Chapter Text
Ford was so beautiful like this.
Bill watched as his pet scientist lay gloriously beached on the couch in his living room, two boxes deep into a takeout pizza binge. His black tie was loosened around the collar of a white button-up shirt that already hadn't fit before the pizzas arrived but was now only barely held closed by several buttons that looked like they were about to give up the fight. His belt and pants didn't look any less strained. Bill watched the fat squeeze out through the holes between shirt buttons and felt something twinge deep inside him; Ford didn't even know he was watching - tonight's gluttony was completely of his own choosing.
He wanted to watch this for hours, weeks, millenia, but when Ford paused his eating and rested a six-fingered hand on a plump stomach that was suddenly no longer being fed, something snapped in Bill and he immediately reached for his disciple's mind.
"Bill!" Ford nearly dropped the pizza in surprise, but his hand quickly closed around it of its own accord and brought it to his mouth.
"EAT." It took no effort at all to entwine himself in each neuron of Ford's absurdly spacious brain and puppet his hand while also lighting up the relevant nerves to make his scientist see, hear, and feel him in his triangular form, floating above his bloated body and forcing more pizza into him.
After the slice was finished, Bill allowed him a brief respite to get a few words out. "My muse," Ford gasped, eyes dilated into huge black circles. "I wasn't sure when you would return..."
"CLEARLY YOU NEED ME! OTHERWISE THIS THING WOULD REMAIN PITIFULLY SMALL." Bill gave the sizeable roll of stomach fat imprisoned by the tight clothes a solid tap with Ford's hand and watched it jiggle. "YOU NEED TO BE BIGGER. KEEP EATING."
"My apologies." A burp escaped his lips. "I'll get right on that, after I..." He reached toward his belt buckle; the pants were so tight at the waist that they were cutting deeply into his fat and constricting precious stomach space that was begging to be filled with more calories.
"I'LL HANDLE IT. GET BACK TO THE PIZZA!" Bill freed Ford's pizza hand and took the other one to unbuckle the pants. It was difficult, and required a level of dexterity that neither of them were capable of at the moment, but, a slice and a half later, Bill had won his victory over the closures and freed the bottom half of Ford's soft, round gut to expand further into his lap. Bill massaged the bottom roll with one of his hands and one of Ford's, then looked up to see that his disciple's face was completely red, not just from blushing, but also from pizza sauce, as he was so focused on watching Bill fondle him that the slice kept missing his mouth.
"I DIDN'T SAY YOU COULD STOP!" Bill tried to chastise him, but the words came out much more affectionately than he wanted. It didn't seem to matter, though, because Ford immediately began to stuff himself with the pizza with enough vigor that Bill had to pause him long enough to wipe his face with his other hand and allow him to lick all six fingers clean.
"YOU SURE HAVE GROWN SINCE THE LAST TIME I SAW YOU!" With Ford dutifully filling his mouth, Bill had time to examine his body. He hadn't bought new clothes in a while, clearly, and Bill wasn't sure at this point that he'd even be able to scrape together an outfit that fit him decently enough to go shopping and find out what absurdly high clothing size he'd ballooned to in the months since they'd met.
The buttons on the shirt were so tight... Bill couldn't help himself from undoing the topmost buttons and reaching inside to grope the damage he'd done to Ford's once-muscular chest. His disciple squirmed at the touch.
"DON'T ACT LIKE YOU DON'T LIKE IT!" Bill dug through his memories to find one from not even a year ago, Ford admiring his reflection in the mirror and the changes that had been made to his broad chest and shoulders after settling into a steady exercise regimen - a regimen that Bill had ruined, of course. Almost 30 years of being a noodle, then a brief flirt with fitness before doing an abrupt turnaround into accepting an eternity as Bill's fat-filled puppet.
He pushed the memory to the front of his disciple's mind and Ford didn't try to deny the contradiction. Not verbally, at least. He moaned around the pizza, and Bill noticed his pants begin to tighten in a different way.
"OH BOY, I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS PART!" Bill cackled and put a hand - his own, not Ford's - on the bulge, and watched as Ford bit down a little too hard on the pizza and arched his back involuntarily. He let out a lovely little sigh, which Bill committed to memory immediately.
"GOOD BOY. FINISH THE REST OF THAT AND YOU'LL GET A REWARD!" Bill lightly ran a finger over the bulge and watched Ford redouble his efforts to finish the last remaining slice as fast as he could push it into his mouth. The last button on the shirt, over the roundest section of his stomach, was tantalizingly close to coming undone, and Bill couldn't tear his eye away as Ford finished swallowing, inhaled deeply, and-
PING! There it went. More importantly, the shirt stopped pretending it was able to close comfortably and rested open, leaving Ford's fattened chest and deliciously soft stomach bare to the world. Bill nudged Ford's free hand at the side of it so he could watch it jiggle while he ran his hands over all the new inches, and the new stretch marks that came with them. In the mindscape, he himself couldn't feel it, but Ford could, and he was clearly enjoying it by the way his head rolled back onto the couch with a sigh followed by a cocky smile.
"I knew you would come."
What? That didn't make sense. "MY KIND DOESN'T REALLY REPRODUCE THAT WAY, BUDDY-"
"No, no-" Ford waved his hand dismissively. "Come here. Come to me. You don't know how much I've been missing you-"
The hand caressing his stomach turned into an iron grip that would probably leave bruises come morning as Bill realized he'd been played. "YOU WHAT?"
Ford didn't even have the sense to look ashamed. "I knew if I did this you wouldn't be able to resist. You care too much about..." His self consciousness won over before he could finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear.
Bill was used to turning red when he got mad, but he was never aware of being capable of feeling... whatever this was. The need to fuck his disciple senseless so he wouldn't have to hear another word out of his stupid FUCKING mouth-
The conscious need to switch from the physical world to the mindscape never crossed his mind before they were already floating in the void. Ford, to his embarrassment and displeasure, was completely naked, and Bill realized with a sick joy that Ford was imagining himself significantly thinner than he actually was; with a twirl of his finger, Ford's mental manifestation fattened until it matched his outer self.
"I HATE TO TELL YOU THIS, BUT YOU HAVEN'T LOOKED LIKE THAT IN A WHILE, FORDSY!" Bill took great pleasure in watching his disciple look over his swollen, overfed body in shock, gripping his large stomach with both hands. "HERE, LET ME HELP!"
A dozen hands emerged from Bill's side and found their way to every spot of growing fat that Ford was ashamed of or didn't realize existed: his breasts, his love handles, his thighs, his upper arms, his jawline, and both deliciously plump ass cheeks.
"YOU SIGNED YOURSELF OVER TO ME, PAL! I'M THE ONE CALLING THE SHOTS!" Even in the mindscape, where Ford could speak as easily as he could think, his mouth sat agog and his face flushed almost as red as Bill's. "IF I WANT YOU FATTER, YOU GET FATTER! WHENEVER AND WHEREVER I FEEL LIKE IT!"
Bill was struck speechless in turn when a wave of emotion emanated from Ford - pure, raw lust. He couldn't even bring himself to be angry; it was on sheer instinct that all of his extra hands gripped every part of Ford tight, and one arm shapeshifted and inserted itself into him.
Ford moaned in painful pleasure, and it satisfied a desire in Bill that he never knew he had until just this moment, but he couldn't spare any time to dwell on it when he was so occupied with what was in front of him.
He set his arm thrusting at a steady pace as his two main hands explored all of the places he'd been itching to touch on Ford's real body. In here he could squeeze and jiggle anything he wanted, and each thrust caused fat to ripple everywhere he looked. He took advantage of the situation to entangle a hand in Ford's hair and pull, earning him another delicious moan.
He'd been too busy earlier to notice how much Ford's arms were being constrained by the shirt sleeves, which must have had rips on the inner seam where the fat drooped and sagged below his biceps. To his delight, Ford seemed particularly embarrassed about the fat accumulating on his face and neck; Bill pinched his cheeks and tightly gripped his growing second chin.
"GET USED TO IT, BLUBBER BOY! YOU'RE MINE!"
Ford moaned louder, then looked at him straight in the eye, or at least as straight as he could get when his body was jiggling wildly as the pace increased even further. Bill shivered involuntarily as twelve fingers gripped the arm holding Ford's jaw fat.
"Kiss me. Please." Like a worshiper praying to their favorite deity. "Grab me. Stroke me. Kiss me. Anything. All of it. Please. I need it. I'm yours."
Bill didn't need to be asked twice. He shoved his face into Ford's as his other hand reached down below the ball of fat to stroke him, softly and slowly at first, but with increasing intensity. A tongue, of sorts, wormed its way out of his eye-mouth and into Ford's mouth and then throat; this was probably one of those physiological features that he should avoid exposing humans to for their own sanity, but he was far past caring at this point.
MINE. MINE. MINE. The thought pulsed through him as he squeezed and tasted and grabbed and held and pulled close. Since none of this was real, he didn't have to care about being gentle in order to prolong the use of his toy, and weirdly enough, his toy seemed to like that. A lot. His arm went further into Ford than should have been physically possible, and clenching his shaft hard enough to snap it in half did little more than elicit delicious and pathetic sounds that Bill got to taste as they made their way up his windpipe.
