Chapter Text
Broadside: The most vulnerable angle of a ship that runs the length of the boat
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You nervously walk up a ramp to the largest ship you’ve seen. The dark wood is stained from years at sea, and all around it are deep scars, reinforcements, and additions meant to intimidate. You look up, seeing the skull and crossbones flying high. It’s official. You’re a pirate.
After your career in the Navy was ruined with one mistake at sea, you were desperate for anything to make a living. Word travelled fast that THE ship would be docking at your port soon, and they were searching for a lookout. You sat at the port, glancing out at sea, waiting and starving, until the giant shape of the ship now in front of you was seen on the horizon. You think back to that moment on the dock now as you make your approach.
You hurried up, making yourself look presentable. You may not have had any money, but you’d kept your clothes neat in military fashion. Though…maybe that wouldn’t have been helpful in hindsight, given the type of pirates you were trying to join. They had a reputation for being rude, loud, and…well…fat.
Their ship would pull up to a town, eat and drink it dry, and then move onto the next to do the same. Anyone who stood in their way would be at the end of many fearsome swords, as their combat abilities were also surprisingly infamous. The rumor was that many a barkeep had died when trying to swindle the group, saying they were out of drink before it was truly a reality. As the ship pulled up, you were ready to face whatever was on the other side.
A shadow fell over you as the sun was blocked by a wide figure. As they lumbered down the ramp to the port at a leisurely pace, you got a good look at them. They were the fattest, hairiest, scariest person you’d seen. Their arms and legs were corded with muscle and covered in a layer of pudge, softening them but not taking away from their size or strength. They threatened to rip through the velvet jacket and leather pants that contained them.
But, you almost didn’t even take their strong limbs in, because their belly was wobbling right in front of them as they continued down the ramp. It rounded out from their soft, flabby chest, spreading so you think you might have even been able to see it from their backside. You thought that it might be so big it would sway and hit their mid-thigh as they walked, if not for the red sash acting as a belt that kept it aloft. The dual sword holster and belly band contained it, making it sit like a massive orb of fat on their middle.
You saw hair almost everywhere, on their arms, on their face, in the v of their shirt where you got a delicious peek of their chest. All in all, you had to force yourself forward to confront them as they reached the end of the ramp, adjusting their hat. They could probably have squashed you like a bug, which invigorated and frightened you. But…if you truly wanted to work for this ship, you had to get over it quickly.
You stood right in front of them with your hat in your hands. They sneered and growled out, “Get lost, yeh runt. I need ta’ git to the pub an’ find barrels o’rum fer me crew.”
You straightened your back, resolving yourself as you got out, “I’m here for the lookout position. I would actually like to join that same crew.”
The pirate started, and then looked you up and down before chuckling. “Yeh got some nerve, doncha? Most cowards ‘round here woulda’ ran at that. But yeh?” They slapped their gut as they laughed, “Yeh want teh join us! Thas’ a right joke, that is. I’ll have to tell the crew a little skinny little landlubber wanted to try an’ get their sea legs with us next I see 'em.” They shoved you to the side with their massive hand, making the ground shake as they walked towards the pub.
You were deterred for only a second, hurrying until you drew up to their side again, “I was in the Navy for ten years as a navigator, actually. I don’t need my sea legs, I just need a job so I can eat.” Your belly growled at the end of your statement, almost supporting your argument with evidence.
The pirate stopped, turning to you. “Navy, eh? They let little beanpoles like yeh in the Navy?” They chuckled, but then they looked at your arms and legs that didn’t even come close to filling in your clothes. You had fallen on hard times after losing your Navy position, and it showed. A breeze blew through the port, and a shiver wracked through your entire body as you didn’t have enough of…anything to keep warm. They watched you try to bring your bony hands up to subtly rub your arms and signed, a slight hint of pity in their eyes. “Well…a small runt like yeh could scale our mast easy…can you use a compass, wee one?”
