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This was aggravating.
He’d made some decent progress, she supposed. Most of his old wardrobe was gone, curated instead towards a more masculine fit that complimented the flat chest. It was getting harder for newcomers to tell he’d ever been a woman, even if he kept his chin clean cut.
Compliment, but it didn’t fit. She’d watched him directly too - she knew he was still adding T to his code every week, on schedule, because she wouldn’t let him get on with his day until he did (something which, ironically, motivated him more, the little freak.) So it wasn’t the matter of him not getting enough hormones. And it certainly wasn’t that he didn’t work out enough, with the way she chased him down half the time.
No, the problem was the man just didn’t eat.
She could only watch him so much while keeping TV Time running. Yet the more she thought about it, the less she remembered him actually stopping for a meal during the course of the day. He stuck to a diet of cigarettes, caffeine and what she assumed to be whatever bits of crumbs someone else left on the green room table.
One day, she decided to test that theory and dedicated some of her workers to spying on him throughout the shift. And the results spoke for themselves. Cup of coffee. Cup of coffee. A half of a half of a CD bagel. All chased inbetween with smoke breaks, smoke works and of course - another fucking cup of coffee. It was irritating. He was already small as is, and hardly had the stamina sometimes to keep up with her needs (on the rare occasion his own horndog nature didn’t send him skyrocketing past his own limits.)
So she’d taken measures to get more cyber city fare at the green room table, something to entice him to eat a little more throughout his day. Even with a treasure trove of data cookies, captcha cakes and other delicacies though - while the majority of her crew enjoyed the change of pace, her target seemed blissfully unaware, walking right past with that damned cigarette dangling off his lips. Why bother even trying if her efforts were just going to be ignored? It was disgusting. Downright disrespectful. Did he even realize she was trying to help him improve?
Ughhh….. Just what was it going to take to make him sit down and eat?? Was she going to have to force feed him??
… hm. Hang on. That gave Tenna pause, watching Spamton from afar on one such day, as he side stepped the snack table again to heckle Elnina about something. Sex was always a good motivator for pushing his limits to the extremes. And even with the other crew members enjoying the new food, she was being left with a lot of leftovers at the end of shift. They needed to go somewhere. Preferably not down the drain and actually for some good use. If he wasn’t going to eat like a normal darkner, then fine. She’d make it a punishment.
It was the only way that mutt ever learned sometimes.
The evening news wraps for the day and Tenna makes a beeline for the green room, barking orders at the first shadowguys she sees. No sense in hauling everything back to her private chambers herself. After all, she had other things to track down. Like that damnable mailman.
She finds him by the watercooler, bragging about something or other, his gold teeth catching the light off the overheads and making his smile literally sparkle. The zapper he’s in the middle of regaling wisely takes his leave as Tenna’s shadow looms over the both of them. Spamton doesn’t turn, finishing his little paper cone and crunching it in a gloved fist, “You look particularly grim today, my beloathed.”
“With good reason.” Her tail lashes in the air behind her, “Spamton, did you enjoy the green room spread today?”
“Ehh…” He wiggled a hand, “There was the reshoots, that edit with the script, uh, that one guy broke his leg so had to go laugh about that for a while-“
“Yes, yes, I remember.” And she gains a half inch of smirk. “That was funny.”
“Right?? Especially how he-“
“But.” She thumps her hand against the water cooler, pinning him to it, “You didn’t try anything?”
“Mmm…” Spamton was glancing up at her, both shrinking and grinning at the glare on her face, boring a hole through his eyes and out the back of his head, “I uh… just never had the time, I guess!”
“I see.” Tenna’s claws unsheathed, poking through her gloves as a sheen of sweat broke out on Spamton, “In spite of me blowing part of my catering budget out of the water just to bring cyber city goods over. And you still haven’t tried anything.”
“L-like I said uh.” Spamton gulped, “Just haven’t had the time…?”
“Then.” Tenna gave a wicked grin, “We’re going to make the time together.” And her tail flicked, brushing beneath his chin and sending a shiver up Spamton’s spine, canine biting down on his lip. “Five minutes. My room. Don’t be late.”
“Ohhhohoho, wouldn’t dare, mama~” Such a rattly little purr that came from him, almost cute.
Almost.
But she was far too irritated to let him off the hook just for being somewhat cute. The mutt needed to be taught a lesson, even if Tenna was sure he wouldn’t learn a damn thing from this. This better not unlock yet another kink in the little mongrel, she thought, setting up the last of bits of her little plan, checking the ties of the harness on the bed once more for good measure until the leather creaked. Spamton walked in with a swishing of his tail and an eager grin on his face, though he paused when seeing her bed in the center of the room.
