor on morality. No, if Valoch wanted to learn how to do good, there was only one place he could go: the mortal plane. Thankfully, his immediate supervisor was a Sloth Demon, making the small theft of a summoning circle almost insultingly easy. Drawing out the pattern in the floor, Valoch braced himself.
“Alright, here goes nothing,” he muttered as the circle sparked to life. On the other side shimmered a vision of tall buildings and stone streets, and the sky was the weirdest color. Was that the “sun” he had heard so many of the residents mention? All blue and white, it was awfully pretty.
“Heh. This’ll be fun!” Valoch grinned, dimpling his cheeks as he took one last breath and jumped into the circle, and almost instantly his round torso got wedged between the chalk lines, leaving him stuck.
“Aw, c’mon! You’ve got to be kidding me…” Valoch muttered, kicking legs already in the mortal plane as he tried to suck in his gut. All the food he teased the gluttons with had to go somewhere, after all- and in Valoch’s case, it went straight to his hips.
He could feel the warm air on his bottom half, and then he felt two hands wrap around his ankles. “Hold on!” a new voice shouted, muffled by the borders of two separate dimensions between them. “I’ve got you, little guy!”
“Hey!” Valoch shouted as he was tugged on. “Quit pullin’, you’re gonna snap off my tail!” On the other side, he was still being tugged, hard. “I said quit it!” the demon whined, kicking his legs.
“What you doin’?” a loud, lumbering voice demanded. A huge, red musclebound demon, a Wrath Demon, judging by his extremely dim-witted sounding voice, was trundling towards him. “You tryin’ to escape?” he demanded.
Valoch’s face fell as he was filled with terror. “Pull me out, pull me out! Faster!” the gluttony demon squealed, trying to suck in his gut. Finally, like a cork popping out, Valoch fell into the mortal plane, one last horrifying look of the wrath demon roaring and charging after him before the summoning circle fizzled out. Valoch slammed into his rescuer, the both of them piled on top of one another.
The demon groaned, rolling off the other male’s body as he plopped on the ground. “So, uh… thanks.” It took all he could to just sit up enough to see past his own belly to look at his rescuer; tall and burly with a noticeable paunch around his middle, he was covered in thick brown and cream-colored fur, with a wolf’s tail and long, lapine ears poking out over a mess of chestnut brown hair. “...What are you, exactly?” Valoch asked, a little guarded. The last time he had been on the mortal plane, he had been helping the boss with a scheme to tempt a king into gluttony, and that had been millenia ago. He wasn’t entirely sure what was normal for mortals, these days.
“I’m Rovest, a harehound.” He knelt down, offering his hand, then arched his brow, looking over to the wall he had just pried the demon from; there was no hole, not even an indent or crack.
“Though, I think I could ask you the same question.”
Valoch had no way of knowing how much he stuck out amongst mortals; Gluttony Demons were never really destined to rule Hell, given most of them were around three or four feet tall and nearly spherical. His jet-black, spherical gut was dominated by a large pentagram stretched across the canvas of his belly, hovering mere inches from the ground. He was almost entirely black, save for streaks of neon green, from the two comically small wings and stubby spines on his flabby back to his glowing eyes and spots on his round, cherubic cheeks. Rovest had to admit, he was almost cute, with an otter-like face and big button nose.
“Uh…” Valoch tapped his fingers together, tucking his chin into the fat folds around his neck. “I’m… on vacation? I’m from out of town.”
“I can tell, but you were just stuck in the wall!” Rovest had to chuckle, shaking his head. “You can tell me the truth, I’m just trying to help.”
“The truth…” Valoch muttered, looking away from Rovest. The truth wasn’t really a strong suit for him. Of course, what was he going to do now? His extended vacation had just been made a permanent one; there was no way he could go back, not after the Wrath Demon saw him escape. “I’m looking for a new, uh, job.”
Rovest crossed his arms. “On vacation?”
“Hey, I don’t judge how you spend your free time,” the demon said snappily, a scowl across his face. Who did this mortal think he was, anyways?