You nodded as well as you could with your teeth clattering. They sighed again and your eyes were drawn to their massive belly as they scratched it, making it wobble as they considered their options. “Well…we’d need tah get yah some better clothes…and maybe some flesh to cover those bones yee call arms.” Their eyes lit up suddenly and you could see them shine with mirth as their hand stopped and gripped their gut. Excitedly, they stuck their hand out, booming with finality, “Welcome aboard! We’ll be leavin’ early in th’ mornin’, so git yerself here with all yer stuff before dawn.”
You were shocked. “That’s it? Do you need to know anything else? Don’t I need to talk with the captain?”
They balked and then threw their head back, making their belly jiggle like a bowlful of jelly. “Oh little one, yer talkin’ to 'em.”
You jolt back to the present when you hear the bustle of movement that comes with stepping onto the main deck. And once there, you find that the captain isn’t the only one who lives up to their reputation. A large woman walks quickly across the deck in front of you, one of her large arms covered in a layer of fat, carrying a heavy wooden crate. Her other hand is scratching her massive, round gut which has forced her top and pants apart to let a stripe of her flab escape.
You’ve never seen a woman with so little manners that she would scratch at any body part, let alone one that is so tall and strong…but she isn’t alone. Every single person on this crew is massively fat and strong, going about their launch tasks with little to no haste. They lumber about, yelling at each other, occasionally scratching or playing with their titanic bellies, and glancing with open interest at you. You’re about to approach someone to ask what to do when you hear a small burp off to your side.
A man sits on a stool next to a barrel of rum. His belly rounds out into a hardened orb, you assume full of the liquid, as he continues downing a flagon. Once he’s done, his hairy arm slaps his gut that is completely visible as it pushes away his shirt and pants that are too small. Throwing his head back, he lets out a…
“BWWOOOORRRP!”
…and as he caresses his packed, hard gut, you find a slight jolt of surprising arousal move through you at the sight, not knowing why the wobbling, hairy belly of this man is attracting you. As you ponder, more and more of the crew joins the drunken man as they finish their tasks. Some start drinking heavily, trying to catch their bellies up to the sitting man as they belch and laugh. Many yell out cheers of encouragement for both the drunk man and those who are currently drinking. And yet still, there are a few others who go up to the man and anyone with a massive sloshy belly, making moves to caress their chubby cheeks, rub their distended bellies, or even jiggle their aching guts for them to help dislodge those noises.
You stand in place, staring at the mannerless crew and finding yourself transfixed in their outright encouragement of hedonism. Somehow…its making you want to join them in either way. You imagine sinking your fingers into the belly of one of the crew members to see how much you can make it wobble, and then letting them in turn fill your hungry belly up. You clutch your flat middle as it growls at you in hunger, wanting more than anything to feel something other than emptiness…but as you observe the group closer, they seem to have paired off. That leaves you alone, again, until you possibly make a friend here.
With that thought, you are jolted out of your fixation on the group as you hear a familiar booming voice shout from above you, “YE BUNCH OF BILGE-DRINKING BISCUIT EATERS! YE’VE STARTED WITHOUT YER CAPTAIN!” You turn to see the massive silhouette of the captain glancing over the crew from the railing of the tallest deck, right in front of what you assume is their quarters.
The crew laughs and starts to move slowly into a crooked line, not taking the time to properly arrange themselves as they grumble and belch when their captain approaches. “What a fat, drunken, mean crew, isn’t that right!” They all yell and shout, their bellies shaking and their thick arms punching the air. “We’ve got fresh blood with us t'day! Let’s show'em how we run a proper pirate ship! To yer places! Anchors away!” The crew scrambles now, with a direct order from their captain, glancing your way as their fat guts bounce with each movement.
The captain gestures to you, catching your eye as they walk away. You hurry after them, watching their fat ass push and sway against their leather pants as they lumber in front. When you reach the mast, they haul a bag they had been carrying off of their shoulder and place it in front of you. “There be all the supplies ye’ll need fer lookout.” They watch you struggle to pick it up and boom out a laugh, “Yeh gotta carry all o'that up before we launch.” They move closer, slapping their massive hand on your back and leaning in so you can feel their massive belly against you. “So tha’ means ye better hurry little one.” You shiver at the nickname, wanting to give into the tiny voice that says to just snuggle into their gravid warmth.
