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Vox couldn't move.
That was the first coherent thought that managed to pierce through the haze of overwhelming fullness that had consumed his mind for the past—how long had it been? An hour? Two? Time had become meaningless somewhere between the third and fourth course Valentino had insisted he finish.
The overlord of technology lay sprawled across the massive bed in Val's penthouse suite, his screen-face flickering with static as he struggled to process the sensations overwhelming his circuits. His suit jacket had been discarded hours ago, the buttons having given up their valiant fight. His shirt was unbuttoned completely now, unable to contain the rounded swell of his middle that rose and fell with each labored breath.
He'd gained weight. A lot of it.
What had started as Valentino's "appreciation" for keeping Vox well-fed had spiraled into something else entirely over the past few months. The moth demon had a talent for excess, and he'd applied that talent enthusiastically to making sure Vox never went hungry. Lavish dinners, decadent desserts, late-night snacks delivered with a kiss and a purr—it had all added up.
Vox's once-sharp frame had softened considerably. His chest had filled out, his thighs had thickened, and his stomach... his stomach had developed into a proper gut that now rested heavily against him, pinning him in place as effectively as any restraints.
"V-Val..." he managed to gasp out, his voice distorted with static. His hands twitched uselessly at his sides, too weighed down by the pressure in his abdomen to lift properly.
But that wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was the desperate, throbbing need between his legs that he couldn't do anything about.
His cock strained against the confines of his pants, achingly hard, and Vox couldn't even reach it. Every time he tried to move his hand down, his overstuffed belly got in the way, and the shift in position sent uncomfortable waves through his overtaxed system. He was trapped in a hell of his and Val's own making—too full to move, too aroused to think straight, and completely, utterly helpless.
"Fuck," he whimpered, the sound crackling through his speakers. His screen flickered again, displaying fragmented images of static and error messages. "Val, please—"
Valentino had been watching from across the room, lounging in an armchair with a glass of wine and that infuriatingly smug smile playing across his lips. He'd orchestrated this entire evening, of course—the endless parade of rich foods, the insistence that Vox finish every bite, the casual touches and whispered praise that had kept Vox complianteven as his waistband grew tighter and tighter.
Now the moth demon rose with fluid grace, setting his glass aside and approaching the bed with predatory interest.
"Look at you," Val purred, his accent thick with satisfaction. "Mi gordito precioso. So full you can't even touch yourself. That's quite the predicament, isn't it?"
Vox's screen flashed with humiliation and desperate need. Whatever self-respect he'd been clinging to evaporated under the weight of his arousal.
"Please," he begged, and he hated how pathetic he sounded, how his voice cracked with static. "Val, I can't—I need—fuck, please, I'll do anything—"
Tears of frustration were actually forming at the edges of his screen, threatening to spill over. He was the fucking Vox, overlord of technology, media mogul of Hell, and here he was reduced to a whimpering, overstuffed mess, begging for relief he couldn't give himself.
Valentino's expression shifted, genuine affection mixing with his sadistic pleasure. He climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and positioned himself between Vox's thick thighs.
"Anything?" Val repeated, running his hands up those thighs, feeling the new softness there. "You've already given me everything, cariño. Look at this beautiful body."
His hands continued their journey upward, sliding over Vox's hips—wider now, perfect for grabbing—and then to that gloriously rounded stomach. Val's fingers sank into the soft flesh with reverent appreciation.
"You've gotten so big for me," Val murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made Vox's circuits spark. "So soft. So perfect. I love every new pound on you."
He leaned forward, pressing kisses to the curve of Vox's belly, feeling how taut and full it was beneath the layer of fat. Vox gasped, his whole body trembling. "You wear it so well," Val continued, his hands kneading and worshipping the plush flesh. "These thick thighs, this soft chest, this gorgeous gut... Dios mío, you're delicious."
"Val, please—" Vox was openly crying now, tears streaming down his screen in pixelated rivulets. "I need—I can't—"
"Shh, I know, baby. I know." Val's hands finally moved to Vox's pants, deftly unfastening them and carefully working them down over his hips. Vox's cock sprang free, flushed and leaking, and he sobbed with relief just at being released from that confinement.