The harehound held up his hands. “Fair enough. But if you’re all good and don’t want to tell me more, I guess I’ll be on my way.”
Valoch huffed a bit as Rovest left, still frowning, but it quickly melted away. Rovest had helped him, and didn’t ask for anything in return. That was a good thing to do, right? “Hey, uh, Rovest?” The demon puffed as he waddled quickly to catch up with the harehound, like a black and green beanbag chair rolling after him. “I want to thank you.”
“Oh! It’s nothing, I’m happy to help,” the taller mammal grinned.
“No, no, I want to thank you… but I don’t know how.”
The harehound tilted his head quizzically. “Well, you just did, didn’t you?”
Valoch huffed, tapping his fingers again as he looked around nervously. “I came here to learn how to be good.”
Rovest scoffed, looking around at the cityscape around them, looming skyscrapers and loud traffic mere feet away. “And you came to Chicago to learn how to be a good person?”
Valoch perked up a bit at that, because he definitely knew Chicago. Al Capone couldn’t stop talking about it; apparently, he never could quite get Chicago style pizza right. “Well… yeah, sure. Is there a better place?”
Rovest tried holding back the long, extensive list of places better for such a thing, but waved it off. “Being a good person isn’t too hard. You just try to make people happy.”
“Hmm.” Valoch was still frowning, trying to think. “Okay, so… what would make you happy?”
The harehound chuckled, patting his well-fed middle. “Honestly, I’m here as a tourist, and I heard Chicago makes some amazing hot dogs, and… uh, what’re you doing?”
Valoch grabbed the sides of his bulbous belly when Rovest mentioned hot dogs, then began to shake, all his flab jiggling until the pentagram on his front began to glow. Instantly, a big footlong, piled with relish, onions, and mustard appeared in the demon’s waiting hand. “Like that?” he asked, holding it up to Rovest. Again, Al Capone was very specific about what went on a Chicago hot dog while he was being tortured.
The harehound’s jaw dropped as he took the hotdog in hand. “How’d you…?” he trailed off, the tantalizing smell hitting his canine nose. He inhaled, and was instantly overcome with hunger. Almost animalistically, he wolfed it down before he knew what happened.
“Good God,” Rovest gasped, still licking the mustard from his fingers. “That was the best hot dog I’ve ever had!”
Valoch instantly beamed, his smile dimpling his cheeks. “Really? You like it?” This was exciting; no one had ever complimented his food before! He shook his belly again until his pentagram glowed, and made another hot dog appear. “Here! Have another!”
Rovest’s eyes went wide, but already, his mouth was watering as he picked up the hotdog, eating it with equal abandon. Was he really that hungry? “Wow, that’s… that’s amazing. Where’d you learn to do that?”
Valoch shrank a bit, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, everyone back in my, uh, department can do that.”
“Really?” Rovest laughed again. “It’s so weird. I always liked the idea of a green star… I’d want one a little like yours, right here.” He patted the middle of his belly. “Just, without the circle and everything. Ah, you probably think that’s weird.”
“I’ve heard worse…” Valoch said softly. Rovest flinched a little as the demon suddenly moved a lot faster than he should have, zipping behind the harehound and clambering up his back, perched on top of his shoulders. Strangely enough, he felt incredibly light. He should feel like he had three bowling balls balanced on his head, not wearing a particularly fat turban.
“Could… I come with you for a little bit?” Valoch asked.
“Throw in ten more of those hot dogs, and you got a deal-” Rovest realized his mistake as another ofthe hot dogs was shoved in his face, with two more in Valoch’s hands. “Buddy… it was a joke. I didn’t mean right now.” Still, he was already helping himself to a third hot dog. “So, you got a name?”
“Uh, Val works.” The demon grinned a little, riding the harehound through the city. Had he just made a friend?
By the time Rovest carried Val to Millenium Park, the harehound had to sit down, his legs splayed out as he cradled a belly stuffed with ten footlongs. “Oh, wow… that was a good lunch,” the harehound mumbled, gently massaging his distended middle.