"YOU'RE MINE. EVERY POUND OF FAT I PUT ON YOU BELONGS TO ME." It wasn't enough. There wasn't enough fat on him. He freed an arm to snap his fingers, and Ford's mental self began to grow again. It was infuriating that he couldn't do this in the real world (yet), but this was more than good enough for now. If Ford had been embarrassed by a double chin, a triple chin with a fat chest propping it up further should have been mortifying. Ford's shaft and the hand around it both got swallowed up with a fupa that grew larger than Ford's head, and the feeling of it engulfing Bill's arm was beyond description. Bill had to angle himself backward as Ford's stomach became more massive, until he got fed up with the whole thing and plopped his bottom side down onto it. God, it was soft. In a few hundred pounds, Ford's fat would make a perfect throne...
It shouldn't have been a shock that they were both approaching climax, but it still took both of them by surprise as Ford's lower muscles clenched involuntary and he simultaneously bit down harder than intended on Bill's tongue. Without any clear prompting from either direction, a part in the back of Bill's head made sure to use Ford's physical arm to grab some napkins from beside the pizza box and make sure that no stains got on the couch or the carpet as his body ejaculated at the same time.
Bill extracted his various limbs and limb-adjacent body parts from Ford until he was left with the standard two arms and two legs, holding Ford, back to his normal proportions, in a bridal carry as both his physical and mental body gasped for air. Bill felt... odd. He hadn't had a physical release the way his disciple had, but he'd felt some kind of... something... nonetheless.
It was like nothing he'd ever imagined.
Without meaning to, Bill found himself back in the real world, massaging Ford's stomach as he coughed and sputtered. He was pretty like this, too, even if his size wasn't nearly where Bill wanted it to be.
Now that they were both calmer, Bill had more time to look around.
It was nighttime. The TV was on, blaring nonsense in the background. Ford hadn't been bingeing just the two pizza boxes, but breadsticks and donuts as well, and there were more groceries on the kitchen counter. Ford was many things, but devoted would have to rank at the top of the list.
His perfect belly framed by the torn button-up shirt was beautiful; it heaved up and down as he slowly caught his breath. The sleeves were definitely ripped, not even a little bit; Bill salivated at the thought of him digging up his baggiest clothes to go out shopping... The trenchcoat would probably still fit, at least enough to cover up any other possible indecency until he could find a store that sold sizes higher than a 2XL. Bill wanted to see it for himself so badly he could-
What was stopping him? Ford was his. And even if he wasn't, Bill could watch anyone he wanted, so why be bothered? Before he could fully unravel this thread, his train of thought was derailed as Ford managed to lift his head up and take Bill's hand in his.
"I love you." They should have been past surprises long before this point, past things that were strange and new, but Bill found himself speechless again as Ford gazed at him with nothing short of reverance.
He'd expected fear, pain, and terror after what he'd done to him tonight, and even though he was long used to Ford looking at him this way, this was different, somehow. "You do?"
"Yes. I don't mind losing any of the things I've given up for this." Bill had no idea how he could possibly be so coherent right now. "My body, my miserable life on Earth. I want to do this forever. Please."
Did he really mean that? And did Bill really care if he didn't? It was hard to think at the moment. His brain emptied of all thoughts that didn't involve savoring what was right in front of him.
Unsure of what to say, Bill rested his hands on his lover's love handles and kissed him again, softly this time.
Notes:
will ford regret saying that in a few hundred pounds? who knows! don't make life decisions when you're still riding the high from mind-shattering fat alien mind sex, kids. in other news, bill has suddenly forgotten everything about "weirdmageddon," whatever that is ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯
Chapter 2
Notes:
the last chapter was supposed to be a one shot, but the billford feedist brain rot got to me and wouldn't let go until i finished this, so i guess there are going to be more chapters! enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Being confined to the mindscape infuriated Bill to no end, but the ability to pass through objects to get any vantage point he wanted came very much in handy for stalking his lover.
Bill had watched his pet sleep soundly through the night after their “activities,” then wake up and dig through his closet to find something to wear that wasn’t comically undersized; Bill had ogled him as he put on a once-baggy t-shirt and athletic shorts that now rode up and showcased his best features, considering that the waistband of the shorts had to be put below his belly and the shirt only halfway covered it, leaving a sizable amount of flab on display; now, Bill was watching his thighs and ass jiggle up close from inside the buttoned-up trenchcoat just barely keeping his pet suitable to be seen in public as he walked though the mall, trying to find a store that carried his new size.
After the second store he entered failed to have anything that fit well enough to buy, Ford was in a decidedly sour mood as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and muttered something to himself about “waiting too long to do this.” Bill emerged from under the coat and stretched his arms.
He chose the worst possible moment, when Ford was passing between a group of teens and a mother with a small child, to dip a finger into his head and light up his neurons. "HOW'S IT GOING, SIXER?"
Ford jumped and nearly bumped into one of the teens. They jeered at him, the awkward fat man wearing a fully-buttoned trenchcoat indoors, and the mother and child both stared as he stammered an apology and walked away as fast as he could.
"Don't do that," he hissed. "It's already bad enough as it is. Buttoning this coat closed makes me feel like a flasher. It looks much better open."
"SO OPEN IT!" Bill didn't have a mouth, but he didn't need one for Sixer to know he was grinning.
"You know I can't."
"THAT'S ODD! I WONDER WHY!" Bill reached through his clothes to tickle his belly and was rewarded with a jiggle as Ford gave an undignified squeak.
"Stop! I'm in public and you're being a nuisance!" His hushed whispers were less hushed than he wanted them to be. People turned and looked.
"AND DON'T YOU LOVE ME FOR IT?"
Ford put his flushed-red face down and walked faster, past the people glancing more and more his way. After rounding a turn into a thankfully empty corner, he leaned against the wall and sighed. “Can you please just tell me which one of these stores has something that will fit?”
Bill brought up the memory of Ford trying on a particularly small pair of pants at the previous store, just large enough to pull up all the way, but still tight enough that his entire stomach and the top half of his plump ass cheeks were spilling out of it. “WHY SHOULD I WHEN I COULD HAVE VIEWS LIKE THIS?”
Ford’s eyes widened in horror. “How long have you been following me?”
“I NEVER LEFT! YOU LOOK CUTE WHEN YOU SLEEP, BY THE WAY!”
His pet sighed. “Please, just tell me where to go. You can do whatever you want to me at home, but just help me make it through this reasonably unscathed, I beg of you...”
“YOU’RE LUCKY I HAVE A SOFT SPOT FOR HELPLESS PIGS LIKE YOU!” Bill ruffled his hair and flitted though several dozen minds until he found what he needed. “THERE’S A PLACE JUST A FEW STORES DOWN!”
“Thank you.” Ford set off with renewed determination. “I just want to get this over with.”
“YEAH, SURE! I DEFINITELY HAVE NO ULTERIOR MOTIVES!”
Ford glared at him. “I suppose I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“NOPE!” Bill perched on his shoulder and kicked his feet as Ford cautiously approached the store, which turned out to sell primarily baggy athletic wear.
“I TOLD YOU THEY’D HAVE SOMETHING THAT FITS!” His scientist searched through the racks for anything even remotely resembling something he would wear as Bill floated aimlessly through and around the hangers full of tracksuits and sportswear.
“HEY, LOOK AT THAT!” Bill steered his pet’s gaze to the swimwear section that held an entire display of Speedos.
“Absolutely not.” Ford kept his voice quiet as he briefly made eye contact with the employee at the counter and smiled politely.
They passed a shelf of chinos and Ford eyed them longingly, but their unyielding waistbands were enough to dissuade him. Soon enough, though, his pet had found some promising options and sequestered himself in a changing room in the far back corner of the store.
Bill thumbed through what he had picked out. “YEESH, THIS IS BORING. WHERE’S THE GOOD STUFF?”
Ford brought out a hanger from the bottom of the stack – a tank top in a size S. “I thought you might like this one.”
“NOW WE’RE TALKING! SHOW ME THE MAN TITS!”
“You are insufferable,” he said, but there was no venom in his voice as he discarded his tiny shirt for the even tinier tank top.
Bill watched with a giant dilated pupil as his pet fought to even get the thing over his head, but after a lot of struggling, and several breaks to catch his breath, it was on and pulled down as far as it would go. It clung tightly to his chest as his shoulders and arms bulged out around it, and his cleavage pushed through the low neckline in front; the bottom hem wouldn’t even contemplate rolling down over his ample stomach. Ford gasped and shivered as arms sprouted from Bill’s sides to run their hands over every curve, especially the ones constricted by the fabric.
“YOU ARE NEVER TAKING THIS OFF.”
“Muse, I need something to wear…” He stammered, unable to tear his eyes away from his own plump body in the mirror.
“FINE. BUT YOU’RE BUYING IT.”
Ford sighed in relief. “I can do that much.”
Bill thoroughly enjoyed every jiggle and ripple as the tank top and tight shorts were peeled off (Thank God this store sells boxers, his pet thought to himself as Bill watched his stomach hang lusciously out of his current ones) but booed and hissed as they were replaced with more practical clothes.
"These should suffice." Ford sighed in relief as he looked over the turtleneck sweater and black sweatpants that were intended to be fashionably oversized but were just the right amount of form-fitting for his taste; Bill was miffed at the lack of tummy showing but decided to let his pet have this small comfort.