But he still couldn't reach it. His belly was in the way, and he was too full to bend, too stuffed to do anything but lie there and pant.
Valentino took his time, drinking in the sight. Vox, completely at his mercy, soft and vulnerable and desperate. It was intoxicating.
"You want me to take care of this?" Val asked, wrapping one hand around Vox's shaft and giving it a slow stroke. Vox nearly screamed, his hips trying to buck but unable to move properly under the weight of his overfull stomach.
"Yes! Fuck, yes, please—"
Val smirked and leaned down, positioning himself so that Vox's rounded belly pressed against his face as he took the head of Vox's cock into his mouth.
The sensation was overwhelming. The soft pressure of his gut against Val's face, the wet heat of Val's mouth around him, the relief of finally, finally being touched—it all crashed over Vox like a tidal wave.
He couldn't thrust, couldn't move, could only lie there and take it as Valentino worked him over with expert skill. Val's tongue swirled around the sensitive head, his lips sealed tight as he sucked, and all the while that gorgeous belly pressed against him, a constant reminder of how thoroughly he'd transformed Vox's body.
Valentino's long fingers dug into the soft, yielding flesh at Vox's sides, kneading the generous love handles with obvious appreciation. The overlord's claws traced teasing patterns across the expanse of Vox's belly, sending shivers through the television demon's frame.
"Fuck, Val—" Vox's screen flickered with static, his voice distorting with pleasure as Valentino's tongue worked expertly along his length. The moth demon hummed in satisfaction, the vibration making Vox's thighs quiver.
"Relax, cariño," Valentino purred, pulling back just enough to speak, his breath hot against sensitive skin. "Let me take care of you. You know how much I love every inch of this body."
And he meant it. Valentino's eyes gleamed with genuine desire as he gazed up at Vox's substantial form sprawled across the bed. Where others might see excess, Valentino saw abundance—soft curves to grab onto, warm flesh to worship, weight that spoke of indulgence and power. His hands roamed possessively over Vox's thick thighs, squeezing appreciatively.
Vox's screen displayed fragmented images—error messages mixing with expressions of ecstasy. His hands gripped the sheets, unable to reach past his own belly to touch himself or Valentino. The frustration of his immobility only heightened the intensity of sensation, making him completely dependent on his partner's ministrations.
"You're so fucking hot like this," Valentino murmured, his accent thickening with arousal. "So big, so powerful... and all mine." He punctuated his words by taking Vox deeper, his skilled mouth working with practiced ease.
Vox's breathing came in ragged electronic bursts, his cooling fans whirring loudly as his systems struggled to manage the heat flooding through him. "Val... fuck... don't stop..." Val—oh fuck—Val—" Vox's voice was breaking apart into pure static, his screen glitching wildly. His hands clutched uselessly at the sheets, his thick thighs trembling on either side of Val's shoulders.
Valentino hummed around him, the vibration sending fresh sparks of pleasure through Vox's system. He took him deeper, his face pressing into the soft underside of Vox's belly, surrounded by the evidence of his handiwork.
It was too much. After being denied for so long, after being so desperate and helpless, Vox couldn't hold back. His orgasm hit him like a system crash, whiting out his screen completely as he came with a garbled cry that was half-moan, half-electronic screech. Val swallowed it all, working him through it until Vox was twitching with oversensitivity, little sparks of electricity dancing across his screen.
When Val finally pulled off and looked up, Vox was a complete wreck—screen flickering weakly, chest heaving, tears still streaming down his display. He looked thoroughly debauched and absolutely beautiful.
Valentino had no intention of stopping. His hands continued their exploration, one gripping Vox's love handle firmly while the other traced the underside of his belly, feeling how it rose and fell with each labored breath. The moth demon's own arousal was evident, but he was entirely focused on Vox's pleasure, determined to make his partner come undone.
"That's it, mi amor," Valentino encouraged, his voice a seductive purr. "Let go. Let me hear those beautiful sounds you make."
Vox's screen crackled with interference, his usual composure completely shattered. The combination of Valentino's mouth, his wandering hands, and his filthy praise was overwhelming. He felt himself building toward climax, his entire body tensing despite— or perhaps because of—his inability to participate actively.