“So… you’re happy? I did good?” Val asked, his eyes pleading.
“Oh, of course you did! See? It’s not so hard to be good, right?” Rovest patted the seat next to him, and helped the demon clamber up, his fat little legs kicking in the air as he tried to pull himself up into his seat. “You could do all kinds of good things with that belly of yours, like help out a soup kitchen.”
The otter-like demon gave another dimpled smile. “That could be nice, yeah…” He looked up at Rovest, and shook his belly again, and Rovest was taken aback as a chocolate shake practically the size of Valoch appeared, the demon struggling to balance it in his fat little arms.
“Val, what’s this for?” Rovest grunted under the weight, straddling the massive shake in his lap.
“Well… you’re supposed to have something to drink with food, right? That’s how a proper meal works? Since you had ten hot dogs, you should have ten drinks, and I…” Valoch’s face fell a bit. “Oh… you don’t like it?”
Rovest sighed. He swore the demon’s eyes were growing larger the longer he looked at him; he just didn’t have the heart to say no to a face like that. “Oh, it’s not that, I just…” Resigned, he reached up for the straw and took a drink. “See? I’m drinking it. Just don’t expect me to finish this off…” It was undeniably sweet and cool, and one sip became two, then three, and soon, that gnawing hunger latched on to Rovest as he tipped the massive glass back, taking full, deep swigs of the thick, heavy drink.
“Wow, that was… really, really good…” Rovest rumbled, the harehound’s belly filling his lap, stretching out his shirt as it sloshed heavily. Then it growled. “Why don’t you come with me to my hotel? We can hang out, maybe have dinner, too.”
Valoch liked the sound of that, the demon nodding enthusiastically. He really had made a friend! He clambered up Rovest’s back again, the harehound carrying him off to his hotel. Once they were in his room, Valoch hefted himself up into an armchair, smiling up at Rovest, but the enlarged hybrid had a hungry look in his eye. “So… I was thinking. Could you make me like, a big, deep-dish pizza, Chicago style?” the harehound asked, rubbing his hands together.
The demon cocked his head. “But… aren’t you still happy?”
“Of course I am!” Rovest stopped, suddenly frowning. “Oh, geez, I’m sorry, Val. I’m taking advantage of you. How about this- what would make you happy?” The harehound was actually using a great amount of willpower; Val could hear his stomach rumbling from where he was sitting.
“What’s that noise?” He asked, cocking his head again to the other side.
“I-it’s nothing,” Rovest assured him. “Just, y’know, people’s stomachs need time to digest…” his stomach, as if on cue, growled louder. “Okay, so, if it’s not too much to ask… maybe just a snack, or something?”
“Uh, sure.” Valoch shook his belly, not entirely sure what a snack entailed. He soon held two cheeseburgers in his hands that Rovest snatched greedily, quickly wolfing them down.
“Mmph… more!” the harehound demanded, before shaking his head. “Gosh… I’m sorry again, man, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Valoch’s eyes slowly widened as a thought struck him. He had been making food like they had in Hell; nothing ever sated the gluttons’ hunger, it wasn’t supposed to. It was supposed to make it even worse, and he had given more food to Rovest than he would in two or three days at work. That wasn’t good at all. The demon was crestfallen; he thought he was doing so well, too!
“Aw, Val, don’t look at me like that, I’m sorry…” Rovest patted him on the shoulder. “Look, how about…” the harehound’s round gut, already large enough to push his shirt up around his chest, growled angrily again. “....how about we go to a buffet, or something? T-that way, you don’t need to make anymore food, and I can just… eat all I want.”
“No, no…” Valoch sighed, puffing up his doughy chest as he tried to stand up straight. He had heard of this before, responsibility, he thought it was called? “I’ll make you anything you want.” He smiled bravely. He needed to sate his new friend’s hunger, then he’d be happy again. “I’d be happy to.”