“In a bed this time, mistress??” He said, like he’d never heard of such a foreign concept.
“It’ll make it easier for your punishment.” That sure got his attention - eyes wide and a heat rising to his face, tail wagging even more, “Shoes off. Sit against the headboard.” And she carried that same, unamused look as he readily zipped over, planting himself exactly where she wanted. “Arms above your head.”
When he moved, the harness activated. A pair of clawed, robotic arms sprung out from it to pin his arms above his head, digging shrapnel digits into his wrists. “Uncomfortable?” She asked, almost lovingly.
“Yes ma’am~” He huffed with enthusiasm.
“Good.” She pulled the cart over, kicking her shoes off to sit in the bed with him, “It’s going to get worse for you.”
“When doesn’t it?”
“Don’t get cheeky.” She grips his cheeks, sneering, “I’m getting my money’s worth for those imports. I’m not just throwing them in the trash.” And her screen darkened with a smile, “Instead… I’m going to throw them here…” With her other hand, she trailed her fingers down his chest to rest on the flat, almost concave divot of his stomach beneath the turtleneck, “Into my trash.”
Blinking, Spamton’s excitement was matched only by his confusion, “You’re gonna feed me? That…” his brows furrow, “Almost sounds tame. You feeling alright?”
“Aha.” And Tenna leaned across him to grab one of the trays off the cart. “Oh I’m fine.” And she set the tray of cookies in his lap with a heavy ‘wump’, letting him feel just how much was on there and seeing his eyes pop open wide, tail wagging up a storm behind him, “But you? Probably won’t be.”
“Ah.” Redness was quickly blooming along his face, giving a cursory tug at his binds, then swallowing hard.
“Save that for when I’m actually feeding you.” And with a grin, she grabbed the first off the stack for him. The cookies themselves weren’t that big. They almost looked like the thinner chocolate chip cookies Toriel would sometimes make, only in a wide variety of color combos that made the phrase ‘taste the rainbow’ come to mind. They were small, more of an appetizer for the main course she had planned, and while still unsure, Spamton ate what he was given. There was this look on his face, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop as she kept pressing more and more to his mouth, and the tray got just a bit lighter on his lap. It took about halfway before something seemed to shift, and he let out a sigh after swallowing.
Tenna paused, her hand coming to rest over his middle, and he made this quiet noise, halfway between a grunt and a sigh, when she lightly pressed down. It certainly wasn’t concave anymore, but it was barely pushed out. He still looked and felt dreadfully skinny. “So uh… we uh, getting to the punishment anytime soon, toots?” He managed between huffs, “Not that this ain’t nice, but-“ She cut him off with a handful of cookies that he had to strain to fit his jaw around. Chewing quickly so he could wolf them down and catch his breath with some pants.
“Cute that you think I’m being nice.” She grabbed him by the chin to stare into his eyes, “You didn’t want to try anything? You’re going to have everything now.” She pushes again on his stomach and he squirms beneath her touch, bringing a darker chuckle up her throat, “I’m not stopping until you physically can’t take anymore.”
Right on cue, she watched his expression shift.
Eyes widening to a demented degree, tail thumping against the mattress, melting into her touch as he graciously launched himself into that submissive state. He was invested in seeing this through now, she realized with a toothy grin, pulling his jaw open so she could fit more down his gullet. He’d occasionally writhe against his binds, stopping to take shallow breaths as the weight shifted off his lap and into his stomach. With the shift in attitude, they cleared through the rest of the tray in minutes, rather than the half hour it took to just get the half down, and she experimentally pushed on his stomach again. His breathing hitched, huffing as she felt over the bump that had just started to form.
“Haaah… d-don’t think I’ve eaten this much before, mistress…”
“And we still have such ways to go.” She replaced the empty tray with another full one that made him shift beneath its weight. The captcha cakes were already bigger than the cookies had been, iced with bits of random numbers and letters and smelling sickeningly sweet just at a glance. A bit of drool dipped past the corner of his lips, swallowing thickly. “Hungry still, dear?”
“A-ah… starved.” He groaned, opening his mouth obediently. She slotted the first in, thankful that these had a convenient tube shape. Made them all the easier to shove into his mouth and down his throat, finger almost pushing to the opening of his throat just to encourage them down with another heavy gulp. Occasionally, she’d rub across him, just to feel him actively puff up beneath her hand.
