Work Text:
“We can use my blood.”
The suggestion slips from Soleum before he notices.
— Mr. Roe Deer?
Soleum tips his head up. He mulls over his rather spontaneous offer once, twice, looks at the bright lighting warming his room, the bigger shadows it casts, then at the small keychain plush sitting innocently on his bedside table. Putting Braun there is the first thing he does whenever he gets back from work, like placing keys on their respective hook back when he had a tiny apartment to call home.
Soleum deliberately exhales. “I think it'd be faster than looking for something else, that's all,” he reasons.
It's true that he set up the last bath precisely because he didn't want to use his blood again. Soleum doesn't think he can get around it this time, not with all the mishaps stacking up like bad, little omens. Braun has always been lenient with him, whenever Soleum used his abilities or asked one question too many, but he also fears that an entire night of being squished under a pillow might have strained Braun's patience a bit too much. He's still a sentient ghost story resident, after all, one with prestige and a corresponding amount of pride to match. Soleum needs to take the initiative. Preventing anything from happening in the first place is usually the safest way to handle a ghost story.
— Are you certain? Though I had a most wonderful bath using your blood, it did prove to be quite the strain on your body. A good friend shouldn’t be a source of discomfort to you!
“It should be fine. I just won't be able to give as much as last time, I think.”
That had Soleum entirely too weak in his knees. Braun seems to think it over, the silence stretching. Then, a flicker of a large shadow across the wall.
— Very well, if you insist. Do let me know if you change your mind though, friend! We can always look for other bath additives alternatives.
Soleum smiles weakly. “Thank you, Braun.”
— !!!
— This Braun should be the grateful one, Mr. Roe Deer!
The excitement is contagious, so Soleum gets to work.
He pulls the checkered bathtub from his tattoo to place in the middle of his room and procures a small knife along with it. The cut to his arm stings less than the first time he did this—Soleum watches quietly as he allows his blood to slowly fill the bathtub. Red against white against black. He stops at what he estimates to be around 300ml, only feeling a little dizzy when he retracts. Even if it's his own blood, watching it so eagerly fill a bathtub and change to a seemingly harmless bath solution right before his eyes is still unnerving. Soleum turns around and settles back onto his bed. Pulling a first aid kit from his wrist, he begins addressing the wound.
Thuck, thuck.
The sound of heavy steps; soles clicking along the floor, followed by a splash of fragrant water soaked in blood and a content sigh.
Soleum finishes cleaning the wound and wraps a thin bandage around it, unsurprised at the way the white material darkens almost immediately. He wonders if there are any side-effects to using his blood as the additive twice in a row—it wouldn't surprise him if the efficiency of the bath were to decrease if no new ingredients were used, but it also wasn't stated anywhere that it would.
It’s still blood, after all. The most precious source of life, proof of one’s humanity, or so they say. Soleum sees it dripping from walls and spilling into rooms way too many times for that statement to carry any weight, but it’s true that ghosts don’t bleed. They only pretend to.
Sensing his curiosity, Braun speaks.
— It’s quite similar to the last bath, Mr. Roe Deer. Dare I say, perhaps even a little better—what a lovely blend! I can sense undertones of something fruity to go along with it, just like the fine, aged wine I sometimes crave after a particularly long show. I've accumulated quite the collection over the years, you see! Most of it are gifts, but some I did purchase on my own. If the opportunity arises, we should definitely have a toast to our wonderful friendship!
— Hmm, it's really soaking into the cotton of this body, now. How fascinating and positively rejuvenating!
Relief eases some of the tension in Soleum's chest, making it easier to breathe. Braun seems to be enjoying the bath, so that definitely counts as a success. Crisis averted. Soleum crawls to the edge of the bed to throw the used parts of the first aid kit away and winces at the strain of tired, used muscles shifting so abruptly. He settles back in his earlier position, cross-legged and facing the wall, the bathtub on the ground behind him. Soleum pulls out his phone. One hand scrolls through the older wiki entries he's not as familiar with, the other idly massages the inside of his thigh, relieving some of the leftover pain there.
— Mr. Roe Deer?
“Yes?”
— If I may be so direct, there’s something that has been weighing on my mind. I've noticed that in both your memories of that high school and the lovely art exhibition, you appeared to have difficulties running for prolonged periods of time. Are you not well accustomed to physical exertion?
Soleum rubs his neck sheepishly. “Only as much as I have to be.”
He’s worked an office job before with not much time around it, and even in high school, P.E. has never been his forte. It's not something he sucked at, but it's not something he excelled at, either. He's as average as the average Korean male in his late 20s can get—naturally, that also meant a stamina depleted after running to catch an early train to work; sometimes he could also squeeze in a couple of stairs to his office floor when the elevator was broken or swarmed with supervisors and board directors alike.