But you shake your head a bit and instead turn to the mast, hoisting the heavy bag over your shoulders and grabbing the handholds, scrambling up as fast as you can. It’s heavy, but you do still have some strength left in your thin body. You only look down once, and you see the captain looking up at you, one hand on their massive belly and the other shielding their eyes from the sun. Once you reach the crow’s nest at the top, you look back again to see an empty spot on the deck where they used to be.
You set the bag down onto the small table at the crow’s nest, settling onto the little chair next to it. You find that you can see all around you from this vantage point, but know that you’ll want to get up and move around anyway at some point. A smaller rum barrel sits next to you on the table, and you rationalize that it must be there to keep you slightly hydrated during your shift. Curious, you open the bag the captain gave you, letting a shiny, plump apple spill out. You barely catch it before it hits the ground. Why is there an apple in the bag?
You open it further, peeking inside to see that the “supplies” the captain gave you turned out to be enough food to feed you for four days. There is even fresh foods-cheese, fruits, soft bread-that won’t be found later in the journey as you move more to cured, dry preserves. There is also a spyglass and compass nestled into a side pocket, along with a flagon…but from what you can see everything else is edible.
You bite into the apple, moaning at its sweet and tart taste. Maybe…this was the only bag you would get for a few days and you would have to ration? That makes sense…yes. Satisfied by your logic, you finish the apple and begin your lookout as the crew yells and maneuvers the ship below you, comfortable sitting in your seat for now. But then your stomach grumbles.
You rub it, and it releases another roar, wanting something else. Peeking into the bag, you bring out a small block of cheese and bread, thinking that it wouldn’t mess with your rationing too much. You tear chunks out of both as you keep watch, finding that you love the feeling of a full belly after being hungry so long. You caress where it pushes out slightly as you get up to stroll around the tiny space, unthinkingly picking up an orange and peeling it.
This turns out to be what you do for most of the morning, keeping watch and strolling about as you snack without thought, shoving more and more into your mouth. Eventually, you settle down for your lunch only to find the bag half empty. You glance down at your belly to see it’s previously slightly rounded shape has become a definite, hard potbelly. It’s pushing up the bottom of your shirt slightly as you poke the stripe of skin peeking out, moaning at the sensation of jostling your overly sensitive gut.
Your belly churns, but also grumbles, somehow hungry for more. You appease it by taking your flagon and filling it with rum, knocking it back and drinking the whole thing with one gulp. The beverage fills in the empty space in your packed gut, sating your belly, but also forcing out the pockets of air. It let’s out a gurgle as you clutch it and release a small string of burps, “Urp! Oorap! Hhhhhuuuuurrrp!”
You gasp for breath when it’s done, feeling a particularly strange and tight sensation from your side. You dig into it and shake your gut a bit, mesmerized by the jiggle. But as you do, your head is forced back with a belch that would have impressed the crew below if they were paying attention.
“HHHHHHHHHHHUUURRRRRAAAAPPPPPP!!!”
You smack your lips and pat your gut, feeling it wobble a bit more as your belches freed up some space. Rationally, you know that you need to stop eating now. But you instead unconsciously grab another piece of cheese as you heave yourself out of the chair and walk around again, finding it more difficult to move than before.
And…you keep snacking and drinking, filling up your poor belly even more until the bag is entirely empty. You’ve settled down in your chair long before then, finding it easier to eat from your seat. You go back to the barrel for more rum as your heavy stomach keeps you weighed down and lets out an occasional grumble followed by a belch as the sun sets. You rub it and let out an “Urp!” as you consider what could be in store after your shift today, taking in the beauty of the calm seas. You thought you were going to ration everything…which means you may need to ask the captain for more food and promise that you won’t go through it as quickly if you want to eat at all over the next four days.
But as you glance down at your belly…you secretly hope that you get just as much food tomorrow. The feeling of food and ale pushing your gut to its limits, your stomach churning as it turns it to fat…it all makes you feel a bit lightheaded as you sit and pant, picking up the orb your belly has become and letting it drop with a groan.