He was a dirty little liar, clearly getting full now, judging the ways he had to huff and puff before taking another down and how he shifted and squirmed his hips with the desperate need to get comfortable. And to try and get some relief to the arousal beginning to build in him. His eyes squeezed shut as he strained to swallow another few bites and his stomach gave a sudden lurch, loudly complaining to its upstairs neighbor about how it’d gotten enough deliveries already. But it wasn’t up to Spamton when they stopped. It was up to her.
At least, unless he felt the need to pull the safety word or pass out. But god help him if he was going to do that yet. Not when it was just getting good.
Now was that pain and discomfort he was promised beginning to spring to mind. Another long grumble from his stomach that brought with it an ache from a combo of artificial sweetness and overindulgence.
“Getting full, aren’t you?” She squeezed her fingers on his stomach and he yelped, legs twisting together to soothe that growling heat. It knocked several of the cakes off onto the bedding, and Tenna planted her hand down on his head to shove him, earning another grunt and whine for her efforts, “I better not see any stains tomorrow. Eat.”
The arms above the headboard gripped his hands behind his back, extending so he could lean forward, grabbing cakes with his mouth and lapping up the crumbs and frosting that had spilled. Tongue drawing over the blankets, he had to stop to gulp down several times, a hiccup forming in his diaphragm as his belly groaned in displeasure. The extra arms drew him back into sitting up, and she caught just a sliver of his stomach under the hem of his sweater, beginning to push up from just how stuffed he was starting to look.
“It must be starting to hurt.” She chided, grabbing hold of his jaws to shove two in at once, barely giving him time to swallow before massaging his throat to make him. His tongue stuck out when he had to pant, and there was spit flowing freely from his lips down his chin. “Might even feel sick. We’re almost done with the cakes. Don’t pussy out now, mutt.”
“Jus’… jus’ needa minute…” he slurred, as if drunk, and without a safe word in sight, Tenna went ahead with the rest of the cakes while his mouth was hanging open. Frosting clung to her gloves, and she didn’t even need to ask before he whined, licking them clean for her. “Fffuck, Tens-“ Spamton’s eyes lowered, and he gave a toothy grin when he eyed the erection beginning to tent in her slacks. “- You really like this?”
“Shut up. Don’t give me that look. You asked for this.” She hummed, “Luckily, I thought ahead. You won’t have to eat another bite.”
As excited as he was for more, Spamton still sighed, visibly sagging with relief, “Phew-“
“Because-“ and one of the robotic hands moved off his wrists, grabbing a funnel attached to a hose, angling it above his head, “You’re going to drink the rest.”
Spamton paled, “You know I was wondering when you’d finally kill me.”
“Hope it lives up to your expectations.” She pinched his chin, “Now shut up and open wide.”
Obediently, he did as he was told.
She slid the hose past his lips, down his throat, eyes on him as he trembled and strained against the hand holding his arms tight above his head. Tenna lightly rubbed over his swell, assuring the angry organ and its growls of its oncoming destruction, while Spamton roughly swallowed till the hose bottomed out at his stomach valve. The rest of the various snacks and treats had been blended up and put into a pitcher, turned to a sort of milkshake with plenty of protein powder to help with his gains. If she didn’t see any difference after today, she’d eat her own tie.
Rapidly he began pant through his nose as she poured it down the funnel and left with no other option, was forced to just drink.
And drink.
And drink.
It was almost like a magic trick, watching him begin to fill up - any bit of loose space or air getting replaced with shake slurry. From stuffed to bloated and from bloated to tight. Audibly gulping the shake down with increasing groans and whines coming from him, his eyes squeezing shut with strain. The weight in his belly had pinned him down from squirming his hips or even pressing his thighs together. Just meant to endure the agonizing arousal in his untouched dick and keep huffing air. His sweater rolled upwards as his gut stretched, letting Tenna get a good look at her handiwork.
“Even gagged, you’re so vocal.” She pressed his stomach and his eyes shot open, his face going pale and even a touch green. His stomach grumbled audibly between swallows. “You’ve still got half the pitcher left, you know.”
“Mmmngh… unnhf… u- ulp-“ The ache in his middle was getting sharper, his swallows slowing down to a crawl. The fluid had filled most of the empty space up, stretched it out, and he was quickly running out of room. Yet she still had half left for him?? She was sadistic!!
God… He’d never felt harder.
In more ways than one. Groaning around the hose, he fixed her a pleading look. Even if he already knows the answer she’d give.
“Come on.” She huffed in turn. When he looked down, he could see she’d gotten her hand down her slacks, but had only a second to process it before she was grabbing his face to direct back to her screen, smiling as it began to spiral right before his eyes, “Only half left, you’re not even that full. Take it.”