“Oh, great! So… about that deep-dish pizza?”
It was just a minor adjustment, really. Valoch had to stop thinking about Hellish food and focus on the food they had in the mortal plane as he shook his belly, summoning a Chicago style pizza the size of a truck tire. Rovest took each huge, greasy slice and swallowed them whole, his shirt finally tearing as it struggled to hold his burgeoning bulk. As he ate more and more, Rovest’s legs, already looking chunky, began to wobble from supporting his increased weight. More pizza came, and the harehound’s legs gave out, landing on the floor with a heavy whump that made his thick, round rump jiggle.
“How… how’re you doing?” Val asked, catching his breath. He had never summoned up this much food, and the pentagram on his belly sparked from being overworked.
Rovest’s hands rested on his gut, now the size of Valoch. With his legs splayed out, it was quickly reaching his ankles. “I could still go for more.”
Valoch nodded, then took a deep breath as he got back to work, shaking things up with one more giant pizza, then juicy, double bacon cheeseburgers, burritos thick as Rovest’s arms, whole chickens, anything he could think of to shove into the harehound’s gaping maw. His body was growing before Valoch’s eyes, his new friend now double his size, and looking to double that as he went on. Rovest barely said anything, his eyes were dilated, but he looked… happy? Valoch wasn’t sure, but he knew he was getting tired.
Rovest was taking deep breaths as he cradled his huge gut, billowing cheeks framing a fattened face crowning piles of neck fat that melded into a chest bigger and softer than the pillows on his hotel bed. “Ough…” he groaned. “So, Val… I think I’m getting there. But do you think I could have just a little dessert? Some ice cream?”
The demon braced himself, his pentagram flickering. “Alright. Just… get ready.” Valoch focused, then climbed up the small, tan hill that was Rovest’s belly, struggling under his own weight as his soft belly mashed against the harehound’s. Finally, he was at the apex, in arm’s reach of Rovest’s waiting maw. “Here goes,” Valoch said, then shook his belly, summoning a massive ice cream sandwich, with two cookie cakes for bread, and scoops of ice cream big as Rovest’s head mashed together, with a mountain of whipped cream crowned by a cherry. So huge was this treat, it forced Valoch off Rovest’s belly, the demon sent sliding off the rolls of fat.
“Oooh!” Rovest’s eyes went wide, like he was seeing some sacred treasure. Excitedly he latched on to his lavish treat, and began to devour it with renewed gusto. He wallowed into the cold, creamy goodness, half a dozen sweet flavors dancing on his tongue. His belly was surging forward like an advancing army, pressing against Valoch’s back as that mountain of blubber pushed past his feet, his busy arms flapping with thick deposits of wobbly fat, thighs and legs thicker than Valoch’s gut swallowing his now-useless feet. At this rate, Rovest was in very real danger of taking up the entire room. But, halfway through his dessert, it seemed like he was finally sated, leaning back with a contented sigh as reams of back roll fat all bunched together.
“Now this is dessert,” the harehound groaned pleasurably as he leisurely nibbled at the remains of his ice cream treat. “Val? You still there?” he asked. Rovest couldn’t see the demon past the oceanic mass of his gut, a landscape of soft, warm fat, as if the harehound was swaddled in the softest pillows and blankets.
At the periphery of his planetary belly, Valoch, too, was groaning. He had never worked that hard, summoned up that much food in one go. The neon green of his pentagram was faded, sparking slightly. He was going to need a long nap after this; he could already feel his eyelids grow heavy. “Yeah, I’m here! So… you’re happy now, right?”
“Happy? Heh, definitely! Fat and happy,” Rovest declared, thumping his gut and sending ripples all the way down to the demon resting against his overly plush form.
Fat and happy? Valoch liked the sound of that as he nodded off to sleep. He felt like he had done good, and on his first try, too! Maybe there were other people he could make just as happy as Rovest…
Category Story / Fat Furs
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Male
Size 1280 x 960px
the first of many for that demon to enlarge and entice with gluttony
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