Suddenly, through the inky blackness of the night around you, a voice calls out from below. “Hey, landlubber! Yer shift is up! Ye can come down now and I’ll take yer place.” You glance over the nest, wincing as your stuffed gut presses into the wood and letting out a small belch as it does. Below you is another pirate from the crew, their arms strong and their belly round. But…they were slightly smaller than the rest, almost as if they were purposefully trying to keep themselves this way. You shrug, picking up your scraps and supplies and heaving yourself over the edge.
While you’re climbing down the mast, your packed belly presses against the pillar, making you let out even more belches as you clamber to the main deck. Once there, your replacement stares at you for a moment, taking in your obviously round gut that pushes against your shirt and the empty bag over your shoulder. They huff out a laugh and grab your arm, “Ha! Looks like yeh gave into the boredom and ate it all.” They jiggle their flabby paunch, your eyes zeroing in on its movement as they continue, “…thas’ about right! You’ll find herself eatin’ more 'n more as yer up there if yer not careful.”
They heave their massive bag over their own shoulder, winking at you as their corded arms start the climb, leaving you clutching your middle as you stare after them. A slight belch forces you out of your thoughts, and your legs start bringing you towards the crew quarters. But a large hand reaches out of the darkness and frightens you as it grabs your skinny shoulder.
A chuckle sounds at your jump, and the captain starts to talk from next to you, “Yer alright, little one. Jus’ checkin’ on yah after yer first shift.” They turn you around, eyeing your packed middle. “Ye ate all the food I gave yah!” You sweat a bit as they lean down and look into your eyes. “Thas’ good. I have even more for yah t'morrow. Gotta make sure yer gettin’ stronger so yeh can begin to pull yer weight around here.” They slap their own gravid gut as an end to their statement.
They bring a hand up to their chin, rubbing its soft shape as they continue, “An’ also…yer not suppose te’ sleep in the’ crew quarters yet. Yer not only too scrawny to deal with their bullshit,” they eye the cabin, “…but also I like te’ keep an eye out on our new crew an’ make sure they do wha’ I want.” The massive hand on your shoulder steers you away, bringing you with them as they climb the stairs to the top deck.
Once there, they open a door off to the side of their own, revealing a smaller room that’s fitted with a soft bed, vanity, wardrobe, and another barrel of rum in the corner. They chuckle and say, “These use t'be the companion quarters til’ I stopped attractin’ the attentions of most of 'em.” They look lost in thought before they shove you in. “Now they’re where ye’ll be sleepin’ before yah become a true pirate.”
You unthinkingly caress your gut, drawing the captain’s attention without noticing, “But…how will I know when that is? Is there some sort of…training or maybe a quota I have to meet?” They force their eyes away from your gut before you can look at them, turning around quickly and making their whole body wobble, “I’ll be the judge o'that, little one. Go te’ sleep. Ye’ll need te’ be awake early fer yer next shift.” Then they slam the door behind them, leaving you in the unfamiliar room…alone…again.
You sigh and place your bag on the small table next to your bed, bringing out a flagon and loading it up with rum. You think it might help you sleep as the ship rocks beneath you and your belly churns in front of you. Gulping it down, you let out a massive belch, “BWWWOOORRRP!” And you sigh as it does free up even more space in your packed middle.
Then you settle into bed, hands around your rounded gut as you fall asleep, occasionally letting out more burps and belches as your stomach works its way through the mass of food and rum you had consumed that day. Unbeknownst to you, the captain lays in their own bed on the other side with only a wall separating you.
They hear your belches and sighs and moan lowly with each one. The captain had been taken with you during that first meeting on the dock, your spirit in the face of their intimidation was truly a sight to behold. But they were a bit worried about your visible bones and skinny stature, and they are also bad with words. Hoping to help, they gave you that full bag of food this morning and forgot to try and encourage you to eat it. It turns out that they didn’t even have to persuade you to eat it all, and that both soothed them and made them feel out of their mind all at once. All they had to do was give you food and you came down with a full belly, like a little proper glutton.
They caress their own blubbery gut as they ponder what to do with you next. Of course you would continue as lookout…but if you kept going as you are currently, they may have to come up with a new plan for you soon. As they hear another belch through the wall…they find another wonderful idea forming itself in their mind. Then they turn and also chase sleep, finding themselves dreaming of your face and full bellies.