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Ze feels Regect slip in behind him. The sheets are cold, for a moment, as the air rushes in, then they warm back up again. Regect’s body runs hotter than he thought, it’s not as ice cold as he would have assumed. It’s nice, during the winter; it’s nice.
Ze pretends to sleep, so Regect doesn’t bother him. The entity had learnt, eventually, that people really did need to sleep, and that Ze would shoot him if he didn’t get enough hours, so he doesn’t question it, when he comes to bed and Ze is asleep. Silly things, humans, sleeping so much.
Still, Regect wraps his arm around Ze’s waist, pulling him closer – possessive bastard – and Ze does his best not to move, feels the claws encase his stomach and tries not to flinch.
It’s not – well, it is. It’s just that, his stomach feels big like this, wrapped up as tight as it can be, as tight as Regect wants it. Ze has never been – he's never been good, with keeping in shape. It’s one of the reasons he was sent to bootcamp. Toughen him up, make him a man, get him working out all proper.
Food wasn’t that good, at bootcamp. It was all grey mush and pink bits of meat that he almost threw up on. It was easier, not to eat. It was deserved, really, considering how fat he had gotten, how complacent, how weak. The food was shit, and he didn’t deserve even that.
After the bootcamp, after everything, food still hadn’t gone the best. It was nice, sometimes, being hungry, feeling a constant sort of pain that kept him centered, focused within himself. There was a trick to it, you see, if you stopped eating long enough, then the pain would go away, would fade into the background, would become manageable to ignore, and Ze didn’t want to ignore it. But, if he tricked his body, it all worked out fine.
See, this is what he did, one day he’d eat breakfast, and then feel the hunger pangs for the rest of the day. The next he’d eat lunch, and his body, preparing for breakfast, would shake and tremor. It worked. It did – it kept him good. It kept him well.
Regect though, in a benign act of humanity, wanted to eat their meals together. At least Ze had managed to convince him that humans ate twice a day instead of twelve fucking times (Ze didn’t know where Regect had gotten that number from, but he was sure it was halfway between his knees and chest) so he didn’t have to go through that hardship.
But it still left Ze with a problem; he was eating way too much.
He had tried everything to skip meals, distracting Regect, irritating Regect, and, on one memorable occasion, getting himself kidnapped. That one hadn’t ended well – for the pirates, at least, and Ze, who was coddled horribly for the week after. But, nothing worked, so, like clockwork, they sat down together for a ‘family meal’.
Ze could feel himself getting bigger. With every bite, he could feel his hunger slipping away, could feel the complacent feeling of fullness take its place. He hated it, wanted to tear the food out from him, wanted to feel small again.
Regect clutches tighter around his waist, and Ze wants to cut and butcher until there's nothing left. Wants so much to feel his stomach cramping until it’s so small it can only be empty, forever empty.
He doesn’t sleep that night; can’t find how.
It comes to him in the morning, nibbling on his breakfast with Regect and Moe sitting beside him.
“See, you’re right Moe, I do think that dismembering is easier starting from the bottom, but you have to think about the head-”
Moe honks.
Ze checks out of the conversation, it’s nothing out of the ordinary, then-
“You’re right, you’re right – but I’ve always found vomit more disgusting than blood, I don’t know why-”
And Ze – Ze hears that. And, see, he’s always thought there’s only one way out for food, but that’s not right, is it? He has to eat – Regect makes him eat – but it doesn’t have to go to his stomach, does it? It doens’t have to make him bigger, does it?
It’s hard the first time – but really only the first. It’s awkward, kneeling in front of the toilet, fingers shoved down his throat, but it works. He feels the food slipping out of him, feels himself slim down into something better. And – the best part of all, it hurts. The food hurts as it travels back up, burning his throat and hurting and hurting and it’s wonderful.
It’s so easy too, Regect doesn’t know how the digestive system works, stays away from the bathroom, so it’s so easy to just slip in after every meal, throw up everything he’d stuffed down and live that way – it’s a perfect system.
The next night, Regect slips into bed with him again, wraps an arm around Ze’s waist, it clutches, but not as close, there’s more room and Ze can only just hide a grin. It’s working. It’s working.