Ford paused for a moment to stare quietly at his reflection, face inscrutable. Bill peeked just over his shoulder and they locked eyes in the mirror.
“LIKE WHAT YOU SEE?”
“It’s different than what I’m used to, but…” He called to mind his younger self, a stick from head to toe, then the brief moment when his figure pinched slightly inward like an hourglass, and then now, his silhouette more stocky and undeniably rounded. The emotion emanating from his mind wasn’t quite happiness, but rather a quiet sense of satisfaction and excitement.
Bill kissed him softly on the cheek. “I AGREE!”
Ford gave a small smile as he gathered his previous clothes and donned the trenchcoat again, open this time. "Well, we accomplished what we came to do. I'll be glad to get home and out of-"
"YOU'RE GONNA STOP BY THE FOOD COURT FIRST, RIGHT?"
He froze. "Excuse me?"
Bill lounged in the air in front of him.
"DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE GONNA MISS AN OPPORTUNITY TO EAT! THIS MALL'S GOT SOME GREAT STUFF! PROBABLY!"
Bill shuffled around in the minds of people in the food court to look at the choices: pizza, Chinese food, pretzels, burgers, salad (ugh, definitely not), fried chicken, ice cream... He forwarded the sights, sounds, and smells to his scientist, whose mouth watered involuntarily.
"I'd rather not."
"I DON'T KNOW, BUDDY, YOUR SALIVARY GLANDS SAY OTHERWISE!"
His will was wavering. "Not in public, please…"
“DO I HAVE TO REMIND YOU?” Bill towered over him, and he backed into the mirror with wide eyes and open lips. “YOU BELONG TO ME. IF I WANT YOU TO EAT, YOU EAT. CAPICHE?”
Ford found his hand moving of its own accord to grip the front of his neck – not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make the message clear. He could feel his own Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
“Y-yes. Of course.”
Predictably, his pants begin to tighten and Bill moved Ford’s other hand down past his stomach to palm the bulge. “THAT PART’S LATER! THE FASTER YOU EAT, THE FASTER WE GET THERE!”
He let go of his pet’s body and it swayed as his legs struggled to stay upright. Gripping the wall for balance, he stumbled out of the dressing room.
To Ford’s delight and Bill’s mild irritation, they managed to find a table in the food court that was out of the way and surrounded by other empty tables; Bill retaliated by making him order more than he’d wanted to – several burgers, a large order of fries, and a soda that almost took two hands to carry.
He dug into the meal, famished as he realized how long it had been since he’d had breakfast. Bill watched with glee from the sidelines.
“A FAT GUY EATING A BURGER IN PUBLIC, WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY?”
Ford rolled his eyes and swallowed. “Given that there are other fat people here also eating burgers, likely not much.” As confident as he tried to sound, he stumbled a little bit over the word “fat,” and Bill could sense his discomfort with describing himself that way.
“GETTING USED TO SOME NEW ADJECTIVES, HUH? DON’T BE SHY, IT LOOKS GOOD ON YOU!” Bill floated to the back of the chair and made a show of stretching his arms to reach around Ford’s stomach from behind.
Ford took another bite as an excuse to not reply, but he didn’t need to – Bill could see the inner turmoil brewing in his thoughts, quieted now that he was no longer concerned about clothes, but still a mess of feelings and contradictions. He was always anxious in public, and that morning had been no exception, but there was something different about it; a lack of pretense, of pretending to be something he wasn’t. It scared and thrilled him at the same time.
Bill hooked his legs over Ford’s shoulders and rested his arms on top of his head as he finished the meal. It was the perfect vantage point, a front row seat to every bite of food that went into his pet’s mouth. Ford’s thoughts hummed with a small thrill of excitement at the close supervision.
He finished the food in what felt like no time at all. “You were right... I needed that.”
Bill reached down and pinched his cheek. “GREAT JOB! WHAT’S NEXT?”
“Next?” He blushed, but looked over the lineup of foods without argument. “I suppose I could go for the fried chicken.”
Bill let him digest for a moment as he double-checked the near future for what would make his pet the happiest – a medium bucket of drumsticks and thighs, even though Bill would have preferred the largest serving they had available.
When they were back at the table, empty except for the daunting open container of food, Ford stared at it with longing and trepidation.
"I don't know if I can do this. I’ve never eaten this much before-"
SNAP! Bill lowered his fingers and Ford blinked.
"I'm... starving. What did you do?"
"I MADE SOME TWEAKS TO SOME NEURONS, THAT'S ALL!"
His pet looked unhappy, for some reason. "Bill, there is a physical limit to what my stomach can hold, and if you shut off those signals being sent to my brain, my stomach lining could tear, or worse-"
"YEAH, YEAH, I GET IT. I'LL KEEP AN EYE ON IT!"
Bill dutifully babysat his digestive organs as Ford made his way through the bucket, savoring the salt and seasonings; his muse couldn't resist reaching up and squeezing his chest as he ate.
“HEY, WHERE DO YOU THINK ALL THIS NEW FAT’S GONNA GO?”
“You’re supposed to be making sure my stomach doesn’t rupture and kill me where I sit.”
“I CAN MULTITASK!” He looked over his pet from head to toe with a thoughtful expression. “I’M GONNA SAY ARMS, MAYBE LOVE HANDLES! WHAT DO YOU THINK?”
Ford refused to dignify it with a response, but an answer floated to the front of his thoughts anyway; he tried to shoo it away by focusing intently on the chicken, but it was too late.
“AN ASS MAN, HUH?” Bill floated down and pinched both sides of his hips that stuck out over the sides of the chair. “YOU’VE ALREADY GOT A LOT GOING ON BACK HERE! I CAN’T WAIT FOR IT TO GET WORSE!”
The food court seats were small even for the average person, but the images that Bill sent of his pet’s ass and hips overflowing them were enough to make him nearly choke on the chicken bone.
“I…” He swallowed. “No comment.”
“BOO! YOU’RE NO FUN!”
Even so, Bill held off on the teasing long enough for his pet to finish the meal, barely holding back his glee at what was about to come next. Ford leaned back and exhaled slowly. “Muse, I’m not sure if I can walk back. Could you-”
SNAP! Ford doubled over in pain as his brain re-registered the fullness signals from his stomach.
“NOPE! COME ON, FAT BOY, TIME FOR SOME EXERCISE!”
“You’ve... got to be kidding me…” He hunched over the table, barely able to get the words out.
“HAHAHAHA! DO I LOOK LIKE I’M JOKING?” Bill grabbed his hair and pulled, and his pet gasped and jerked upright. “GET GOING, FATASS!”
The walk back to the car was torture, and Bill laughed and jeered as his pet dealt with the full consequences of his added weight and the ordeal of physical exertion right after a large meal. It wasn’t enough that he was huffing and puffing the entire way; when he began the drive home, Bill didn’t let up on the teasing, and to his misfortune, there was no argument to be made for concentrating on the road when a semi-omniscient dream demon was scanning the future to ensure they made it back in one piece.
When they finally parked in front of his house, Ford could barely manage to shuffle inside and discard his coat and shoes off before collapsing on the recliner and groaning in a way that made Bill’s vision blur. He set to work immediately using Ford’s hands to massage his bloated stomach, coaxing out burps and soothing the pressure as much as he could.
When they entered the mindscape, Bill wolf whistled at the sight of his pet imagining himself larger than his physical body this time.
“WOW, SOMEONE’S SELF CONSCIOUS!”
“Of course I am. That was humiliating.” Ford tried to cross his arms, but the bulk of fat around his chest and biceps made it difficult.
“BUT YOU STILL LIKED IT.”
His pet didn’t deny it. “Can we get on with this?”
Bill wagged his finger. "NOT YET!" He pointed, and Ford’s body shrunk down to its accurate size. Ford pouted and glared at him.
"WHY WERE YOU AT THE MALL TODAY?"
"What do you mean 'why'? You know why!"
"I WANT YOU TO SAY IT."
"Absolutely not." The words were firm, but the blood flowing to his face was betraying him.
"SOUNDS LIKE SOMEONE'S ASHAMED!" Bill poked his pet's double chin. "THAT'S NO WAY TO TREAT YOUR MUSE!"
"I'm not ashamed, I just..." Ford was turning redder and redder by the second.
"THEN SAY IT!"
"I was buying new clothes."
"AND WHY DID YOU NEED NEW CLOTHES?"
Even his ears were flushed with blood now. "Because I gained weight-"
"CUT THE CRAP, SIXER!" Bill reached down between his legs and grabbed a roll of thigh fat that was red and sore where it had chafed from the walk.
Ford swallowed, eyes wide. "Because I got fat. For you."
"GOOD BOY." Bill ran a hand lovingly through his hair and Ford leaned into the touch. Bill could feel his pulse pounding through his skin. "DO YOU LIKE IT?"
"L-like what?"
"DON'T PLAY DUMB, IQ! IT DOESN'T SUIT YOU!"
"Being fat? I..." Ford looked down at his naked body, and Bill took the opportunity to run his hands over every pound of it, gently squeezing his favorite parts. He was silent for a moment, but Bill thought better of prodding him more than he already had, given that the heart rate of his physical body was dangerously high at the moment. His pet formulated his words with great difficulty.
"I pretended to be unconcerned with my body for a long time – the 'noodle' years, as you called them. For the first 18 years of my life, I tried not to think about my appearance; I felt that since I had six fingers, I would be considered a freak no matter what I looked like. In college, I was too focused on my studies to care, to the point where I was barely eating enough to survive. Then, I moved here, and took an interest in my fitness and abilities for the first time." Ford made eye contact with Bill and then looked away sheepishly. "And then I met you. And my efforts to change my body took on a different shape. And I took on a different shape. It was satisfying, like scratching an itch I had never noticed. It feels... It feels right. For what might be the first time in my life, I feel at home in this body, that this body actually belongs to me. And, well... It's nice having someone who finds me attractive. It's nice having someone who wants to do this with me, to engage in my more socially unacceptable desires."
"JEEZ, LEAVE IT TO YOU TO TURN IN AN ESSAY FOR A SHORT ANSWER QUESTION!" Even as he said that, he couldn't pretend to be mad. Arms wound around Ford's entire body and he pulled him close and kissed him, gently at first, then more aggressively.
The intensity was too much – Bill irritatedly checked his heart rate again and found it still too high for comfort. He put a hand to Ford’s head in the mindscape and soothed his thoughts, waiting patiently until his physical body caught up and settled into something more reasonable.
“I fear I may have already had too much excitement for today,” Ford lamented, letting Bill cradle his head in both hands. His lust was quickly fading into exhaustion as his body prepared to shut down for sleep.
Why did Bill care? He could force this body, that belonged to him and that he fed and grew, to cooperate, to be intimate for as long as he wanted, but it felt wrong for some reason. What kind of caretaker would he be to push his pet so hard, after he had been so obedient all day? Wasn’t his goal to let Ford have everything he’d ever wanted?
With a sigh, he shifted the body into a more comfortable position and reclined the seat back. In the mindscape, Ford looked at him with love in his eyes.
“I like being yours,” he said, unprompted.
Bill blinked at him, long and slow. “I SURE HOPE SO! I’M IN THIS FOR THE LONG HAUL, BUDDY!”
He pulled his scientist close again and they talked and laughed until Ford’s thoughts became less and less coherent as he slipped into a food coma. Bill could have continued their conversation in the mindscape, but he leaned back and waited to see what Ford would dream about without his interference.
His pet dreamt of the stars, of seeing places farther out than any human had ever been; of being enveloped in softness, warm and comfortable. Of being fed, nonstop, every single one of his favorite foods, as much as he wanted. Bill giggled at that; Ford would never have admitted to these fantasies in his conscious state.
The visions continued, blurry and unfocused. Bill looked at his pet’s perfect, beloved form, both hands resting comfortably on his stomach, and settled down beside him to watch him until morning.
Notes:
huh. it's almost like being treated well makes you want to treat other people well. it works in this au... not so much in canon. at this rate, ford's not even going to fit through the portal when it finally opens!
i can't promise more chapters soon, or more chapters at all, but these two feedist idiots are circling around inside my brain now, so who knows! i'm super burned out after spending the past week working on these two chapters nonstop, so it's (probably) going to be a while before the next chapter does or does not manifest. i did not go into this with a plan beyond ch 1, so i guess we'll find out where this goes together!
Chapter 3
Notes:
if you're reading this, i've failed to put this project down and work on something more productive. enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
He knew Bill wasn’t following him.
He’d tested it, just in case; the breakfast he ate was large, larger than he wanted, and he spent at least half an hour lying nearly naked on the couch before he was certain. Of course, Bill had told him he’d be gone – he had agreed to be more communicative about his comings and goings, and about what he was doing when he left – but Ford needed to be sure of it before embarking on what he was about to do.
The hiking boots were dry and dusty from lack of use, and to his irritation he had to retie the laces because the arch and ankle were no longer large enough for his feet and lower legs; he had a t-shirt that was loose enough to move comfortably in, but his most athletic pair of pants were sweatpants that only just fit, and were constricting when he sat down.
He was hoping to not spend much time today sitting down.
The weather was good and the forest was brimming with the appropriate seasonal flora and fauna, just as he remembered it. His trenchcoat no longer fit, so his journal with the map and directions was stored in a bag slung over his shoulder; it hit his side higher up that he would have liked, nearly to his chest rather than down by his hips, but at the very least it meant that it was easily within reach.
That was the only thing about this that was easy. The trail, or lack thereof, was challenging, a testament to how his destination had not been accessed by other human beings for at least a millennium before he himself had stumbled across it two years ago. It was grueling physical exertion, and his weakened muscles hated him for it. He had to stop at least half a dozen times on the way, collapsing against a tree and panting. He’d at least remembered to bring a water bottle.
At long last, a rock cliff came into sight, and he could just make out the well-concealed opening at the base. He slunk into the cave entrance, almost completely spent, and found a portion of the cave wall that was slanted at just the right angle to lay against it and rest his back and legs. The cool rock felt like bliss against his sweaty, overheated body.
A gust of wind struck up outside, blowing the tree branches in odd directions. Stanford felt a creeping sensation on his lower calf, which traveled up his leg, wound leisurely in a corkscrew around his abdomen, and finished at his forehead before his Muse popped into view with a quick little spin for show.
“YEESH, YOU LOOK TIRED! YOU KNOW, YOU’RE NOT REALLY BUILT FOR THIS KIND OF THING ANYMORE!”
“I’m acutely aware.” His right hand moved of its own accord to grab the water bottle and bring it to his lips.
“THIS PLACE SURE BRINGS BACK MEMORIES! TRYING TO RECREATE OUR FIRST DATE?”
“Something like that.”
He knew Bill would show up eventually, either here or back at the lab. It was a relief and a condemnation, all at once.
“SO WHAT BRINGS A GUY LIKE YOU TO A PLACE LIKE THIS?” Bill winked at him.
“This is the last thing I did before we met.” If he turned his head, he could see the drawings all along the cave walls, more numerous the further in. “I wanted to see if I could still do it.”
“I’M IMPRESSED, TO BE HONEST! I DIDN’T THINK YOU COULD!”
“I didn’t think I could either.”
They sat in silence as Ford caught his breath and let Bill borrow his hands to clean sweat from the places it had collected: his underarms, under his breasts, between his back rolls, behind his knees, inside his elbows, and between his stomach and thighs. The process was mortifying, but he opted to sit back and let it happen while he wallowed in self pity.
When he was done, Bill perched on his stomach fat, not even a foot from his face, and stared at him. “ARE YOU GONNA TELL ME THE OTHER THING THAT’S ON YOUR MIND?”
“I don’t know what to say.”
He felt Bill thumbing through his thoughts like a Rolodex.
“SOUNDS LIKE YOU’RE ASHAMED. I THOUGHT YOU LIKED BEING MY PET!” Bill playfully pinched one of his side rolls.
“I…” I do, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t get the words out. This was the wrong time for blood to be rushing to his groin; it made it impossible to think. How could he reconcile this with… the entire rest of his life?
“THIS IS YOUR LIFE, FORDSY! IT’S WHAT YOU WANT!”
Bill wasn’t wrong. The time they spent together made him want to throw everything else out the window and dedicate his existence to being pampered by his lover while learning everything he can about the secrets of the multiverse, but when he stepped back, when he thought about himself, about his childhood and his life plans, it was like being drenched in ice water. He was supposed to turn in groundbreaking research. He was supposed to earn millions and return home a hero, loved by all.
Ford looked past Bill down at the waistband of his sweatpants struggle to contain his massive stomach. It was tight enough that it made a muffin top when he sat down. His fleshy, unshapely legs were sprawled out, exhausted from a mere two miles of hiking. Was this what a hero looked like?
He could tell Bill was unhappy. Bill didn’t like it when he was upset, and usually addressed the problem right away, but what exactly was he going to do about this? What were either of them going to do about this?
A hand reached up and caressed the side of his face. Tears formed at the corner of Ford’s eyes.
“I’ve seen your fantasies; me, at more than 700 pounds, maybe even a half ton. Being used as your personal throne as you announce yourself to humanity, or whatever it is you plan on doing.” He rubbed his lower back. Was it ever going to stop hurting?
“YEAH! IT’S GREAT, ISN’T IT? JUST ONE PORTAL AWAY!” Bill clearly believed his own words, but they came out unsteady. Ford’s other hand lifted itself up and wiped his eyes.
His reply came out far angrier than intended. “Do you understand why that’s upsetting? At that size, how could I expect to be taken seriously? As a scientist, as an academic? As a person?”
Bill shrugged. “WHO WOULD TAKE ANYONE BUT YOU SERIOUSLY? EVERY OTHER STUPID HUMAN ON THIS MUDBALL IS GOING TO SEE HOW MUCH BETTER AND MORE HANDSOME YOU ARE AND KICK THEMSELVES FOR NOT BEING BORN INTERESTING!”
“That’s not how it works. To humans, being fat is a bad thing. They wouldn’t envy me, they would mock me!”
“HUMANS LOVE BEING FAT! I’VE SEEN IT FIRSTHAND!” Bill showed him memories that were so stunningly clear that it still made his head reel, considering their contents: a banquet in Medieval Europe where nobility ate seven-course meals without care in fine clothes with ample fabric; a young woman in turn-of-the-century Tunisia drinking camel’s milk to gain weight; monstrously fat people being used as sideshow attractions across nineteenth-century America; an artist in the Holy Roman Empire painting a plump nude model posed behind his canvas; a strange, futuristic setting where pictures of a very large and very naked fat man were displayed in impressive color and sharpness on a large, flat television monitor. Centuries, if not millennia, of fat people loving and being loved, across all times and cultures.
His head was reeling. There was so much information, and he wanted to believe it so badly… But he turned away and, with raw force of will, grounded himself back in reality.
“This all may be true, but how many of those people were respected? How many were treated as though they had worth? And how many of them are living in the United States, right now, in 1981?”
Bill tapped the area directly below his eye in thought. Ford could sense through their connection that he was having difficulty parsing the questions. “TO ANSWER THAT LAST PART, NOT MANY! FOR THE FIRST TWO… HARD TO TELL! HUMANS REALLY LIKE TO CHANGE THEIR MINDS!”
Ford sighed. “Can you please try to see it from my perspective?”
“I’M ALWAYS SEEING THROUGH YOUR PERSPECTIVE! I’M IN YOUR MIND, BUDDY!”
“Just because you’re in there doesn’t mean you’re listening. It doesn’t mean you understand what you’re seeing.”
He often surprised himself at how much he was able to understand his triangle’s body language despite them being so different anatomically. The unmoving stare and slow blink he received was different than the curious or lustful expressions he saw on a regular basis; it was blank and uncomprehending, somewhat like a cat smelling a confusing new scent for the first time.
“I DON’T GET WHY YOU CARE WHAT THEY THINK.”
“It’s… It’s not how others are supposed to see me. This isn’t what they expect me to look like.”
Bill replayed a memory from their mall trip a few months ago, when he first tried on the clothes he had almost outgrown by now. The version of him in that dressing room was fascinated with his reflection, awestruck at how it felt to fully take control of his body for the first time. The irony was not lost on him that taking control meant giving control to Bill, but the two choices were one and the same in his mind; he had decided to give in and he’d enjoyed it. Far from how miserable and helpless he felt now.
“I KNOW YOU LIKE THE WAY I MAKE YOU FEEL. WHY CARE ABOUT ANYONE ELSE?”
How had he felt so confident in that moment, after being paraded around the mall like a prize show pig? It was bad enough that he’d spent his life feeling judged for the things he tried to be, let alone feeling so exposed about something that was so deep and true to himself.
He liked his body. He liked the way it looked. He liked feeling large and soft and he liked being taken care of by his lover. He liked being praised and feeling special, and smart, and valued. He liked being squeezed and jiggled and treated far more roughly in the mindscape. He even liked being teased, reminded of his shame.
It was just the outside world that was the problem.
It was so easy to give into the urges when he was being ordered around and then fucked senseless. Bill made it so he didn’t even have to think: he was told what to do and he did it, happily, every time. And then he woke up the next morning wondering what on Earth was wrong with him, why he was so eager to throw his life away for someone who didn’t even exist in the same dimension as he did. He’d put so much work into being someone worthy of respect, but his time with Bill had completely undone everything.
Bill stared at him, and he could feel a rush of emotions through their bond. Sadness, anger. Fear.
Ford stared back. “I’m sorry, Muse, but my entire life I’ve been a freak. I would give anything to just be normal.”
“NORMAL?” Bill balled his hands into fists and rose into the air. “DID YOU EARN TWELVE DOCTORATES AND MOVE TO THE WEIRDEST TOWN IN THE CONTINENTAL UNITED STATES TO BE NORMAL?”
He turned away in shame. “I guess not.”
“IF YOU WANT NORMAL, GO BACK TO GLASS SHARD BEACH! GO BACK TO FILBRICK AND CARYN, LIVING TINY LIVES IN A TINY APARTMENT OVER A TINY PAWN SHOP! GO BACK TO BEING BORED FOR THE REST OF YOUR FLEETING EXISTENCE!”
The words stung. Ford turned back to Bill, taking in his sharp edges. He loved this face, he knew he did, but he didn’t remember being given a choice about it. One day he was alone and the next he was not.
“What would you have done if I had said ‘no’ when we met?”
“YOU WOULDN’T HAVE.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I CAN READ YOUR THOUGHTS! WHY WASTE TIME ASKING?”
“It’s not the same thing.”
Bill crossed his arms. “IF IT GETS US TO THE SAME PLACE, I DON’T SEE THE DIFFERENCE!”
“It’s not the destination that matters.”
They both simmered in silence, Ford still lying limply on the ground and Bill floating in fast, loose circles in midair.
Bill was right. It was silly to still be worried about grants and academia and social standing when his life was so much bigger than that now. Once the portal was open, how much time would he even be spending on earth when he could be exploring the cosmos? College was fun, but nothing else made him feel alive quite like this.
He broke the silence. “I’m not ashamed of you.”
His Muse muttered and ran a hand through his hair in a silent apology, which he accepted, and soon enough he found himself with Bill on his shoulder and a long arm reaching down to entwine their hands.
“I MIGHT HAVE BEEN A BIT HARSH.”
“Perhaps.” He looked at their hands, Bill’s four held in his six; his own hands were noticeably chubbier than they used to be. “But it might have been warranted.”
Bill’s memories floated absentmindedly through their link: coming across a dimension with the most interesting creatures he had ever seen, learning that these creatures had the ability to automatically create fat stores from excess energy consumption, being summoned by a human thousands of years later who not only had a brilliant, fascinating mind and strong spirit, but also a repressed, deep-seated desire to gain weight. And now that human, the love of his life, was having second thoughts about their relationship.
“I wish you’d given me more time, but… I choose you. I think I would choose you in any universe.”
Bill’s hand squeezed his and he felt a kiss against his hair.
“I suppose it doesn’t make sense for me to be picky about what ‘weird’ things I’m willing to engage in. Not if it makes me happy. If it makes us happy.”
Indulging in a weight gain fetish with a demon from another dimension might be the weirdest thing a human being had ever done – maybe it was fitting that that human got to be him.
“I’d like to go home now, if that’s alright with you.”
“OF COURSE IT IS! SOMEONE’S GOTTA MAKE SURE YOU DON’T HAVE A CALORIE DEFICIT TODAY!” Bill offered him a (purely symbolic) hand up, but Ford could feel their combined strength inside him as he rose from the cave floor.
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to do this more often… Although perhaps a bit closer to home.”
“SURE!” Bill ogled his breasts as they wobbled and bounced while he walked. “HARD TO SAY NO TO THIS VIEW!”
He was already panting. “This might take a while.”
“BY THE WAY, WHEN WE GET HOME YOU’RE EATING AN ENTIRE SHEET CAKE!”
Ford laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.”
Notes:
sorry it's been two chapters since they've had sex. i'll put nasty stuff in the next one i prommy
bill kinda got off scot free this chapter despite being completely dismissive of consent through this whole process... but ford's a little caught up in his own problems to notice. i gotta say though, it's nice writing a nicer bill than canon. i like making him do fruity little things for ford, it's good enrichment for him.
also i'm dropping the link to my gf sideblog on tumblr. please talk to me about this fic that is running through my head nonstop i beg of thee
ad-asstra-per-aspera.tumblr.com
Chapter Text
It wasn’t until his fat boy was relaxing in a warm bath with a chocolate sheet cake on a table within reach before Bill could feel like things were staring to get back to normal.
He had to be more on top of this. Sixer needed a steady supply of turtlenecks, adoration, and mysterious phenomena worth his mental caliber, or else he was liable to do stupid things like walk two miles to a cave to brood. It was disgusting that he couldn’t interact with Ford’s body without using Ford’s own hands to do the job; the way it should be was that his pet wouldn’t have to lift a finger for anything except the fun stuff, like examining a never-before-seen species of moth, or waddling to the car to pick up groceries.
Or working on the portal.
At nearly 400 pounds, that was beginning to get very difficult, but Bill didn’t have time to worry about that at the moment when his pet had sore muscles, a bruised ego, and an empty stomach. The hot water addressed the first, he’d done his best pep talk at the cave for the second, and the third one was next on the agenda.
Ford looked wonderful, as usual, despite his clear exhaustion. The bathroom lights were off, and only the warm, dim glow of a nightlight lit his frame. A well-placed towel cushioned his head as his soft, round body nearly overfilled the claw foot tub, leaving just enough room for the steaming water to surround all the parts of him that weren’t wedged firmly against the ceramic. His pet sighed in satisfaction, and Bill couldn’t help but run a hand over the curves he could reach.
This was good. This was how it was supposed to be. Bill allowed himself a moment to take in the sight before getting back to the task at hand; there were 10,000 calories of cake that needed to stop being on the table and start being in his pet’s digestive system as fast as possible.
He could handle it all, Bill was sure, even without looking into the future. His capacity had increased exponentially as Bill learned how to push just the right buttons to make him give in, more and more, every time. On an empty stomach, this should be just within reach.
Ford opened his eyes as Bill used his hands to cut the cake into neat pieces. “Muse, what are-”
Bill put a finger to his lips. “NO MORE THINKING! YOU’VE BEEN DOING TOO MUCH OF THAT LATELY!”
“But I-”
Bill abandoned the cake knife in favor of taking a messy handful and shoving it directly into his pet’s mouth.
“THE ONLY THING YOU’RE GOING TO OPEN YOUR MOUTH FOR IS MORE FOOD.” His pet blinked in shock, then sighed dreamily around the mouthful and began to chew, closing his eyes again.
This was good. This is how it was supposed to be.
Seeing Ford so upset had been terrifying. Bill didn’t understand why he wouldn’t let himself enjoy his new life – he had everything he needed, and he was loved and pampered on a regular basis. Bill knew he was satisfied. The hurricane in Ford’s subconscious had subsided quite a bit, and his pet slept much more soundly at night than he had a year and a half before. He must still need… something. Bill had to figure out what that was.
Ford’s eyes fluttered open again as he eagerly finished the lump of cake, and Bill allowed him to lick his fingers clean before serving him with a plate and fork this time. Filling him with cake forkful by forkful was a lot more fun, especially with the way Sixer looked at him every time he closed his lips around the food. It was a rush like nothing else.
GOOD BOY. The peace was too hard-won to spoil it by talking. YOU WORRY TOO MUCH. LET ME DO THE HARD STUFF! Tonight, Ford was happy to comply, and he accepted every bite with nothing more than a loving glance.
There were things Bill wanted to say to him, but he had no idea how to put it into words. It was wrong that he should be ashamed of anything about his life or his body, even if Bill enjoyed teasing him from time to time. It wasn’t a matter of forcing something on him he didn’t want – Bill knew everything Ford had ever wanted, and, if he put the effort in, could plan ahead for everything he ever would want – but a matter of trying to understand why his lover would not let himself want the things he wanted most.
Bill told himself that he could accept it if Sixer ever said no and meant it. He never would have been nearly as interested in him as he was if he hadn’t seen the sheer desperation below the surface; a need to please, a need to be pleased, a need for attention, and love, and care. A desperate need to no longer feel unlovable and unattractive, even if he hadn’t yet realized that his desire was to gain fat rather than muscle. And Bill had done all that for him and more, filled him up with praise and food as he grew more comfortable with himself and with their relationship.
He pushed a particularly large forkful of cake into his pet’s mouth, and his cheeks bulged as he chewed it. Bill sighed and ran a hand along his pet’s double chin, perfectly plump and perfectly accentuated by the angle of his head resting against the bathroom wall.
Sixer was still thinking, of course, but his thoughts were sluggish after the day’s events, not to mention being stuffed with cake. He was determined to enjoy this, and it wasn’t hard when Bill was lavishing him with everything he had. Bill couldn’t help but interrupt the next bite with a kiss, deep and slow. He ran his hands down his neck, over his collarbone that had long been swallowed up by fat, down his flabby biceps and ending at his breasts, larger and more squeezable than they had ever been.
I still choose you, Ford had said, and Bill did his best to return the favor as profoundly as he could, sending the wordless thought to his pet over and over: I chose you. You’re mine. Out of all time and space, I would choose you again and again and again. A trillion years of existence, and you are the first thing that has ever mattered to me.
Sixer returned the kiss with a hunger that surprised him. I love you. I’m sorry I doubted us for even a second.
Bill shielded his thoughts. It wasn’t that his pet had done anything wrong that needed apology, it was the fact that he’d felt that way in the first place. It wasn’t right if there was a single moment he was ever less than perfectly satisfied.
The cake was almost done, and Ford was having greater difficulty chewing and swallowing. Bill insistently pushed the fork in his mouth. COME ON FAT BOY! EAT!
He was so devoted, so eager to please. It didn’t matter that this was the most he’d ever eaten, or that his stomach was struggling to contain it all. Bill held food to his lips and he ate.
This was good. This was how it was supposed to be.
At last he swallowed the final piece, and Bill pulled them both into the mindscape as Ford’s body sank into a food coma; his mindscape self blinked and shook his head as if awoken from a deep sleep.
“HOW’S IT GOING, SIXER? FEELING BETTER YET?”
Ford’s answer was to pull him roughly by the arms and kiss him, hard, turning them so that he was on top, breasts squishing into Bill’s bottom side and stomach hanging low into the void. Bill accepted the kiss for a moment, running his hands along his pet’s side rolls, until he bit down on Ford’s bottom lip and claws emerged from his fingertips to scratch red lines across his lover’s back. Ford gasped, and Bill took the opportunity to extricate himself and summon several arms to wrap around his pet’s limbs and immobilize them, leaving every inch of his body prone and freely accessible.
“WHOA, TIGER!” Bill tightened the restraints just to watch the fat bulge out between them. “I APPRECIATE THE ENTHUSIASM, BUT DON’T FORGET WHO’S IN CHARGE.”
He leisurely examined his pet’s body, no longer obscured by the bathtub. The massive dollop of fat around his abdomen, drooping far down into the void, caught his attention, and Bill resized a hand so that the palm was just big enough to cup it and feel its heft. The sheer weight of it made both of them salivate.
“WOW, YOU SURE ARE HEAVY! AND I DON’T SAY THAT LIGHTLY!”
Staring at it, Bill was overcome with a sudden desire to taste it, to hold the entire thing in his mouth. He increased his size appropriately and wrapped his lips around its girth.
It was delicious. The flavor of human skin, blood, and fat, combined with the soft and delightfully squishy texture, were enough to make Bill let out an embarrassingly needy moan and dig his teeth in. His tongue flitted around the surface area, and then darted to the middle and inserted itself several inches into the belly button.
Ford’s breath hitched, and he let out a long, breathy sigh; Bill returned the gesture by grabbing the backs of his thighs and digging his claws into the cellulite.
Wait – he needed to check something. In the real world, he reached for his pet’s belly button and stuck a finger in experimentally. The neurons in his brain flashed in dazzling patterns, and his body, still asleep, whimpered softly.
Oh, this was fun.
In the mindscape, Bill swirled his tongue in a way that made Ford gasp and struggle against his bonds. Bill reluctantly pulled away from his stomach and looked him over – red, panting, and now sopping wet, unable to do anything except stare at his muse with dilated pupils and a desperate, needy look.
“YOU KNOW, I LIKE YOU LIKE THIS!” Bill rotated him upright and ran a finger along the side of his chubby face. “THERE’S SOMETHING THAT JUST FEELS RIGHT ABOUT FUCKING A SMART GUY STUPID!”
Ford clearly didn’t have it in him anymore to beg, or plead, or do much of anything besides want, in waves of lust that almost made Bill give in right there and let him finish.
“NOT YET!” Bill patted the top of his stomach and watched it ripple. “I HAVEN’T EVEN HAD A CHANCE TO TELL YOU WHAT A GOOD BOY YOU ARE FOR EATING SO MUCH FOR ME!”
He sat down on his pet’s stomach, even more comfortable than the last time he’d done that, and started playing with his breasts absentmindedly.
“THE FUNNY THING IS, THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED TO YOU EVENTUALLY!” He circled a large nipple with the tip of a claw. “YOU CAN’T HOLD BACK YOUR REAL DESIRES FOREVER!”
Each lump of fat was big enough to need two hands to hold. Bill weighed one in his palms approvingly.
“I’M SURPRISED YOU DIDN’T CRACK IN COLLEGE! MOST PEOPLE DISCOVER A LOT OF THINGS ABOUT THEMSELVES AT THAT AGE!”
He ran his tongue over the nipple and Ford’s breath hitched again.
“BUT THAT’S THE THING ABOUT YOU, SIXER! YOU’RE DETERMINED! YOU COULD EVEN SAY IT’S YOUR FATAL FLAW!”
He grabbed one in each hand and sunk his claws in.
“YOU GET THIS IDEA IN YOUR HEAD ABOUT HOW THE WORLD SHOULD BE AND YOU DON’T STOP UNTIL YOU’VE MADE IT HAPPEN!”
He let go of the breasts and ran his hands along Ford’s neck and shoulders.
“BUT TAKE MY ADVICE: SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA LEARN HOW TO CHANGE COURSE!” Bill left a thin line of red down his pet’s double chin. “ESPECIALLY WHEN IT MEANS DROPPING EVERYTHING TO BECOME MY FAT PIG! ALTHOUGH I MIGHT BE A LITTLE BIASED IN THIS CASE!”
He moved his hand down, lightly trailing the neck, then breasts, then stomach, then-
Sixer gasped, and his heartrate began to pick up. “Please, please…”
“YOU KNOW WHAT, I THINK YOU’VE EARNED YOUR REWARD!” Bill reached past the fupa and ran a finger down him gently. “BUT ONE LAST THING: ONCE THAT PORTAL IS FINISHED, YOU DON’T HAVE TO STAY ON EARTH ANY LONGER THAN YOU WANT TO. JUST SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT!”
He unceremoniously grabbed the shaft and squeezed, hard enough to break it, hard enough to rip it clean off if he wanted to; it was more than enough for Sixer, already close to the edge, and he sighed in profound relief as the waves washed over him. He shuddered for several seconds, then slumped back against the restraints.
Bill let him fall immediately asleep. His pet had had enough for one day; he deserved the rest.