Valentino sensed Vox approaching the edge and doubled his efforts, hollowing his cheeks and using his tongue in ways that made Vox's screen go completely white with static for a moment. His fingers dug deeper into those love handles, using them as leverage to control the pace.
"Val... I'm gonna—" Vox's warning dissolved into a garbled electronic moan as pleasure crashed over him. His screen displayed a cascade of glitching images, his whole body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.
Valentino worked him through it, swallowing and continuing his ministrations until Vox was trembling with oversensitivity. Only then did he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and grinning up at his partner with obvious satisfaction.
"Delicious," Valentino purred, crawling up Vox's body to press a deep kiss to his screen. "You're always so responsive for me, cariño."
Vox's display slowly stabilized, showing his flushed, satisfied expression. "Fuck... you're too good at that."
"I know," Valentino said smugly, settling beside Vox and running his hand possessively over the television demon's belly. "And I love every second of it. Love every part of you."
Vox's screen flickered with something softer—affection mixing with lingering pleasure. Despite his usual need for control, there was something deeply satisfying about surrendering to Valentino like this, about being desired so completely despite—or because of—his size.
"Your turn?" Vox asked, his voice still slightly distorted.
Valentino's grin widened. "If you're offering, mi amor, I would never refuse."
With some effort and Valentino's assistance, Vox maneuvered himself into position. The shift made him acutely aware of his body—the way his belly pressed against the mattress, how his thighs spread wide to accommodate his bulk. Valentino reclined against the pillows, already hard and eager, one hand reaching down to stroke himself lazily as he watched Vox settle between his legs.
"Take your time, cariño," Valentino purred, his free hand reaching out to caress Vox's screen affectionately. "I want to enjoy the view."
Vox's display flickered with a mixture of arousal and self-consciousness, but he leaned forward, taking Valentino into his mouth. The moment he began to move, he felt it—the way his entire body responded to the motion. His belly swayed beneath him with each bob of his head, the soft flesh jiggling and shifting. His love handles moved in rhythm, and he could feel the weight of his chest, his arms, everything rippling with the momentum.
It was impossible to ignore. Every forward motion sent waves through his body, his flesh bouncing and settling before the next movement started the cycle again. The mattress creaked beneath his weight, and he could feel how his thighs pressed together, how his ass shifted with each adjustment of position.
"Fuck, yes," Valentino groaned, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he watched. "You look so fucking good like this, Vox. So beautiful."
The praise sent a thrill through Vox despite his awareness of how he must look—his massive form hunched over, body jiggling with effort, completely exposed and vulnerable. But Valentino's obvious arousal, the way his hips twitched upward seeking more, made it clear this wasn't just tolerance. Val genuinely loved this.
Vox hollowed his cheeks, using techniques he'd learned over their years together, and was rewarded with a sharp gasp from Valentino. The moth demon's hand moved to rest on the back of Vox's screen, not pushing, just touching, connecting.
"Wait, wait—hold on, mi amor," Valentino said breathlessly after a few minutes. Vox pulled back, confused, his screen displaying a questioning look.
Valentino reached over to the nightstand, pulling open a drawer and retrieving a box of expensive chocolates—the kind Vox loved, imported from some fancy overlord's territory. "Open up," Val commanded with a wicked grin.
Vox's screen flickered with surprise, but he opened his mouth. Valentino placed a rich truffle on his tongue, the chocolate melting immediately with decadent sweetness.
"Good boy," Valentino praised, his voice thick with arousal. "Now keep going. Every time you make me feel good, you get another treat."
The combination of sensations was overwhelming—the taste of chocolate mixing with Valentino's flavor, the continued awareness of his body moving and jiggling, the praise and reward system that made him feel simultaneously debauched and cherished. Vox resumed his efforts with renewed enthusiasm, his belly swaying rhythmically beneath him.
True to his word, Valentino fed him another chocolate after a particularly skilled maneuver that made the moth demon curse in Spanish. Then another when Vox took him deeper than before, fighting his gag reflex. Each treat was accompanied by praise, by Valentino's fingers stroking his screen, by groans of pleasure that made Vox's own arousal stir again despite his recent orgasm.