Not entirely ideal for horror scenarios where you spend a lot of time running away from threats, Soleum has to admit.
“I should really work on it, shouldn't I?” Soleum tips his head back with a sigh. “I suppose there's no way around it.”
— Mastery is not strictly necessary, but it's important for hosts to be well-versed in just about any topic! Gaining more stamina would not just suit your exploration of all those dreadfully grimy places, but also be useful for when you need to entertain an audience for longer than anticipated! An ad break can only buy so much time, after all.
Soleum nods. He had a similar conversation with Squad Leader Lee about this, and it’s precisely why he‘s been excited to borrow his strength equipment.
Does Dreamday Inc. have a gym? They do, Soleum recalls after raking through a backlog of entries in his mind. It’s important to not stay past odd hours and to always bring and leave with a full bottle of water; that’s about it.
“Do I have to pay fees?” Soleum muses. Perhaps being promoted to supervisor granted him some more additional benefits he'd only discover if he really searched for them. Free access to the gym would certainly be a convenience.
But working out in front of everyone? Might as well expose how ill-prepared he is, going into all the darknesses. Would put his new position as a supervisor under even more scrutiny than it already was alongside his suspiciously good track record. Working out in a public space is definitely not Soleum’s preferred choice, but if there's no going around it, he'll have to suck it up. The early morning hours could be an option for guaranteed minimum social contact, he’d just have to adjust his already irregular sleep schedule by a small margin.
— If you require being a little more under the radar, friend, I'm most delighted to be of assistance!
There's the sloshing of bathwater spilling over, something entirely too big crammed into something too small. Eagerly, Braun continues.
—I’ve had all kinds of guests take part in my shows, even fitness trainers. They’re not usually the most exciting types—very straightforward, no mystery surrounding them at all—but I’ll give them this: they certainly understand the human body!
— Just say the word, Mr. Roe Deer! This Braun would be eager to help you.
The thought of personal gym trainer Braun has Soleum cracking a thin smile. He tries recalling the first time he laid his eyes upon the legendary TV host, thinking past severed, harmonising heads and the lingering bite of ashes. Braun did look quite fit, even if Soleum doesn't know if there's actual substance beneath his suit.
— I sense amusement coming from you, friend.
Tempering his smile down, Soleum is quick to reassure Braun. “I'm not laughing at you,” he promises. “You always surprise me with the range of your skills. Ah, not that I didn't expect any less.”
Which isn't exactly wrong. Soleum idly wonders what more abilities Braun could regain access to once this bath's over. The shadow of the plush along the wall grows; the swelling of a proud bird’s chest.
— Naturally! A host has to know a bit of everything; otherwise the conversations fall flat. If you want to, we can start right away!
“Right now?”
— The bath is almost over. It has been wonderful and I feel closer to my prime than ever, so of course I would like to repay you!
“You really don't need to. It's the least I can after putting you in a situation like this.”
Soleum winces for the added effect. Braun merely chuckles; a deep rumble that rattles Soleum’s bones.
— Nonsense, friend! I knew what happened wasn't your fault, yet you graciously lent your blood to me once more. It's only fair I return the favour! Not to imply you did it to get something out of me, of course. Our friendship has certainly grown more valuable than that, wouldn’t you agree?
Soleum blinks and nods reluctantly. If Braun's as insistent as he is, it’s better to accept his offer and not wake sleeping dogs.
“Alright.”
There’s nothing on his agenda, anyway. If Soleum was going to spend the rest of his evening watching shows and cartoons with Braun together until he felt a mere crumb of sleepiness tugging at him, they might as well be a little productive.
Soleum prepares to push off the bed and retrieve Braun from his personal bathtub, but the lights in his room flicker. He just barely resists the instinct to turn around.
“Braun?”
— It's quite alright, Mr. Roe Deer! I need no further assistance from this point on. All I ask you is that you keep your eyes ahead for now.
The good child tattoo on Soleum’s wrist throbs. Eyebrows furrowing, he absentmindedly traces the shape of it. “How am I gonna exercise if I can't see you?”
— There's no need to fret! It's merely been a while since I've done this, so I may need a bit of time to adjust. This Braun will do all the work eventually, you need only follow my instructions.
— Do you trust me, friend?
Soleum blinks. He mulls over the question for a good while, the individual members of Squad D coming to his mind. Even Lee Saheon’s flustered, perpetually disgruntled face pops up among them—those are all the characters he spent the most time with ever since he dropped into this universe. Strictly speaking, now that Haje has retired and Minseong is stuck somewhere in rehabilitation, Braun has been by his side the longest. Although particular and weirdly insistent at times, Braun mostly went along with whatever Soleum said.
Whimsical humming fills the room. Soleum recognises the tune from the internet-provider commercial they’d seen a week ago. If Braun takes offense at his delayed reply, he shows no sign of it.
And if Braun really wanted to, he could have already harmed Soleum or his friends, couldn’t he? Soleum trusts him to that extent and a little beyond. He trusts that Braun’s a ghost story resident contained within an item meant to make Braun more amicable towards him, but more importantly, Soleum trusts his own ability to handle Braun if things do go awry.
“I do,” Soleum earnestly says, the line of his spine relaxing into something more natural.
The humming drifts off into gossamer silence. Steps, leaden. Despite the water Braun just emerged from, the massive hand clasping Soleum’s shoulder is dry. Warm. Braun’s reply is a rumble of his chest, deep and pleased and curling around his neck like something physical.
[Very well.]
“B-braun,” Soleum sobs. “Slow down—!”
Mercifully, the finger inside of him stops. It’s big enough to be a slim cock in itself, and Soleum squirms, fights for the few wisps of clarity hovering narrowly outside his reach with the brief respite he’s being given. It’s almost worse like this, no motion at all to keep him strung on the high, instead directing his attention to the position he’s in, to the boiling heat inside his veins, threatening to consume him from the inside out. Sweat rolls Soleum’s shoulder blades, disappears somewhere in the fabric of Braun’s vest behind him. He sobs again when Braun adjusts his hand. A pleased hum, followed by a loud squelch and more wetness trickling down his ass.
“Can’t—”
Braun keeps the finger inside of Soleum’s cunt still, but his thumb moves independently, covers Soleum’s little clit with ease. It starts a familiar, punishing grind against the exposed nub and Soleum shudders bodily, cunt squeezing around his finger. It's embarrassing how quickly he comes, legs kicking and spasming in Braun's hold. Soleum’s still grappling with the high of another orgasm when the finger inside him curls and digs further into soft, delicate flesh; rubbing up and down like he's petting the most intimate parts of Soleum. It echoes the same, sickening pleasure that took root in him at the first press of Braun's palm against his cunt, and even though Soleum already came, the stimulation is different enough to keep him going, to take the simmering flames within his belly and coil them into something even tighter, on the verge of spilling over.
Soleum garbles an aberration of Braun’s name. Braun heeds his call, lowers his head enough for Soleum to feel cold plastic nudging along the top of his head, a low, cordial voice purring directly into his ear.
[Another one, dear,] Braun coos. [You can do it for me, can’t you?]
Soleum doesn’t think he can give Braun another one, but Braun forces it out of him anyway; a push of his fingers so deep into Soleum his vision briefly flickers with dark and bright colours alike. Soleum’s cunt clenches around Braun’s finger like his sole purpose is to milk them. He squirts all over them both, coming for the second time not even a minute after his last orgasm. Soleum trembles weakly—a small leaf in the eye of a storm.
The sheets below them are wet, drenched in his fluids, but Braun’s pants are worse, the expensive fabric having turned into a dark brown the colour of wood. Soleum whines in distraught. He thinks he’s apologising once more, thighs quivering from where they can’t properly close around the hand between them, and Braun hushes him like he did all those previous times, merely spreading his legs wider, sinking Soleum a little deeper into his lap so he has no other choice but to continue holding onto him.
[Good boy.]
Somewhere, at the very far back of Soleum’s addled mind, he knows this isn’t what friends do. Friends don’t have you sit on their lap naked under the guise of helping you out, friends don’t hook one arm underneath both your knees, exposing you and crushing you to their chest in the same breath. Friends don’t reach down to rub your wet pussy for hours, making you come over and over again until there’s nothing left and then some.
Soleum told Braun as much, when the darkness’s intention first dawned on him. The flickers of fear and hunger had been manageable, back then, and he reasoned that if he let Braun do as pleased, it’d satisfy the host enough to sate his curiosity. A little treat to smoothen things over, so to say. Give an inch and take a mile; Soleum’s become rather good at it after spending months fighting for his survival by the skin of his teeth.
He’s gone through worse. Already had his body almost replaced and most of his limbs cut off, even though he’d been under the effect of the happy pills at that time. The pain came afterwards, phantom pain in his limbs whenever he moved a certain way. When no one was looking. Offering his body like this would simply be another bullet point on the list, Soleum reasoned.
[You’re quite correct,] Braun cheerfully responded. [Full points to Mr. Roe Deer! Only good friends offer this kind of extensive help, and what am I but an excellent host and, more importantly, your very good friend?]
Braun was quick to fuck those naïve, foolish thoughts out of him.
Reality is Soleum being a trembling mess in Braun’s enormous lap, grasping for strands of his own sanity slipping further and further away with each passing minute. Anything that isn’t the low drawl of a rich voice or fingers fucking in and out of him. Sometimes one, sometimes up to three. Not always thrusting; sometimes just curling and rubbing; small, insistent motions deep inside that have Soleum grappling for some rationality to defend himself against such excessive, overwhelming pleasure swallowing him whole.
The arm that isn’t playing with his pussy is hooked underneath both his legs. Large and thick like the rest of Braun's body, it effortlessly pins Soleum’s legs to his chest—he could crush Soleum with but a slight twist of his elbow. His hand covers more than half of Soleum’s lower thigh, scorching even through the layer of his glove, and Soleum was already hit with lightheaded dizziness the first time Braun folded him in half like this.
The difference in strength is as appalling as it is gut-wrenching.
Bursts of heat pulsate through him and Soleum whimpers raggedly. Braun’s pushing another finger into his pussy—two of Braun's fingers are bigger than any toy Soleum awkwardly considered buying in his entire lifetime—and Soleum can’t possibly come anymore. His sight is blurry, but his room is still bright and offers a perverse sense of comfort with its warm colours. Soleum finds the alarm clock after a few seconds of struggling, squinting at the numbers through the wet clumps of his lashes.
[03:31]
They’ve been at this for four hours, Soleum having come on Braun’s fingers more times than he could possibly count. He’s spent beyond exhaustion, a mere ragdoll for Braun to play with, and that’s precisely the thing, isn’t it? His body isn’t his own anymore; it’s something Braun’s gradually claimed for himself with each languid thrust of his fingers, each orgasm he personally wrung from Soleum by hand, until the concept of can’t and no more ceased to exist. Lines and rules blurred from a pleasure so intense Soleum felt like the easiest solution to escape it all was to give himself over—if it weren’t for that shred of coherence at the very back of his mind whispering there’d be no coming back if he threw the last, tiny morsel of dignity he still possessed into Braun’s hands.
[Friend.]
Braun’s voice snaps him back to the present. His fingers brush against Soleum’s folds, and when they push inside of him again, they curl against his g-spot with pinpoint accuracy, causing another wave of slick to drench his glove even further. Soleum’s clit has recovered from the earlier onslaught enough to twitch with the stimulation, and Braun uses it to push Soleum into yet another orgasm, torn from him like a page from a book.
“B-braun,” Soleum tries once more, voice breaking multiple times throughout it. “S-sir, I—please. Are we done? That's enough, isn't it? I’m, haaah, tired. Full… So tired…”
[I thought we dropped the formalities, friend?] Braun muses. [If the title is a source of comfort to you, however, I shall allow the continued use of it. I wouldn't want to deprive my star of anything now, would I? Not when he’s doing so well.]
Soleum whimpers weakly. Braun laughs, faint sparks of electricity crackling along Soleum’s heated skin. It’s a nice sound.
[Fret not, my dear. You’ve put on an excellent show for me tonight, and I promise to reward you for your efforts. The curtain call will arrive within due time. Just a little more.]
Just a little more is a hope Soleum has been clinging to for the last hours. Still, he wants to believe Braun—he’s always done as he asked, and gave sound reasoning when he didn’t—so Soleum lets his head roll into the crook of Braun’s elbow, tries to ignore how much he’s twitching and dripping around Braun’s gloves, silently begging for more despite every bit of his body screaming for rest.
He simply needs to endure.
Muscles tired from being crammed into the same position for hours groan in protest when Braun adjusts his hold on Soleum. Braun pulls his fingers out—Soleum gasps, doesn’t want to think about how empty he suddenly is, cunt fluttering around nothing and therefore not fulfilling its purpose; but he does, wants to cry at being deprived of something so basic—and wraps both hands around the back of Soleum’s thighs. Like earlier, his fingers meet in the middle, and Soleum blinks as another surge of heat punches him square in the gut. It spreads rapidly, has him shaking worse than before.
[Are you ready, my friend?]
He’s lifted higher on Braun’s lap, legs spread open in a wide, unfamiliar position. A hot, heavy mass nudges against both his ass and pussy, and Soleum stops breathing for a few seconds. He knows the shape, even if it’s dark and somewhat see-through and nothing quite physical at all. Nothing could take away from the sheer size of that thing. He hadn’t assumed—he didn’t know—
Soleum swallows rising tides of panic. He blearily looks up at Braun, reaches for the solid chest behind him and fists the material of his vest in between his fingers like it could save him from the monstrosity gliding along his cunt, pushing apart swollen, red folds with ease. The tip of Braun’s cock effortlessly reaches past his belly button, right into the hollow of his ribcage.
For a feverish second, Soleum pictures that thing inside of him. His heart skips one, two beats. When it returns, it does so in a sudden, rapid stutter, hammering against his ribs with renewed alarm.
“Sir,” he starts pleading, pure survival instinct grabbing him by the neck. “There’s no need to—I can’t take this, I won’t b-be able to take this.”
Soleum knows with a certainty that he’ll break in the most literal sense. Indefinitely, this time, with nothing to put him back together. It’s not humanly possible. Braun’s cock is as big as his thigh—it nudges against Soleum as though that fact were insubstantial, like it’s about to bypass any sort of resistance with its sheer size alone. There’s nothing gentle or reassuring about the shape of if, despite Braun’s generally comforting disposition. No, Soleum will die. His body is not made to take something this big, not even with all the hours of preparations Braun spent on him.
Braun's fingers rhythmically tap against his wet thigh. He slowly tilts his head down far enough for Soleum to see his own reflection in the tinted glass of his head—he’s naked, disappearing into the sheer mass of Braun’s body, wet and flushed and bruises the shape of hands littering his skin. Soleum is a small, tiny thing in Braun’s grasp, prey that failed to escape. All he does now is wait for his turn to be gutted and split open. His gaze is unfocused, hair untamed and wild and clinging to his damp forehead, but the fear is clearly visible in the thin, red specs of his eyes.
[Seems like my friend is suffering from a little bit of stage fright after having come this far. Not to worry! It happens to the best of us, even to me.]
His reflection comes closer.
[Should this Braun help you, friend? You need only say the word. You know I'm always happy to help you whenever you need.]
Soleum nods, little more than a frantic jerk of his head. He clings to Braun, tries to scoot higher and impossibly closer. Braun always helps. Braun is a good friend, and Soleum is his.
“P-please.”
Crackles of static give way to darkness. Soleum’s whole being is sucked into another dimension made of flashing lights and starving shadows—pleasure descends on him with physical force, pushing into his body, separating flesh from bone. Soleum can’t scream, can’t move as he’s rearranged, raw pleasure slipping into every crack inside of him that opens up. He's being burned alive, and yet it feels so right, every limb and bone clicking back into place even better than before, like he’s finally whole.
Soleum breaks through the murky, dark surface and gasps.
He blinks back into reality. Prisoner in his own room, the monstrous cock between his legs still pressing up against his cunt with frightening, unmistakable intent. Soleum wants to pull Braun back into him, press his face against the screen of his TV once more until the surface gives in and Braun lets him in a second time.
[So receptive,] Braun murmurs. He presses his cock closer against Soleum, forcing him to the edge of another orgasm when he crushes Soleum’s clit underneath the intimidating weight of it. [Beautiful. You’re the brightest thing I’ve laid my eyes upon, friend, and I’ve seen many, many stars in an industry as busy as mine.]
A flick of his wrist, a shifting of position—Soleum’s higher up than before. From below him, the fat head of Braun's cock nudges against Soleum’s entirely too small opening, lewd kisses that have Soleum blushing down to his chest despite the depravity of the entire situation.
It really is too big, Soleum deliriously thinks as the hands on his thighs tighten, and it’s the only warning he gets before he is pulled down. Soleum lets out a wailing shriek that cuts off into a gurgle as he’s brutally speared open. It’s less pushing, and more Braun’s cock bruteforcing his way through Soleum, relentless in its task until Soleum’s body has no other choice but to give him that space. It should hurt. Soleum feels the way his body physically surrenders, making place for Braun and only Braun, and yet all Soleum can do is shake with ecstasy, toes curling as another orgasm is forcefully ripping through him, filling his brain with liquid static that spreads through the rest of his body lightning quick.
Braun chuckles. [Such a sweet thing you are. With my friend welcoming me this warmly, I ought to show my best manners in return.]
Soleum no longer has the strength to keep his head upright, chin lolling onto his chest. Even though his vision is blurry with tears, the bulge in his stomach is so big it’s impossible to overlook amidst the hazy fog.
It’s obscene—the girth of Braun stretches Soleum inhumanly wide, petals of his pussy stretched paper-thin, and the bulge protruding from his stomach makes him look months pregnant. With a trembling hand, he reaches out to touch the shape of it—it’s real, the heat of Braun's cock through his skin as sweltering and hot as the rest of him. It’s utterly revolting, but Soleum moans, inching closer to another orgasm because what little is left of him is all slick, pliant heat, happy to be bred and used.
The world spins behind Soleum’s eyes. It’s just him and pleasure in its rawest form pressing into every nook and cranny of Soleum's body Braun didn’t already occupy. His walls desperately squeezing around Braun hardly make a difference from how much he’s been forced open, and all it does is entice Braun to start rocking him up and down, every bit of tiny movement enough to punch the air from Soleum’s lungs and his next breath, too. Soleum's hands find little purchase at the sleeve of Braun's arms but he tries anyway, anything to ground him from this onslaught of mad pleasure.
“I’m—hahh… Braun, sir, I’m—I’m so full. Don’t think I can… Please…”
[You can,] Braun encourages gently. [Your body is capable of many more things you have yet to be aware of. If you won't give yourself some credit, dear, I most certainly will.]
The pressure on his thighs increases, and Soleum almost passes out from how deep Braun sheathes himself into his pussy with his next thrust. He's not even fully in yet, Soleum realises, sees that half of Braun is still outside of his cunt, drenched in a mixture of their rutting exercise.
But he can’t. Braun’s cock is pressing up against that tiny gate at the end of his pussy with every shallow thrust of his hips and pull of his arms, but even he can’t go there, already having broken Soleum open just to simply fit himself inside. Going beyond it was an impossible scenario that didn’t dare cross Soleum’s rapidly spiralling mind even once.
Braun’s voice is a steady, distant thing, rumbling throughout the room and the edge of his mind.
[I'm beginning to understand why humans chase so mindlessly after the pleasure of flesh. You feel exquisite.]
Soleum opens his mouth, uselessly trying to form words. It takes him several attempts to speak and even then it's words barely strung together. “Feels… good?” He asks with barely any voice to give.
The edge of a screen nuzzles him again. It's warm now, overheated like the rest of Braun’s body, and sparks dance along Soleum's skin, down his face and throat in the mockery of a soft caress. He’s so hot Braun must have lit a fire in the centre of his core.
[Very much so, friend.]
Soleum feels it first before he realises it—the way his cervix starts giving under all the relentless pressure, shy flower petals on the verge of blooming. Soleum struggles to breathe, to form words and give shape to the sudden panic settling inside the lazy, warm swirl in his mind after learning Braun enjoys it, too.
“W-wait,” Soleum calls out, trying to lift himself from Braun's cock—just a little, just to make him less stuffed full, a tiny chance to regain fragmented coherency —but he ran out of stamina a long, long time ago. He slips, and subsequently rams Braun's cock so deep inside of him it crushes against the opening to his cervix in a single swoop.
Soleum’s lips fall open in a soundless scream. Another orgasm rolls over him, mixes with the loud, white noise ringing in the space between his ears and his brain. He’s so fucking full it’s hard to tell where any of his limbs are, what he’s doing aside from squeezing around an oversized cock.
Braun isn’t—Braun isn’t in his womb quite yet, but it’s so very clear that he wants to be; patient, small thrusts against the opening of his cervix like he wants more than to break him open completely. Like he wants to carve a space there for himself and crawl inside, closer to Soleum than when he was sitting in the front pocket of his suit.
[You’re taking it well, my dear. A truly stellar performance for your first time.]
Braun slows down, enough for Soleum to become hyperaware of the way his cock drags against his oversensitive walls. Soleum isn’t—Soleum isn’t even doing anything and Braun’s barely thrusting, either, but he doesn’t need to, not when he can manhandle Soleum like a toy to fuck into.
[Perhaps we should consider putting this on air. With enough promotion, I believe it could effortlessly break the viewership record I established across all my previous shows.]
The thought of anyone else seeing him like this has Soleum biting back a whine and his shoulders draw inwards. Braun pauses momentarily. His hands move, carefully setting down Soleum's legs to wrap around the small of his waist instead. They’re huge, able to encompass most of it despite Soleum’s belly lewdly protruding with the evidence of an oversized cock. A collar for his waist instead of his neck.
Braun mumbles quietly, then with more enthusiasm, [You’re right. Of course you are, friend! Despite your raw talent, it wouldn’t be so bad to refine it before we plan anything more elaborate. How could I not think of that? Ah, I may have gotten too excited at the prospect of finally working together. This Braun humbly apologises.]
Just a little more, Soleum recalls faintly. How long ago was that?
“P-please, nghhh…”
[Your passion for your audience is admirable, truly and only matched by mine. Let’s consider this our private show for now, shall we?] With his newfound grip on Soleum, Braun gradually picks up speed again. There’s an unusual edge to his voice, sharp in the midst of its cheerful, blithe wrapping. [You’ve been nothing but patient, working hard for so long.]
“I wasn’t—” Soleum gets interrupted by a sob crawling up his sore throat. Braun moves him like he's weightless, like this is second nature. “I really wasn’t—aahh, Braun, sir! Am already f-full. Nghhh—Sir, sir please, have mercy, I’m… please—”
The prominent bump in Soleum’s stomach moves, nudges a little higher than before.
“No,” Soleum cries out. He tries and fails to pry Braun's fingers off him. “Not there—anything but there….!”
Fear climbs deep into his lungs, settles there alongside pleasure and stays present, all-consuming. Braun keeps fucking into Soleum with measured, deep thrusts, and all of Soleum’s efforts prove fruitless in the face of such overwhelming difference in physical prowess.
He’s never felt as helpless before as he does now, his body moving only when Braun is. There’s no strength left in him, but even if there was, Braun is big enough to render any type of movement from Soleum completely useless. A successful escape attempt amounts to very little if Braun could cross the whole room in a single step and drag him back to bed just as easily.
All it would do is wring more pleasure from Braun, really, and for a delirious second Soleum wonders if Braun feels good in a different, less physical kind of way. If he’s feeding from the fear rolling off Soleum in waves, eagerly consuming his reactions with the same hunger of a starving man desperately mouthing at the ungodly amount of slick leaking from his cunt.
Braun doesn't—he wouldn’t come, would he? There’s no space left inside Soleum—everything’s been taken and claimed. If Braun were to fill him up, there’d be nowhere for all the fluid to go. He’d burst, completely. But the alternative, the thought of a Braun who doesn't need to come but relishes being inside Soleum just as much and simply keeps going like he did with his fingers, pulling Soleum down on his cock over and over again until time becomes a far, distant concept, is much more frightening.
[Allow me, dear.]
Braun pries Soleum’s mouth open. One long, thick finger slips inside, almost immediately joined by another to explore the wet compliance of his mouth. Soleum’s lips are stretched thin and he tastes leather and himself, intangible hints of sweetness accompanying every small shift and press inside. He doesn't gag, not even when the pads of Braun's finger press down on his tongue. They feel along his molars, curious, then the roof of his mouth and into the beginning of his throat, gradually making their way inside.
Braun's tone is gravelly, shifting sands spoken directly into his mind. [There, there. Isn't that better? Your mind has that awful habit of becoming rather tangled, my dear, but it’s a good thing your good friend is here to take care of it.]
Soleum can neither shake nor nod his head. He's drooling around Braun’s fingers, making a mess out of his gloves, and it's when his teeth scrape along sturdy, hard knuckles that the last string of errand thoughts is cut from Soleum.
He's filled from both ends now—fat cock in and past his stomach; fingers deep down his throat.
[Perhaps this friendship is a reward,] Braun muses. His antennas sway alongside the undulation of his hips, working dutifully to keep Soleum stuffed full. [A reward for all those years of me serving guests, audiences, and the entertainment industry alike. Granted, you weren’t handed to me on a silver platter, but a shooting star is a shooting star, isn't it? Even if I have to pluck it from the sky myself.]
Braun leans down, folds Soleum tighter against himself. There’s a strain in his voice now, small but present, and it wedges into Soleum’s brain like the cock inside of him reaching into his lungs.
Braun’s grinding now more so than he is pushing; persistent, focused movements dedicated to further chip away at the weakening resistance of his cervix. Soleum can already feel it softening in real-time, opening a little more with each scrape of Braun’s tip. It’s the first sparks of actual pain Soleum feels in this entire evening, and it’s accompanied by bursts of pleasure so hot he’s searing from the inside out.
Right above his womb, a hand presses down.
[Is this your most precious place, dear?]
Flesh gives, organs shift, bones creak. Soleum can’t breathe, not with Braun's cock breaking him in and the fingers in his mouth digging even deeper, straining the angle of his jaw to the fullest. He can't he can't he can't—
[Is this as precious as this so-called home you desperately long for? You’ve been guarding it so fiercely.]
Braun deduces the answer from the countless tears streaming down Soleum's face, and he hums with a satisfaction so deep and profound all movement stills for a single, ominous second.
[Then, would you allow this good friend into this precious, second home of yours?]
Searing hot pleasure cracks down every vertebrae of Soleum’s spine as Braun finally bullies his cervix open on the next grind. He pushes into his womb with one hard shove, at last filling Soleum completely to the brim. Everything’s inside. Braun’s so deeply nestled within Soleum that he feels more sleeve than human being, and the sight of his body torn open by a cock of this size is so far removed from reality that Soleum's consciousness flickers, reduced to a pitiful candle in the rain.
[Good,] Braun crackles. The fingers in his mouth leave to mirror the one wrapped around his waist. They squeeze, providing a semblance of comfort. [So very good for me, my friend.]
Soleum tries speaking, but all that comes out are wheezing coughs and confused moans. His throat feels raw and violated, but it's nothing in comparison to the hot pulsations of his cunt. When Braun starts squeezing his own cock through the layer of his stomach alongside every thrust, effortlessly pinning Soleum in place while he fills him to the brim, Soleum has no other choice but to come.
Again and again and again. He was pushed past the brink of no return and is freefalling now, drowning in a pool of pleasure that he’s not allowed to surface from. Braun keeps him trapped in a cycle of viscous happiness and drags him past the concept of painful overstimulation onto something beyond and incomprehensible. He doesn’t know how there's anything left of him to give, Braun having worn him out over hours, but he keeps coming and squirting on the massive cock inside him, soaking already ruined bedsheets.
There’s no end in sight. All the sounds in the room are loud, insistent static noises accompanied by the occasional broken whimper, and the filthy sounds of a cock going in and outside his pussy. It’s one cramping, uncontrollable vice that keeps futilely squeezing around Braun, failing to keep him outside out as Braun owns him in every sense of the word.
[My friend, my dear.]
The rest of Soleum gives out. Like a doll, the strings to his consciousness get cut. Pleasure dissolves, seeps into what’s left of Soleum to turn him into a pliant mass of flesh. Soleum’s body still feels the pleasure, registers it as it overrides his entire system, but his mind is far, far gone, pushed into the role of a background actor, the curtain falling as Braun uses his body to his satisfaction. There are hands exploiting his body, adjusting him, pulling him deeper, good boy and doing so well, but Soleum is too far gone to put a name to anything. He’s slick body heat; a velvety vice made to be filled and bred by a cock, and any thought beyond that is a wasted expense of energy.
It’s one endless orgasm Soleum loops through—little shudders and wet squirts from his pussy wreck his otherwise limb body, a helpful reminder there’s still something left, still something to be taken from him.
And Braun happily obliges—accepts the invitation and doesn’t stop once, not until Soleum’s vision finally fades into complete darkness.
Pulled deep from his slumber, Soleum quietly awakens.
He blinks at the ceiling.
White; lines of soft orange and yellow from the sunlight crawling through the small gap in his curtains. There’s the distinctive lack of a TV playing, meaning he fell asleep without it for once. Rare. Soleum sluggishly turns his head. Braun sits next to his pillow on one of his own, almost equal with it in size. Seems like the last bath caused him to grow once more—Soleum won’t be able to fit Braun into the front of his pocket, that way. His eyebrows furrow almost immediately. That’s a problem Soleum needs to deal with rather quickly, and it presses to the forefront of sluggish thoughts with alarming priority.
It’s the moment Soleum sits upright and the sheets pool around his waist that memories slam into him like a truck.
Soleum gaps, claws at his chest as the reality of last night sinks into him. His eyes flicker down—he shouldn’t be breathing, let alone be alive. He should have died from internal bleeding and organ failure and blunt trauma and possibly even more, but even as he touches himself, feeling along skin soft and warm from dreamless slumber, he’s—he’s fine. Disturbingly, so. Aside from a dull ache, not a single inch of him hurts in the way that it should.
Soleum yanks the sheets away completely.
His cunt clenches around nothing, small and pink as ever. No physical sign of penetration, much less the monstrosity Soleum knew was inside of him for the majority of last night. But there are bruises, he realises with startling clarity. Dark and in the shape of inhumanly large hands, and they’re everywhere. On his arms, waist, hips, thighs; there’s even an angry ring wrapping completely around Soleum’s ankles.
Braun’s voice flickers in his mind.
— See? I told you, friend! You’re stronger than you think!
Soleum swallows dryly. Braun picks apart his silence and continues in the same, cheerful tone Soleum knows to associate with a very good mood.
— Our first session was quite productive, wouldn't you agree? You’ll make leaps and bounds in increasing your stamina at this rate, and we can always discuss the potential of this being a segment of a show. If you ever need assistance like that again, do let me know. I’ll be happy to help!
Ever so slowly, Soleum sinks back onto his pillow. He doesn’t bother pulling the sheets back up. He’s bruised everywhere, but the bandage around his arm is gone alongside the cut.
“Braun,” Soleum rasps in a shaky voice, and clears his throat before he continues. “I think we need to talk.”