Moving the body from the bathroom to the bedroom was a challenge; even making it out of the tub required looking through Sixer’s memory (flip onto his stomach, get up on one knee with both hands gripping the sides of the tub for support, put the ball of the other foot on the tub floor, and push the knee up so that the other leg rolled back into an upright position at the same time), and carrying that much weight around made him even more impressed that Ford had managed to drag this body through miles of dense forest and emerge with nothing worse than a few bruises and sore muscles.
At last, the body was dried and clothed in the comfiest pajamas he could find, and he settled it into bed in Sixer’s preferred sleeping position. Bill perched on the pillow and watched his dreams: a tumultuous recollection of the day’s events, fractured into bits and pieces and mixed together into a nonsensical potpourri of sights, sounds, and emotions. Deep in the middle, though, below the parts filled with laughter, and love, and lots and lots of food, there was still an ache, a sense of melancholy wedged at the very bottom, that wouldn’t move.
Even though he was asleep and couldn’t feel it, Bill wound his arms around his pet and held him. He continued to monitor his dreams throughout the night.
Notes:
i think i might Actually have to take a break now… we’ll see if this is true or just another false alarm.
this fic is not going according to keikaku, although saying that is a little misleading because it implies that there WAS a keikaku, which there was not. a few days ago i had a beautiful and terrible vision while of what the ending is going to be like and oh my stars it is… something.
i just wanted to write ford getting fed and fucked, man. what the hell is all this
once again, follow me on tumblr: ad-asstra-per-aspera.tumblr.com
Chapter 5
Notes:
this is the chapter that officially gets the dubcon tag added to this fic!
remember, kids, if bill in this fic reminds you of anything you've experienced before... that's not good.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Eighteen Months Earlier
Humans were strange creatures.
Bill had seen plenty of living things in his time in, around, and between dimensions; there were only so many ways you could combine a few hundred elements into something that was self-sufficient enough for basic life. It was simple thermodynamics – organisms needed energy to survive, and they obtained only the necessary amount of energy whatever way they were designed to, be it through light, radiation, gas, liquids, solids. But a physiological process in which excess energy consumption was automatically stored within an individual body for further use… that was something he’d never seen before. That was special.
He’d taken it as a slightly interesting anomaly when he first observed it on Earth, but given a few million years, when enough time had passed for a species to evolve that achieved full sapience, and it began to take up more of his attention. But humans were so fickle, and their standards for “whatever physical attributes in other people told their brains to make their hormones do the reproduction thing” couldn’t even be bothered to stay consistent across a century, let alone the tens of thousands of years between when they first evolved to when he met the most important member of their kind.
And it was that moment, when a spell was broken and a summon was cast, that he descended upon what was once a small human village in a forest valley that had been abandoned then resettled hundreds of years later and was at this current point in time referred to as “the United States” and “Oregon” and “Gravity Falls” to find the first human being he knew for certain was beautiful.
The human who summoned him had brown hair, light skin, a square jaw, and a stocky but relatively athletic build, but, more importantly, he had a dazzling mind, and a subconscious that was hungry for so many things: knowledge, fame, attention… and food. One of these creatures, with their fascinating ability to ingest more than they needed and append the excess to their physical form, had chosen him, had chosen a future in which they would be-
He flipped through the options. There were so many, each one more perfect and beautiful than the last. The reasons he had wanted access to Earth for so long all seemed meaningless now compared to the man currently dozing against the trunk of a birch tree, blissfully innocent and unaware.
Bill lifted him ever so gently into the mindscape, making it seem like a dream.
“HIYA SMART GUY!”
It was adorable, the way the creature looked around at the blue starry void in wonder. “Who are you? Where am I?”
“WE’LL HAVE TIME FOR QUESTIONS LATER!” Bill twirled a finger and manifested two chairs and a table with a chess board and two cups of tea. “COME, SIT! YOU LIKE CHESS? I IMAGINE IT’S NOT MUCH OF A CHALLENGE FOR A GUY WITH YOUR IQ!”
Stanford Filbrick Pines blushed and rubbed the back of his head as he sat, tentatively, on the edge of the chair. “It’s among my favorite board games, yes. How do you know who I am?”
“I KNOW EVERY HUMAN THAT MATTERS!” Bill sat on his own chair and crossed one leg over his knee. “BESIDES, YOU’RE THE ONE THAT SUMMONED ME!”
Ford perked up. “Is that what the incantation did?”
“YEP! JUDGING BY THE FACT THAT YOU IGNORED ALL THOSE WARNINGS, YOU DON’T SEEM GREAT AT FOLLOWING INSTRUCTIONS!”
“My apologies, but it was in the name of science. I’m on a mission to discover the source of the supernatural anomalies in this town. Do you know anything about that?”
“MAYBE! AND MAYBE I’LL TELL YOU IF YOU WIN AGAINST ME!”
Bill moved a pawn to the center of the board. Ford didn’t have a chance to respond before Bill clapped his hands once again.
“OH, RIGHT! ONE OTHER THING!” A tray of food appeared at Ford’s side, serving an assortment of pastries and a serving dish of jelly beans. “FEEL FREE TO EAT AS MUCH AS YOU WANT!”
“I… Thank you.” No reaction, except to take a single jelly bean and return to pondering the board.
Bill seethed. Nothing? Nothing at all? He dug through Ford’s subconscious and found an intense focus on the food next to him, but the conscious mind didn’t even seem to register it, and ignored the tray completely in favor of the game. God, this man was repressed.
Ford ended up choosing a fairly standard response to his opener, and Bill internally rolled his eyes and chose a highly unconventional move that made the man blink in surprise.
“You must have some kind of remarkable strategy, I imagine.”
“YEAH, I DO!” He scanned the futures for the funniest outcome, the right sequence of moves to give Sixer a run for his money while still letting him win in the end, all the time driving him crazy trying to figure out what Bill was up to.
What Bill was up to mostly consisted of ogling him while he decided his next move. Humans had never been desirable to him before, but there was something about the man sitting across from him, tapping one of his six fingers on his chin and using two on the other hand to touch pieces around the board thoughtfully. Everything about him was attractive: his messy hair, his broad shoulders, the forearms bared by his pushed up sleeves, and his eyes, his beautiful dark brown eyes… They weren’t naive, per se, but they had a certain vivacity and spirit that pulled Bill in like a sinkhole.
The eyes looked up from the game for a brief moment. “Is there anything else I can ask you about, or does that also have to wait until the game is over?”
“HOW ABOUT YOU ASK ME A QUESTION, I ASK YOU ONE!”
“Alright. How much do you know about me?”
“EVERYTHING! YOUR FULL NAME, ADDRESS, SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER, CREDIT SCORE, WHAT YOUR CHILDHOOD WAS LIKE, WHAT YOU’RE THINKING RIGHT NOW, EVEN YOUR MOST HIDDEN DESIRE!”
“Hidden desire? What do you mean?”
“IT’S MY TURN TO ASK A QUESTION! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOST HIDDEN DESIRE IS?”
Ford popped a few jelly beans into his mouth and chewed in thought. “I have some suspicions. I’m assuming you know about my brother… Is it related to him?”
“CLOSE, BUT NO CIGAR! THAT WAS YOUR QUESTION, BY THE WAY!”
Ford laughed. “Fair enough. Ask away.”
“DO YOU WANT TO KNOW THE REAL REASON YOU READ THAT INCANTATION?”
“What?” Ford moved his next piece – a poor, rushed decision – and looked up to make eye contact. “I told you, I’m investigating the anomalies-”
“SURE, BUT THAT’S NOT THE ONLY THING!” Bill made another wild move, putting his knight square in the middle of the other side of the board for no reason other than that he wanted to. “WOW, YOU’RE REALLY OUT OF TOUCH WITH YOURSELF!”
“I am?” His hand paused over a piece. “I don’t know if that’s possible, considering I’ve lived alone for several years now.”
“I CAN SEE YOUR MEMORIES, STANFORD, AND LET ME TELL YOU, PEOPLE WHO ARE SATISFIED WITH THEIR LIVES DON’T DREAM THE WAY YOU DID LAST NIGHT!”
“I… don’t remember my dreams from last night.” Ford seemed to forget the game altogether, retreating to the jelly beans in solace.
The sweater was fitting better every second. The bottom hem was threatening to roll up, and the fabric around his chest was tight enough to show his round chest underneath. Did he really not notice?
“YOU’RE REALLY GOOD AT MAKING YOURSELF FORGET THINGS YOU DON’T LIKE! BUT HERE, I CAN SHOW YOU – IT WENT SOMETHING LIKE THIS!”
Bill reached across the table and ran a hand along the side of his face, a simple, soft caress of his cheek and jaw, and Ford stiffened like he’d been shot. “I…”
“SPEAKING OF THINGS YOU’VE REPRESSED, THERE’S SOMETHING YOU SHOULD KNOW!”
His pupils were hopelessly dilated and his voice was breathless when he spoke. “What is it?”
“THOSE AREN’T NORMAL JELLY BEANS! EVERY ONE YOU’VE EATEN HAS ADDED ONE POUND OF PURE FAT TO YOUR BODY!”
“What?” Ford finally looked down and noticed the way his clothes were straining against his added mass. He flushed a solid red color, stronger than Bill had thought any human could. “What have you done to me?”
“FORDSY – CAN I CALL YOU FORDSY? – THERE’S ONE THING THAT REALLY TICKS ME OFF MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE. WANNA GUESS WHAT IT IS?”
Ford couldn’t tear his eyes away from his own stomach. It was barely there, nothing to even speak of, really, but he put his hands to it in pure horror.
“I’LL GIVE YOU A HINT!” Bill pushed the entire table to the side, and it poofed out of existence. “IT INVOLVES WANTING SOMETHING AND NOT GETTING IT!”
Before Ford could react, say something, stand up to leave, anything like that, ropes emerged from the chair to bind his legs, and Bill was filling his entire vision, scrutinizing him with a giant eye.
“IT’S BAD ENOUGH WHEN IT’S SOMEONE ELSE IN THE WAY, BUT WHEN THE OBSTACLE IS YOU, THAT’S JUST PATHETIC! GEEZ, BUDDY, SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA LET YOURSELF GO A LITTLE!”
He put a finger to Ford’s temple and rooted around for what he was craving at the moment – chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven. With a snap, a full plate of cookies was right there in Bill’s hand, the irresistible scent wafting over both of them.
“HAVE A COOKIE! IT’S ON THE HOUSE!”
“Absolutely not-”
Bill shoved it in his mouth, and instead of spitting it back out, Ford found himself chewing it like he’d never eaten before in his life.
He swallowed. “What are you doing to me? Why can’t I stop?”
“YOU COULD IF YOU WANTED TO!” Bill waved another cookie at him. “BUT I PUT YOU A LITTLE MORE IN TOUCH WITH THOSE SUBCONSCIOUS THOUGHTS YOU’RE SO ASHAMED OF! HAVE FUN TRYING TO FIGHT THOSE URGES NOW, SIXER!”
Bill could see his eyes tracking the cookie in front of him, taking in the soft brown texture and the warm, partially-melted chocolate chips. His mouth opened obediently, and Bill gave him what he wanted.
Naturally, the cookies were enchanted, too, much more so than the jelly beans. There was no way Ford could ignore the effects now, not when he was visibly expanding with every bite; his tight clothes would have been much more painful if this were real, but as it was, being squeezed by the fabric and now the arms of the chair caused more mental than physical anguish.
“I don’t want this.” Ford stared at his shirt and sweater that were quickly beginning to function more like a crop top. “This is wrong.”
“OKAY!” Bill feigned a shrug. “SURE, WE CAN STOP-”
As soon as he pulled the cookie away, Ford reflexively reached out and took it, stuffing the entire thing into his mouth. Bill cackled and flicked his stomach, watching it jiggle through the fabric.
“YOU DON’T WANT THIS, HUH? IT SEEMS LIKE YOU DO!”
“I…” Ford looked utterly perplexed. “I don’t understand.”
“WHAT’S NOT TO GET?” Bill held up another cookie. “IT’S A TWO-STEP PROCESS: YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND YOU EAT!”
“Please let this be a dream,” Ford sighed, but accepted the cookie anyway.
“OH, IT’S DEFINITELY A DREAM! BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN IT’S NOT REAL!”
“What makes you think I want this?” He gestured to the inch of stomach that was peeking out between his waistband and his shirt. “What on earth gave you the impression that this is desirable to me?”
“YOU REALLY ARE STUBBORN, YOU KNOW THAT? BUDDY, I COULD HEAR YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS SCREAMING FROM A MILE AWAY!”
“I refuse to believe that. This isn’t who I am.”
Bill laughed at him, right in his face. “SURE, FINE! WHO ARE YOU, THEN?”
“I’m a scientist, someone who prioritizes logic over emotion.”
“YEAH, AND LOOK WHERE THAT GOT YOU!”
“I secured a very competitive grant and am studying in the field of my dreams. I’m discovering things never before seen by humans. When my thesis is published, I’ll be a hero, beloved by all-”
“’NEVER BEFORE SEEN BY HUMANS?’ FORDSY, WHO DO YOU THINK WROTE THAT INSTRUCTION MANUAL ON HOW TO SUMMON ME? YOU WERE BEATEN TO THE PUNCH THOUSANDS OF YEARS BEFORE YOU WERE BORN!”
Ford averted his eyes and chose to accept another cookie rather than reply, glaring at nothing in particular.
“BUT HEY, IT’S ALL IN THE PAST! NOW YOU CAN CHOOSE NOT TO BE ALONE ANY TIME YOU WANT!”
“Hmph. I suppose I can admit there are some things that could be improved, but I doubt that even you could fix them.”
“CAN’T I?” Bill withheld the next cookie, and smirked as Ford managed to control himself enough to not reach for it. “WATCH THIS!”
Bill leaned over and kissed him. This honestly hadn’t been part of the plan; he didn’t even technically have a mouth, but the cues from Sixer’s sociocultural instincts were overwhelming. It looked fun, so why not try it?
Sixer didn’t seem to feel the same way. He returned the kiss hungrily, but awkwardly, shaking and tense, like a dog being pet for the first time after a life of only ever being hit.
When Bill pulled away, Ford actually whined in protest; for a moment, Bill felt a flutter of pain, but it vanished as soon as it appeared.
Hmm.
“SO WHAT’D YOU THINK? DO YOU BELIEVE ME YET?”
Ford clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”
“CHINS UP, FORDSY! IT ONLY GETS EASIER FROM HERE!” Bill brought out another cookie and tapped it against his double chin. “WANT A COOKIE?”
How satisfying it was to watch Sixer give in without complaint, looking up at him with a mixture of fear and longing.
After what felt like hours, it was done. He couldn’t take anymore.
Ford looked himself over – his fat body was bursting out of his clothes, which had grown with him, but at a slower pace. The arms of the chair and the ropes binding his legs had disappeared at some point, and if the laws of physics hadn’t been modified, he wasn’t sure if his giant mass could even remain balanced on the seat, given he was now more than three times its width.
Bill was watching him, arms behind his… head? (Was the top of the triangle analogous to a head?) Either way, Bill was watching him, his lack of facial features unreadable but, judging by his posture and other body language, clearly amused.
He exhaled a shaky breath. “Who are you?”
“I’M BILL CIPHER! I’VE BEEN AROUND THE MULTIVERSE MORE TIMES THAN I CAN COUNT, BUT LATELY I’VE TAKEN A SHINE TO THIS PLACE! EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE, I PROVIDE A LITTLE HELP TO WHOEVER’S THE SMARTEST PERSON ON EARTH AT THE MOMENT, AND THIS TIME IT’S YOU, KID!” Bill gave him a mock salute with two fingers.
“’Help?’ Is this what you call ‘help?’” He laid a hand on his absurdly large stomach with morbid curiosity; he didn’t hate it, which is what frightened him the most.
“YEAH, THIS WENT OFF THE RAILS A LITTLE! MY APOLOGIES!” Bill adjusted his top hat. “BUT I CAN TELL YOU THAT I KNOW THE SECRET TO WHY THIS TOWN IS SO WEIRD, AND I CAN HELP YOU FIND OUT TOO!”
“How do you know? Why should I trust you?”
“OH, I KNOW LOTS OF THINGS!”
Bill’s form flickered to display images of wild, otherworldly dimensions. “I’VE BEEN PLACES YOU CAN’T EVEN DREAM OF!”
The picture changed to Bill interacting with Nikola Tesla, Albert Einstein, Pythagoras, and more. “I’VE SEEN ALL OF HUMAN HISTORY!”
Visions of things that were strange but familiar – a plane crashing into a skyscraper, a person holding a smooth rectangular object to their ear, a gray brick wall being destroyed. “AND I CAN SEE THE FUTURE TOO!”
Bill raised his hands, and the scenery changed around them, turning the starry void from blue to purple and red and then morphing into a view from a remote mountaintop in a country he couldn’t identify. “I’M THE MASTER OF THE MINDSCAPE!”
Another image briefly flickered across his form – it was Ford, but with glowing yellow eyes. “AND SOME OTHER FUN STUFF, BUT THAT CAN COME LATER!”
Bill stuck out a hand, which alighted with a bright blue flame. “ALL OF THIS CAN ONLY HAPPEN IF WE CAN MAKE A DEAL. YOU SWEAR TO BE MY… DISCIPLE, WE’LL SAY, AND YOU CAN HAVE ACCESS TO ALL OF THIS AND MORE!”
There was no other word for it. Ford was dazzled. There was probably some reason he should say “no,” but he couldn’t think of what it was, and he couldn’t be bothered to put in the effort to remember. He saw his pudgy hand reach forward, and stopped it for a moment, then let it continue. The fire around Bill’s hand wasn’t warm, but searing cold.
“Alright. I swear.”
Ford awoke in his own body with a start, still sat upright against the tree, bag and papers scattered around him where they’d fallen as he slept. He stumbled upright, readjusting to this form that all of a sudden felt smaller than it should be, and rushed to put everything back in his bag and get home.
There was much to be done. And he was starving.
Notes:
i wanted to do more prequel chapters but if i'm being honest i hate writing (more) toxic bill and thin ford < / 3
am i procrastinating on getting to the central climax and ending of this story?
definitely not. absolutely not. that would totally not be the case. why would you say that?