"So perfect for me," Valentino murmured, his voice getting breathier. "Love watching you move, love feeling you... fuck, Vox, I'm close..."
Vox doubled his efforts, feeling his body bounce and shift with the increased pace. His cooling fans whirred loudly, struggling to manage his exertion and arousal. The physical awareness of his size, rather than being shameful, had become erotic—knowing Valentino was watching every jiggle, every ripple, and loving it.
Valentino came with a shout, his hand tightening on Vox's screen as his hips bucked upward. Vox swallowed, working him through the aftershocks until Valentino was pushing him away with oversensitive whimpers.
"Incredible," Valentino panted, pulling Vox up for a deep kiss despite—or because of— being able to taste himself. He fed Vox three more chocolates in quick succession, then pulled him close. "You're so fucking perfect, Vox. Every inch of you."
Vox's screen displayed contentment, his body still tingling with awareness and satisfaction as he settled against Valentino's side, feeling thoroughly rewarded indeed.
They lay together in the aftermath, Vox's massive form taking up most of the bed while Valentino curled against him, one leg thrown over Vox's thick thigh, an arm draped across his soft belly. The moth demon's fingers traced lazy patterns through the fabric of Vox's shirt, occasionally dipping beneath to touch bare skin.
"You know," Valentino said softly, his breath warm against Vox's screen, "I've been thinking about this all week. Couldn't focus during shoots, kept imagining getting you home, getting my hands on you."
Vox's display flickered with pleased surprise. "Really? Even with all those... performers around you constantly?"
"Especially then," Valentino confirmed, pressing a kiss to the edge of Vox's screen. "They're work, cariño. You're... you're everything else." His hand splayed possessively across Vox's belly, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. "This body, this beautiful fucking body that you keep trying to hide from me—I dream about it."
The vulnerability in Valentino's voice made Vox's processors hum. It was rare for Val to drop his performative persona so completely, to be this genuine. Vox shifted slightly, feeling the way his body pressed against Valentino's leaner frame, the contrast between them.
"It's hard to believe sometimes," Vox admitted, his voice modulator crackling slightly with emotion. "When I look at myself, when I feel how much effort everything takes now..."
"Then let me show you," Valentino interrupted, sitting up slightly. He reached for the box of chocolates again, selecting one with careful deliberation. "Open." Vox obeyed, and Valentino placed the truffle on his tongue, watching with hooded eyes as Vox's screen displayed pleasure at the taste.
"You deserve to be indulged," Valentino said firmly. "You work yourself to death running your empire, managing everything, being the fucking backbone of our operation. You deserve to relax, to be taken care of, to enjoy yourself." He fed Vox another chocolate, then another. "And if that means you've gotten bigger, softer, more comfortable? Fuck, Vox, that just means there's more of you for me to worship."
Valentino's hands began to roam more deliberately now, pushing up Vox's shirt to expose his belly fully. The moth demon shifted position, moving to straddle Vox's thighs —or as much as he could with their size. His hands pressed into the soft flesh, kneading and caressing with obvious reverence.
"Look at you," Valentino breathed. "So fucking soft, so warm. Do you know what it does to me, feeling you like this? Knowing that you trust me enough to be vulnerable, to let me see you, touch you?" His fingers found Vox's love handles, gripping them firmly. "These drive me fucking crazy. When you're sitting in meetings, and I can see them through your shirt, I want to drag you out and have my way with you right there."
Vox's cooling fans kicked up again, his screen displaying a mix of arousal and embarrassment. "Val..."
"No, listen to me," Valentino insisted, leaning down to press kisses across Vox's chest, his belly, anywhere he could reach. "You're gorgeous. Every pound, every inch, every soft curve—it's all you, and I'm fucking obsessed with you." He looked up, meeting Vox's gaze. "I love that you can't do certain things yourself anymore. Love that you need me. Love being the one who gets to touch you, pleasure you, take care of you."
The confession hung in the air between them, more intimate than anything they'd done physically. Vox's hand came up to cup Valentino's face, his touch gentle despite his size.
"I love you," Vox said simply, the words appearing on his screen as well as coming through his speakers. "Even when I don't understand why you want this, want me like this—I love you."
"I want you like this because this is who you are right now," Valentino replied, turning his head to kiss Vox's palm. "And I'll want you however you are, always. But fuck, Vox, right now? You're perfect. So stop fighting it. Stop hiding. Let me love every part of you."
He punctuated his words with more chocolates, feeding Vox slowly, sensually, making each one an act of devotion. Vox accepted them, feeling something tight in his chest loosen with each treat, each caress, each murmured word of praise.
"That's it," Valentino encouraged as Vox relaxed further into the mattress, his body spreading out, taking up space without shame. "Just feel good, baby. Let me take care of you."
Valentino's hands continued their exploration, mapping every roll, every fold, every soft expanse of flesh. He paid special attention to the areas Vox was most self-conscious about—his belly, his chest, his thighs—lavishing them with touches and kisses until Vox was practically purring, his screen displaying contentment and arousal in equal measure.
"You're getting hard again," Valentino observed with a wicked grin, his hand sliding down to confirm. "Someone likes being pampered."
"Someone likes being wanted," Vox corrected, his voice thick with emotion and renewed desire.
"Then let me want you," Valentino whispered, already moving down Vox's body again. "Let me show you exactly how much. We've got all night, cariño, and I plan to spend every minute of it worshipping this beautiful body of yours."
And as Valentino's mouth found him again, as pleasure sparked through his systems once more, Vox finally let himself believe it—that he was desired, cherished, loved exactly as he was.
Valentino worked him slowly this time, savoring every moment, every sound that escaped Vox's speakers. His hands never stopped moving, caressing the soft expanse of Vox's belly, gripping his thick thighs, tracing the curves of his love handles. Each touch was deliberate, worshipful, designed to make Vox feel exactly how much he was wanted.
"Val," Vox gasped, his screen flickering with waves of pleasure. "I want—fuck, I want to touch you too."
Valentino pulled off with an obscene pop, looking up at Vox with surprise and delight. "Yeah? What do you want, baby?"
"Come here," Vox commanded, his voice taking on that authoritative edge that made Valentino shiver. Despite his size, despite his limitations, Vox was still a powerful overlord, still someone who could make demands. "I want you on your back. Now."
The shift in dynamic made Valentino's breath catch. He loved taking care of Vox, loved being the one in control, but there was something intoxicating about Vox asserting himself, claiming what he wanted. Valentino moved quickly, positioning himself on his back beside Vox, his own arousal obvious.
"Good," Vox rumbled, and with effort, he shifted his weight, rolling onto his side. The movement made his entire body jiggle and sway—his belly pressing against Valentino's hip, his chest heaving with the exertion. But instead of shame, Vox felt only determination and desire.
He reached out, his large hand wrapping around Valentino's length, and the moth demon gasped at the contact. Vox's touch was firm despite the softness of his body, confident despite his breathlessness.
"You've been so good to me," Vox said, his screen displaying intense focus as he stroked Valentino slowly. "Taking care of me, making me feel wanted. Let me return the favor."
Vox leaned down—as much as his bulk would allow—and took Valentino into his mouth. The position was awkward, his belly pressing heavily against the mattress, his body weight making his arm shake slightly with effort, but the moan that tore from Valentino's throat made it all worthwhile.
"Fuck, Vox," Valentino breathed, his hands immediately going to Vox's screen, caressing the edges reverently. "You don't have to—oh fuck—"
But Vox was determined. He worked Valentino with the same focus he brought to running his empire, learning what made his partner gasp and writhe. His body moved with each bob of his head—his belly swaying, his love handles shifting, his entire form
rippling with the motion. He could feel every jiggle, every bounce, the way his flesh moved independently, and instead of mortification, he felt powerful. Valentino wanted this, wanted him, was falling apart beneath him.
"That's so fucking hot," Valentino panted, one hand sliding down to grip Vox's shoulder, feeling the soft flesh give beneath his fingers. "Feeling you move, watching you—Christ, Vox, you're incredible."
The praise sent electricity through Vox's circuits. He doubled his efforts, taking Valentino deeper, using his hand in conjunction with his mouth. His own neglected arousal pressed against the mattress, the friction adding to his pleasure. