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Corbeau would do anything for Harmony. He loved her more than he thought he was capable of loving a human being, and if the intensity of it wasn’t like a balm to his body he would probably have the good sense to be frightened by what he would find himself capable of if she simply gave the word. He would wield his power in any way possible to protect her, spend absurd sums of money to make her happy…
And stuff his face like a Snorlax to get her off.
Harmony had thrown herself into cooking just like she did battling, and after a few weeks of nearly inedible food (even Urbain’s croissant curry was better than Harmony’s tragic first attempt at baking cookies) she hit her stride and suddenly became a savant. Corbeau wondered if that was how she had been as a novice trainer: suddenly blossoming from a green youngster to an ace in mere days. She had a three-ring binder filled with printed-out recipes that had diagrams and scribbles in the margins, not unlike her battered battle strategy notebook.
It was mostly Unovan food, and Corbeau found himself increasingly impressed with the cuisine of a region notorious for restaurants serving deep-fried monstrosities. Sometimes there was Torchic pot pie and other times there were Bouffalant short ribs, but either way he would eat until he was barely able to get up and then still have enough left over to enjoy for lunch the next day.
At first, Harmony only cooked for him on date nights, but when she discovered the wonders of meal prepping there were ample portions of food for him all throughout the week tucked neatly into his freezer. Sometimes she would even turn up to the office uninvited just to demand he sample a dessert recipe she was trying out. She would always insist on giving each of the grunts on duty and Philippe a small portion, and then the lion’s share would be brought to Corbeau’s office and thoroughly enjoyed while she sucked him off under his desk.
She’d successfully conditioned Corbeau to get hard at the smell of barbeque sauce or fresh-baked cookies, and the resulting frenzy made her cum so hard he couldn’t even be mad that she’d turned him into one of Pavlov’s Yampers. But there was another interesting impact of all this eating, and Corbeau had only noticed it recently.
His clothes were getting too tight.
The change had been gradual. At first he thought it was residual bloating that accompanied three rich meals a day (plus dessert when he was spending the night with Harmony), but when his pants began leaving angry red marks on his lower stomach and his belt refused to tighten to its usual notch it was impossible to deny. His thighs were thickening and his stomach was softening, and he wasn’t entirely sure how that made him feel.
After calling his tailor and booking an appointment for later that week, he padded in only his socks and boxers to the en suite. He opened the cabinet beneath the sink to reveal some extra rolls of toilet paper, a box of Harmony’s preferred brand of pads, and a dust-covered scale Lysandre had bought him six years ago when a doctor declared Corbeau underweight. The scale was placed unceremoniously on the floor, and he braced himself before he stepped on it.
A big bright 66 blinked cheerfully up at him.
“Huh,” he said, then louder: “Harmony?”
She practically materialized in the bathroom doorway, wiping her hands on the apron Corbeau had bought for her two months ago when it became clear that she was just going to keep ruining clothes with cooking incidents until she got one. There was egg white on it, and he wondered not for the first time what the hell she was getting up to in his kitchen on this fine Sunday morning.
“What’s up?” she chirped. “Kalosian toast is almost ready.”
That was bait, Corbeau noted. She knew it was called pain perdu in Kalos, but probably wanted him to correct her so she could hear him speak Kalosian. He refused to take it, even though a very pedantic voice in his head insisted he do so. Instead, he soldiered on.
“I’ve gained seven kilos.”
A small crease formed between Harmony’s eyebrows. To anyone else, it didn’t mean much, but Corbeau recognized it as the first hint of her getting turned on.
He clarified: “That's about 15 pounds to you, Unovan.”
Her eyebrows shot up, then smoothed out, gaze never leaving his torso. He wondered how obvious the extra weight was.
“Do you want to feel?”
Corbeau watched with interest as her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides. “The toast is gonna burn.”
And that was how Corbeau wound up sitting on top of his own kitchen island while his lovely girlfriend alternated between tending to a hot stove and groping him covetously. She seemed especially preoccupied with a small roll of fat that appeared just above the elastic of his boxers.
It felt strange, is what Corbeau thought. Strange to have a roll on his stomach when he sat down, strange to have been eating so well, and strange to have someone be so incredibly obsessed with his body.
Harmony squeezed at his side, marveling at what she was able to pinch between her fingers. She was practically drooling, a flush high on her cheeks. Corbeau reached down and pulled up both her apron and the hem of her too-large t-shirt to reveal a wet spot at the front of her panties.
“Hey!” she yelped, smacking his hand and smoothing her clothes out. “You have to wait until after you eat.”
“After I eat? Is all this just for me?” Corbeau eyed the stack of pain perdu that was hot, plated, and ready to be served; then the one slice of bread that was yet to be dipped in egg and toasted. “And are you using that entire loaf of brioché that we just bought two days ago?”
“My plate’s over there.” Harmony flipped some toast, then gestured with her spatula at a plate on the far end of the island holding two slices of steaming bread. “I was going to have three, but I burnt the first one and gave it to Feraligatr.”
A fond smile spread softly across Corbeau’s face. “You give it too much human food.”
“Do you want the burnt one next time?”
“...Yes.”
Harmony laughed. “You’re such a glutton. No wonder you’re putting on weight.”
Something stirred in Corbeau’s gut. “But you like it?”
Harmony stood on her tiptoes and kissed him in a hungry flash of teeth that had his cock coming to life in his boxers. “I like it so fucking much.”
They stayed close like that, breathing each other’s air, until the faint smell of smoke wafted between them.
“Shit,” Harmony hissed, turning quickly toward the stove and removing a slightly singed piece of toast from the cast-iron skillet Corbeau had forgotten he owned. She picked up a shaker labelled in her messy handwriting NOT SALT!!!! CINNAMON SUGAR and sprinkled the toast with a generous amount, then placed it at the top of the ready-to-eat stack.
“I love you very much,” Corbeau said, “but I’m going to die if I eat all that.”
“I’m saving what you don’t eat so you can reheat it for breakfast tomorrow. I’m doing the Royale tonight, so I’ll probably still be asleep when you leave for work.”
“Aw, you don’t want to get up early and watch me eat half of this?”
“I’ll be too sore from my four orgasms today to want to get off again.” Harmony turned the stove dial to OFF, set down her spatula, and picked up the towering plate of pain perdu. She placed it on the island right next to her own, more reasonable portion.
“Four, huh?” Corbeau hopped off the counter and sat down on the barstool in front of the behemoth breakfast. “You think very highly of me.”
Harmony placed a small bowl of yogurt with Oran berries next to each of their plates, then passed Corbeau some butter and a bottle of syrup. “‘If a man can gain fifteen pounds in three months, he can surely make his girlfriend scream for him four times.’ That’s an ancient Sinnohan proverb, y’know.”
“That’s the fakest thing I’ve ever heard,” Corbeau snorted, cutting some butter away with his knife and spreading it liberally across the surface of the topmost pain perdu. Then he poured a large puddle of syrup on it, mouth watering as he watched it drip down the side of the stack.
Harmony’s hand found his stomach again, squishing into it ever so slightly as he began to cut up his breakfast. It grumbled against her touch, and she laughed.
“Hungry?” It was less of a question and more of a challenge.
Corbeau grinned at her, spearing a bit of toast with his fork and relishing in the shudder of arousal that worked down her spine. “Oh, I’m starving.”
He dug in like a man possessed, not stopping to use his napkin or even take a sip of coffee. Bite after bite disappeared into his mouth, most of them accompanied by groans of delight. Syrup smeared around his lips despite his best efforts to stay tidy, but he knew Harmony secretly loved that sort of thing.
After a few minutes, he glanced over at her again. She was flat-out staring, her own food going cold while she watched him plow through his meal. Her cheeks were scarlet, and she was gripping the edge of the countertop like she was going to fall through the floor if she didn’t.
As usual, the food was delicious. Even the slightly burnt parts went down easily. But his stomach was filling fast, and after only a quarter of the meal had disappeared into his gut he could feel that he was comfortably full.
Corbeau took a swig of coffee to cleanse his palate, then belched quietly. Harmony’s legs twitched in his peripheral vision, and he reached out with his free hand and palmed her thigh.
“You fuckin’ like that?” he asked, voice low. “You like it when I stuff my face for you?”
Harmony nodded furiously, spreading her legs for him. The wet patch on her panties had grown considerably, but she made no move to touch herself.
“Good girl,” he cooed, sliding his hand up and inward until he could feel the heat of her pussy through the cotton. “I’ll take care of you, make you feel good. But you have to do your part, okay?”
Corbeau passed her his fork, then slipped two fingers under the waistband of her panties.
“Feed me, princess.”
Harmony looked a bit like she was going to cum right then and there. Too turned on to even speak, she just stabbed at another portion of toast and brought it to Corbeau’s lips.
Her pussy was hot and soaking wet against Corbeau’s fingers. He rubbed against her clit lightly, and she moaned aloud. The noise had his half-hard cock quickly rising to full attention, and he adjusted himself in his boxers with his free hand.
“Mmh, need more, baby,” he said around the bit of toast in his mouth. “Tastes so good.”
Harmony fed him another piece with shaking hands, her breath coming in quick huffs as her hips twitched against Corbeau’s fingers. He chewed and swallowed quickly, opening his mouth again while he rubbed slow, tortuous circles into her clit. She whimpered as she gave him more.
Another quarter of the plate disappeared slowly but surely into Corbeau’s gut. It really did feel like a gut, now--distended and gurgling as it tried to process everything it was being fed. Corbeau rubbed at it gently with a free hand, pushing the waistband of his boxers lower on his hips to relieve some pressure. He slapped the side of his abdomen, then huffed out a low burp.
Harmony was moaning on every exhale now, eyes lidded heavily and fingers fumbling with the fork. “Corbeau,” she whined, “I’m so close.”
Corbeau licked syrup off his lips, dipping his fingers into her entrance to gather more lubricant and then speeding up his ministrations on her clit.
“You think that’s a reasonable trade, jolie fille? I g-uuurph, hah, get fat for you and you cum for me?”
Harmony moaned, high and breathy. They hadn’t used the f-word before, instead opting for useful euphemisms like “large” or “big,” but that’s what was happening, wasn’t it? Corbeau was getting fat. He played with the slight softness over his abs, precum wetting the front of his boxers as Harmony made a gorgeous sound.
“G-gonna…” she whimpered high in her throat.
“Cum for me, beautiful,” Corbeau’s fingers were lightning fast, and Harmony threw the fork down on his plate and grabbed roughly at his stomach as the first wave of her orgasm hit her full force.
Corbeau burped loudly at the sudden touch, groaning, and that only served to drive Harmony even crazier. She wailed as she came, hips stuttering into Corbeau’s touch as he worked her through it. Her eyes were screwed shut and her head was thrown back, and Corbeau wanted to do this to her every day forever.
His cock twitched in his boxers as she came down from her high, panting and whimpering. She grabbed Corbeau’s wrist when his touch became too much. Instantly, he slid his hand out from her panties and licked his fingers clean. Her taste, vaguely musky and acidic, was comfortingly familiar on his tongue.
Harmony was watching him dazedly when he removed his fingers from his mouth and wiped them on his boxers. “Bedroom?”
Corbeau shook his head. “Gotta finish my breakfast.”
“For real?”
Corbeau picked up the forgotten fork and stabbed through three bits of toast in one quick movement. He deposited them into his mouth with a little grunt.
“I’ll try m’best,” he said around the food, then swallowed. “You want me to get bigger, don’t you?”
Harmony’s thighs twitched. “Yeah.”
Corbeau grinned at her, then started shoveling more food into his mouth. He was going to gain more weight for Harmony, as much as she wanted. He was going to get bigger, thicker, fatter for her. Until she couldn’t keep her hands off of him. He had to finish his food. He needed to.
Only a quarter of his breakfast remained, and Corbeau was stuffed. He was belching and huffing between bites, fork unsteady in his hand while his free hand rubbed slow circles into his bloated and aching gut. Harmony was touching herself next to him, fingers working in and out of her desperate pussy.
A cramp gripped him when he swallowed. He bent over, forehead on the countertop, but when he tried to groan he just let out a long, thick burp instead.
“F-uurp, fuck,” he panted, voice strained. His stomach was so full that it felt like there wasn’t enough room for him to inhale a full breath. “Harm’ny, hurts.”
Harmony moaned, but took her fingers out of herself. She wiped them on her shirt, then placed a gentle hand between Corbeau’s shoulder blades. Even the slightest touch worked another burp out from his grumbling stomach.
“You need help getting to bed?” she asked softly.
Corbeau nodded, feeling a little pathetic. She steadied him with two hands on his shoulders as he rose to his feet.
Corbeau would probably never get used to the sensation of walking (well, waddling) while he was well and truly stuffed. His center of gravity was pulled entirely to his bloated gut, and it almost felt like he was going to fall forward with every step he took. He couldn’t even straighten his back without the pressure being too much for him, and so he hunched forward with both hands resting gently on his overstuffed stomach. He groaned under his breath, a small burp bubbling up from the depths of his gut every few unsteady steps.
Harmony was with him, though, and she murmured little words of encouragement as they slowly made their way to Corbeau’s bedroom. Her pupils were blown wide and a blush was still bright on her cheeks. It reminded Corbeau that the discomfort was worth it.
“You’re doing great, honey,” Harmony said softly, like she was speaking to a Pokemon with a status condition. Corbeau’s dignity insisted he allowed himself to be patronized, but a creature that lived in his head lapped up the kind words desperately.
Corbeau lowered himself gingerly onto the bed, then swung his legs up. Harmony busied herself with collecting pillows to place at his back so he could sit up comfortably. Once four pillows were propping him up, she scurried to the bathroom and returned with a bottle of antacids and a glass of water.
Corbeau chewed and swallowed an antacid tablet with little more than a tepid belch, then gratefully sipped some of the water.
Harmony leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I love you.”
Corbeau grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, relishing in the faint soapy scent of her skin.
“You want me to…?” Harmony gestured down at the flagging erection in Corbeau’s boxers. He waved her off.
“Too tired. Go eat your breakfast.”
Harmony smiled at him as she left the room, closing the door behind her. The blackout curtains were still closed, and the darkness of the room combined with the warm weight of a full stomach had Corbeau nodding off quickly.
Corbeau didn’t dream often, and the ones he did have were rarely good. This one was clearly more freeform than the classic “my sleeping bag got stolen and now I really don’t have anything” or the more modern “I’m in a very high-profile Syndicate meeting and I’m only wearing my underwear.”
No, this one was different for sure.
Harmony was all over him. His hips were bracketed by her knees, and her hands were warm on his bare skin as she pressed into the supple give of his body. They roamed freely, grabbing at the paunch around his torso and squeezing the thickness of his thighs.
Because that was the other key difference. Corbeau must have been a good ten kilos heavier. A very small portion of it might have been muscle with which to better carry his newfound bulk, but it was evident that in the universe of this particular dream, Corbeau spent most of his time sitting on a slowly widening ass and stuffing himself full to bursting.
It was also abundantly clear that Harmony was about ready to cum in her pants about it. She pressed her palm to one of Corbeau’s flabby pecs and shoved her face into his neck to moan.
“Lookit how big you got for me,” she slurred hotly into his skin. “Always eating so much for me, being so good. Look how fat that made you.”
Her hand pressed into his gut as it slid down to grab at his rock-hard cock. Corbeau arched into her touch, whining high through his nose.
“You’re my big fucking boy, aren’t you? My Snorlax?”
Corbeau moaned as she pulled back the waistband of his boxers (how many sizes up were these?) and grasped his cock directly. Her grip was firm, thumb smearing precum over the head as she worked his foreskin back and forth. Her free hand reached up and felt the softness at his jawline.
“Fuck, honey, so fucking hot. You like it? You like being so fat for me? Wanna get fatter?” Harmony was babbling, now, maneuvering herself so she could rut her pussy into one of Corbeau’s pillowy thighs. He could feel slick soaking through her panties and onto his skin. “You wanna keep eating so good, Corbeau? Be my fat fucking Snorlax? Let me spoil you?”
Corbeau had definitely adjusted to this new lifestyle, where Harmony made sure all his food-related whims were met. He knew she got off on serving him, but could he get off on being taken care of? Even if it meant surrendering control?
“Wanna fill you up,” Harmony growled. “Wanna stuff your gut til you’re moaning for me.”
The younger version of Corbeau that still lived inside of him, the boy with stick-out ribs and knobby hipbones, was desperate to always know another meal was coming soon. He wanted Harmony to adore him, to shower him with treats and praise for no reason at all.
“You wanna keep eating so good, Corbeau? Be my fat fucking Snorlax? Let me spoil you?”
Corbeau swallowed thickly, then nodded.
“Can’t hear you,” Harmony cooed, biting at his neck and twisting her hand on an upstroke. Stars flashed in Corbeau’s vision, and he whimpered.
“Wanna be spoiled,” he managed. “Wanna be treated nice.”
Harmony pressed a feather-light kiss to his cheek. “Such a good boy.”
Corbeau woke up mid-orgasm. The hand that had previously been supporting the lower region of his bloated stomach had strayed further down, and now his cock was twitching against it as hot cum painted the inside of his boxers. He couldn’t hold back a strained moan, hips stuttering forward as best they could while pinned under the weight of a very large breakfast.
When the apex of his orgasm finally faded, he immediately became embarrassed. Cumming in his pants like a teenager was silly enough, but getting off to being fed and coddled by his girlfriend was especially humiliating. That wasn’t even getting into the idea that he may have enjoyed being so… large.
Corbeau leaned back, pushing his glasses up to dig the heels of his hands into his eyes. To be fair, he reasoned, one of his closest friends was also a rather large man. But as a boss and his right-hand man they had found themselves in enough compromising situations that Corbeau knew Philippe was made of solid muscle behind the swell of his abdomen. Corbeau, on the other hand, had always been skinny. He had enough muscle to get by when training with his own Pokemon, but he wasn’t exactly able to roughhouse with Steelix the way Philippe so enjoyed doing. Philippe’s weight made him look powerful. If Corbeau were to gain more weight, he’d probably just look… soft.
Soft. Harmony had called him soft many times, mostly in reference to his treatment of her or their respective teams. Nobody else would ever dare accuse him of such a thing. In that context, though, being soft was a compliment.
He liked it when Harmony complimented him.
As if she had been summoned, Harmony pushed open the door to his bedroom. She was carrying her apron, stained and balled-up, and when she got to Corbeau’s closet she dropped it in the green plastic hamper they had wordlessly agreed belonged to her. She turned toward Corbeau, and seeing that he was awake, gave him a smile that hit like a Dazzling Gleam.
“Good morning! Or afternoon--it’s a little after one. How are you feeling, honey?”
Corbeau managed a smile. “Slightly less full. But I really need a shower.”
“Didn’t you already-?” Her eyes dipped down to the wet patch at the front of Corbeau’s boxers. “Oh. Huh. Was it nice?”
“I was only awake for half of it.”
“Good dream?”
Corbeau nodded. It was very difficult to not immediately tell her everything that had transpired in his sleep, but he held his tongue and tried not to feel guilty about it.
He stood up, grimacing at the sensation of cooling cum rubbing into his skin and underwear, and took Harmony’s hand, following her to the bathroom. The scale was still on the floor, but Harmony nudged it aside with her foot as they approached the shower.
Corbeau watched intently as she began to strip. Her oversized sleep shirt came off first, revealing the slight curve of her waist and her perky little breasts. His fingers twitched at his sides, desperate to grab at her exposed skin. She dropped her panties next, kicking them aside unceremoniously.
She really was breathtaking, with a pert ass and wild curls growing over her vulva. If Corbeau hadn’t literally just cum, he was certain he’d be hard at the sight of her.
“Can you turn the water on?” she asked, looking sheepish. “I can never figure out the knobs in here.”
Corbeau laughed, moving closer to her and pressing a fond kiss to her cheek. For a moment, everything was blissfully normal and he hadn’t had a sexual awakening sponsored by whatever legendary or mythical Pokemon controlled wet dreams. He reached down and spun the left knob counterclockwise almost all the way around, then turned the right one slightly in the same direction.
“Left is hot water, right is cold water,” he explained for what was absolutely the millionth time. To be fair, they were confusing--he’d called Philippe to ask which was which almost once a week for his first year living in the penthouse.
Corbeau slid his boxers down, careful not to spread his cum anywhere it didn’t need to be. He folded them as neatly as possible, then placed them next to the sink. After a rinse, they could go in his hamper.
When he turned around, Harmony was already under the spray of the shower. His view of her was slightly distorted by the texture of the shower’s glass door, but she was still stunningly beautiful beneath the spray of water as she ran her hands through her hair.
Corbeau set his glasses next to the soiled boxers, then pushed the door aside and slipped in next to her. He was eternally thankful that Philippe preferred rainfall showers and they didn’t need to take turns warming themselves in the thin stream produced by a normal shower nozzle.
Immediately, Harmony’s hands began exploring Corbeau’s body. She gripped his hips, running her hands up his sides until they made contact with the dark hair in his armpits, then slid back down.
“I think it’s really hot that you’ve gained some weight,” she murmured into his ear, like someone else was in the bathroom and might be able to hear them. “Like, really hot.”
“I had no idea you felt that way,” Corbeau teased, reaching up and rubbing a thumb over her left nipple.
Harmony giggled, then leaned in to kiss him. Their lips met like puzzle pieces, and her wet hair dripped water in rivulets down Corbeau’s chest. She curled her tongue into his mouth, slowly exploring the inside of his lips. It tasted vaguely of syrup.
Corbeau’s cock twitched valiantly, but he knew he wouldn’t get hard again for a little while longer. Instead, he ran a hand down Harmony’s inner thigh and felt her melt under his touch.
He pulled back, pressing a kiss beneath her ear. “You like seeing what all that food you cook does to me?”
Harmony squirmed under his touch, nodding. He licked a hot stripe up her neck, over her jugular, and she moaned softly. His fingers gently parted her labia and pressed against her clit.
“You like watching me eat until I can’t have another bite?”
“Y-yeah.” Her voice was soft, pliant. He began to rub her clit and she all but collapsed against him.
“I really wanted to eat more,” he confessed, sinking slowly to his knees. Thank Arceus for non-slip shower mats. “Got too full, though. But right now?”
“Mmnh,” Harmony supplied, widening her stance and gripping his wet hair.
“You look fucking delicious.”
Corbeau brought his mouth up to her clit, suckling at it with his lips while his tongue occasionally peeked out to run across it. Harmony moaned above him, voice dropping low like it always did when she was feeling particularly good.
“Corbeau,” she breathed when Corbeau pressed himself as close to her as possible and worked his tongue across her hot, wet entrance. “Fuck, Corbeau!”
He chuckled fondly into her pussy, licking at her clit. She gripped his hair tightly.
“Fuck, I’m so turned on,” Harmony whined. “Already close.”
Corbeau sped up his movements, sliding a hand up her inner thigh and nudging two fingers against her pussy. Slowly, agonizingly, he pushed them into the wet heat. Then he started fucking them in and out at a brutal pace.
It only took thirty seconds or so before Harmony was cumming hard, moaning loudly while her desperate pussy clamped down tight around Corbeau’s fingers. Her hips and thighs twitched of their own accord and the hands in his hair clenched into fists as her orgasm shook through her.
Corbeau greedily lapped up the liquid she squirted onto his tongue, working her through it until she was pulling him away from her by the scalp. She was blurry and ethereal above him, chest heaving and skin soaked, and Corbeau drank in the sight like it was a painting.
“Fuck,” she panted. “You are so good at that.”
Corbeau’s cock was slowly coming back to life. He held onto Harmony as he rose back to his feet, then pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“You’re so pretty when you come apart for me.” He took her hand and pressed it to his half-hard member. Her fingers curled around it instantly.
“My turn!” With a cheerful grin, she dropped to her knees.
Corbeau could never get over how much she seemed to genuinely enjoy having his cock in her mouth. She wasted no time in taking down the head, teeth hidden carefully behind curled lips while her tongue worked over the sensitive tip. She sucked experimentally, slowly ramping up the pressure until he was fully erect in her hand.
Corbeau silently bemoaned the falling water that prevented Harmony from glancing up at him--he loved looking into her big Deerling eyes while she sucked him off. Her lips inched further and further down his shaft until she was at her limit. The portion that didn’t fit into her mouth stayed in her hand, and she pumped it in rhythm as she worked her mouth over him.
Corbeau moaned low from his chest, placing a hand on her head both to keep her grounded and prevent water from flowing over her face and getting into her nose. The wet heat of Harmony’s mouth was addictive, and he felt arousal simmering low in his gut.
“There you go, beautiful,” he murmured softly. “So sweet, sucking me off like this. Take such good care of me.” She hummed around him in excitement, increasing the suction of her mouth until he was moaning again.
His breath came in hot huffs and his muscles started to tighten as he thought more about just how well he’d been taken care of recently. Meals Harmony cooked for him, sometimes personally delivered to the office. How excited and shiny her big brown eyes got when he took the first bite of whatever she made for him. The reverence with which she touched his softening body, like it was perfect. The eagerness with which she worshipped his cock. He really was spoiled.
“Love you,” he babbled between soft moans and high whimpers, eyes slipping shut. “Love you so much, baby. Please keep going.”
Harmony seemingly doubled her efforts, swallowing the precum that had collected in her mouth and sliding her lips up and down the head with speed and strong suction. Sometimes she pulled completely off, and Corbeau had to try his best not to whine aloud at the brief loss of contact.
“Fuck, fuck, Harm’ny, feels so good, you’re so perfect!” Corbeau’s words echoed in the small space of the shower, high and desperate, as he hurtled towards orgasm. “Please spoil me, please take care of me, wanna be good for you, wanna be yours!”
Heat spread through his body as his cock twitched and began to spurt cum into Harmony’s mouth. His hips stuttered and his body shook as she swallowed everything he gave her. She worked him through it until the second he made a little overstimulated noise, then pulled off, panting, and rested her forehead on his still-bloated stomach.
A hand came up and stroked his outer thigh as Harmony spent a few seconds catching her breath. She looked up at him, squinting against the spray of water.
“Did you mean to say that last bit?”
The flush that was spreading down Corbeau’s chest turned prickly and uncomfortable. He wanted to say no, that he was just caught up in the fuzzy space that enveloped him before he came, but that would be a lie. He never lied to Harmony. Instead, he nodded.
She stood slowly, gripping his hips for balance, and pulled him into a hug. “Wanna talk about it?”
He nodded, chin bumping her shoulder. It would probably be a similar discussion to the one he had with Harmony almost a year ago, when she first expressed interest in giving up control. He wondered if she would approach it the same way he had, with a massive spreadsheet containing every possible way to turn her on color-coded according to what had been tried and how she reacted. Feeding dominant was a vibrant purple, along with taking orders and praise.
When they parted, Harmony was grinning at him. “I love you, too, by the way.”
Corbeau allowed his mouth to quirk into a small smile. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, savoring the softness of her skin against his lips. She was seriously too good to him.
It wound up being a long shower--a talking shower, is what Harmony called it. The kind where Corbeau fidgeted in embarrassment and Harmony spoke a little too casually for the subject matter. It was only when they were standing together on the plush bath mat, both wrapped in fluffy lavender towels, that Corbeau felt he could relax somewhat.
“When you want to try it,” Harmony was saying, squeezing water out of her hair, “just say the word. I’ll try my best to take care of you.”
Then she tilted her head down and kissed him, gentle and reassuring. Corbeau melted into it, pouring love into the soft movements of his lips. He let some heat seep into it, playing with her lower lip in that way she still hadn’t outright told him she enjoyed.
She pulled back, breath coming a little fast. “You’re teasing me again.”
“Not teasing,” Corbeau replied, stroking her jaw with his thumb. “Just want you. Still owe you one more orgasm.”
“Come give it to me, then.” Harmony let her towel fall to the floor as she strode out of the bathroom and toward Corbeau’s bed. He allowed himself a few moments to be mesmerized by her ass, then hurried after her.
As usual, the sex was mind-blowing, and the rest of the day bobbed along like only a Sunday could. They spent it in their underwear, occasionally groping at each other lazily without glancing up from the TV or their Rotom phones. For dinner, Corbeau ate a modest portion of the strange Unovan food known as meatloaf while Harmony explained in great detail her strategy for that night’s Royale, complete with a hastily drawn flowchart on the back of her printed-out recipe for Torchic noodle soup.
It was a truly idyllic way to spend the latter half of a weekend, and when the sun disappeared and it was time for Harmony to hit the Battle Zones Corbeau tried not to mourn it too obviously. Harmony noticed anyway, as she always did, and promised to text him after her tenth win.
Corbeau stood at the window, feeling a bit like a forlorn Pokemon watching its trainer leave for work as Harmony strode away from the building and disappeared around a corner. He made himself a cup of tea and busied himself with his laptop and the familiar jumble of documents and e-signatures that made up his work life, though he knew Harmony and Philippe would have complaints if they knew this was how he was going to spend his Sunday night.
An hour passed, and his Rotom phone buzzed in the pocket of his sweatpants. He freed it, and Harmony’s contact photo (grinning wildly in her pajamas on Hotel Z’s rooftop with the sunrise behind her) blinked up at him.
Tenth W! Not as much of a challenge as I anticipated but everyone’s having fun.
Corbeau smiled, thumbs a blur as he replied: Can’t imagine why someone of your skill level would struggle to find a worthy opponent.
An emoticon of a cheeky-looking Tepig was all she sent in response. Corbeau didn’t fully understand her affinity for the little images, but he could admit they were a bit cute.
He continued his work uninterrupted until it was late enough to justify going to sleep. Sometimes he had a hard time believing he’d spent a little under five years brushing his teeth alone and sliding into a bed that was too big for just one person. He supposed it was hard to feel lonely when that was just how life worked back then.
Now, Harmony’s absence was a little bit like an open wound. He felt it every time he shifted against the sheets, and he could sense his overwhelming love for her leaking out of him steadily like blood.
If Harmony knew how mopey he could get from just one night without her, she would call him soft. He could hear it, her voice tender and teasing all at once while it prodded at him. He thought about the 66 on the scale that morning, and the way these sweatpants were slightly snug around his waist, and supposed she could also say that in a more literal sense.
He liked it. He was able to admit that to himself alone in the dark of his bedroom. He liked that his body had changed for her. That she found him attractive like this. If eating a metric ton of pain perdu made her pussy use Water Gun then he was going to do that as much as physically possible and embrace anything that came with it.
The memory of her moans had his cock twitching in interest. He palmed at it roughly, thinking back to his dream as heat stirred in his gut. He wanted to be good for Harmony, to do exactly as she told him and then be thoroughly worshipped for it.
Arceus, he wanted her so bad right now. Suddenly his two earlier orgasms didn’t mean anything--his cock was desperate for her touch, and his own hand was a poor replacement.
He reached blindly to his nightstand for his Rotom phone, bringing it close to his face and squinting at the screen. He typed with one thumb, movements jerky as his other hand kept rubbing over his clothed erection, and sent a frankly embarrassing text message before dropping it and trusting the Rotom to find its way back to the charger.
He was just wrestling his sweatpants and boxers off when a brief flash of pink light filled the room, and suddenly Harmony and her Gardevoir were standing at the foot of the bed. Corbeau sat up ramrod straight at the intrusion, half-removed clothes forgotten as he gaped at the both of them.
“Thanks, Gardevoir!” Harmony chirped, fishing a Poke ball out of her satchel and holding it out to her partner.
Gardevoir made a low noise before returning to the ball. Harmony stuck it back in her satchel casually, then shed her jacket into a pile on the floor.
“You need me?” she teased, already unbuttoning her jeans. “Want me to take good care of you?”
Corbeau nodded so hard his brain rattled in his skull. “Please.”
Harmony stripped quickly, and Corbeau followed suit. There was no great fanfare, no pause to inspect each other; Harmony just clicked on the bedside lamp and flung herself on top of him.
She groped the modest roll of his stomach and slotted her thigh between his legs as her lips met his. Corbeau made a high noise against her when she moved her leg to give friction to his weeping cock.
“So pretty,” Harmony breathed when she pulled back. “You’re getting so soft and gorgeous for me, aren’t you?”
“Y-yeah,” Corbeau whined in response, rutting against her. He was so hard it ached, and he could feel heat blazing across the surface of his skin.
“So good, so perfect. Always such a big eater for me,” she cooed. Her teeth grazed his neck when she leaned forward to kiss it, and Corbeau’s breath came in hot little moans.
“Wanna be good. Wanna eat so much for you. So nice to me, always make me good food.”
“Aw, you want it so bad? Such a good boy.”
The words were like a Thunderbolt that went straight to Corbeau’s cock. It twitched against Harmony’s thigh, and she giggled.
“You’re adorable, baby. So desperate for me.”
Corbeau nodded, letting his head fall forward against her shoulder. Her fingers wrapped around his cock and he almost wept as she tugged at it harshly.
“My pretty fucking boy,” Harmony murmured, pumping his cock in a gentle rhythm. “My sweet little Snorlax.”
“I’m your Snorlax,” Corbeau babbled. “Wanna eat so much for you, get so fat.”
“Oh, you will, cute thing. You’ll do whatever I tell you, right? You’ll eat seconds and thirds and fourths until you can’t fucking move for me.”
To be completely at her mercy, stuffed so full of her love he couldn’t get up… it sounded like the best thing in the world. The heat in Corbeau’s gut reached a fever pitch, moans flowing from his lips without any input from his brain and overwhelmed tears stinging at his eyes. Harmony reached down with her free hand and squeezed his thigh, playing with the softness there.
“See? You’re already getting bigger for me. Already packing on weight.”
She twisted her hand as she stroked his cock, and a sob wracked Corbeau’s chest. He scrabbled at her back, gripping her desperately as his orgasm crested the horizon.
“Fuck, fuck, ‘m close, wanna be good!”
“You are so good, baby,” Harmony reassured him, thumbing at the head of his cock and spreading more precum down his twitching shaft. Then, almost like she was nervous to say it, she added: “Cum for Mommy, sweetheart.”
Corbeau screamed, eyes screwing shut and limbs thrashing under Harmony’s hands as cum spurted out of him. He was awash in a tidal wave of bliss as his orgasm was wrung from each and every muscle in his body, coming together in the form of blinding heat that blistered in the pit of his stomach. His vision went completely white and his mind went completely blank, wholly overwhelmed by the sensations that crashed into him.
It could have been minutes or hours before he came back to himself, trembling and sweating as Harmony pressed gentle kisses to his collarbone and murmured soothing praise. She was reverent in her touch, stroking the portion of his stomach that wasn’t covered in white cum like it was the most important stretch of skin in the world.
Slowly, vaguely worried he would faint, Corbeau lifted his head from her shoulder and loosened his grip on her. He let himself fall back against the pillows, shuddering at the quickly cooling liquid that dripped down his front.
“Hang on, pretty boy,” Harmony said, snatching up the ever-reliable bedside tissue box and catching the cum before it could get onto the sheets. “Don’t want to make a mess.”
He was blissfully buzzed, high on orgasm and being Harmony’s good boy. His eyelids were heavy and his head was full of mush, but he reached toward the wiry curls concealing Harmony’s pussy like a man on a mission.
She caught him, shaking her head. “Not right now, baby. Gotta take care of you still. Do you need some water? Maybe a little snack?”
Corbeau nodded lazily. An orange sounded fucking amazing right now.
Harmony laughed, and he realized he’d said that aloud. “Alright, sweetheart. Anything for you.”
She pressed a kiss to his forehead that he drank in desperately and then got up, moving toward the kitchen with the slow grace of a Frosslass. Corbeau watched her go, blinking slowly. He had to tell her the same thing when she got back.
Emphasis on the anything.