He really couldn’t. He already felt fit to burst there. There was no way he could… he… he could stop here. Not when he was so close, right? The spiral reflected back in his eyes, going half lidded. Slowly, he bobbed his head and tilted it back, giving a muffled groan while wolfing down one gulp, then another. And another.
His back was pressed tight against the headboard as his stomach, somehow, impossibly filled further. Stretching outwards. It just got tighter and tighter and tighter and god it was really starting to hurt but she’d made a demand and he couldn’t look away. One more drop. Just one more and he was going to pop. If she got mad at crumbs, he could scarcely imagine what mess blowing up would cause. And right when it felt like he was going to split at the seams, as his eyes began to cross and his throat even felt like it was filling up -
PING!
A wave of sudden relief. In both of their hastes, neither had noticed the belt pushing against his growing belly until the buckle had finally given up the ghost, snapping off and driving his fly down. The relief and shock made him suck on the tube, and with a loud moan, he came with a full body shiver and the last of the slurry draining down into his packed gut. He sat back with a deep moan, sweat-soaked hair leaning fully against the headboard as he took shallow breaths through his nose.
Good lord he was huge. Blueish indigo verging on purple and shiny like an apple, firm to the core when she brushed her fingertips against a taut side. She’d done that to him. Stretched him to nearly breaking. Watching closely as his stomach cramped and a single, tiny, gold stretch mark formed with another harsh whine from him. Her screen glitched out, turning to static as she came, moving her hand out of her pants soon after with a shudder and stifled moan.
It took a minute or two for her to catch her breath. Turning her screen back on slowly, she spent another admiring her work, and the cute shades of red he’d begun to turn with the hose in his throat and overwhelming fullness tanking his system. Then after a fourth, Tenna could fully remove the funnel to let him pant openly, and his posture slouched as much as allowed with the heavy burden in his lap.
“Ohhgodimgonnaexplode-” He huffed out on exhale.
“You certainly got close.” Tenna palmed the underside of his belly and rubbed her thumb along his hauntingly taut side. His white fur had thinned enough to see a hint of blue blush along his skin, without an inch of give left on him. It only would’ve taken a single claw to pop him like a balloon, but she didn’t want to get rid of her favorite toy anytime soon. “How does it feel, mutt?”
“Hhff… h- hurts…” He took another few breaths, “Burns… ohnghitssohard-”
“You’ll cope.”
Spamton wheezed, his lids lowering. It’s no shock between the loss of air and the gluttony that he fell swiftly into a deep food coma. She released her grip on him, scooping him up carefully around his chest. Now that he was out cold, she really got a good eyeful of her handiwork when she was able to cuddle without fear of her image. The soft pad of her gloved thumb brushed against that stretch mark in particular, and with a grin, she settled back against the headboard, pecking his sweaty forehead.
Let’s see how skinny he stays. She thought, gleefully looking forward to the binge results
Course, they had to take a day or two just to let him recover. Since the dumbass hadn’t used a safe word of any kind, he really had almost burst, and Tenna wasn’t about to let all that effort go to waste on a hospital bill to stitch him back up.
So, the watches slipped on, so neither were expecting more chicanery from the other, and she set the studio to reruns as his body coped with everything that had been shoved into it while he whined and snored in the depths of his food coma. Rubbing his stomach only once it digested enough to be safe, only then imagining how he’d look when he finally got some proper muscle mass on him and started looking like a real man around here.
So, when he was finally fit enough to go home and recover, enough to come back to the studio again a few days later, of course her jaw dropped.
“Why are you skinny.” She blurted out.
“Hm?” Spamton blinked at her, looking like he hadn’t even gained an inch, and she grit her teeth together audibly, claws flexing. “Oh, heh! Do you know how much junk Addisons have to process on the daily? Our metabolisms are insane!” He turned on his heel, tail swishing behind him, “You have to really keep at it if you want to see an inch on me~”
“That little…” She clenched her claws into tight fists, grabbing the nearest pippins she could find, “Errand run. You’re going to cyber city. Get with the catering team and be back by Tonight.”
As Tenna took her fury off on her crew, Spamton sidestepped to one of the dressing rooms, casual as anything as he quickly locked the door behind himself. He rolled up the hem of his sweater, then the tighter seam of the zip-girdle he’d had to buy, decompressing it to admire himself in the mirror. A pudgy little belly, riddled with gold stretch marks, that he cupped the bottom of with a lovestruck grin.
“Let’s see you try, honey~”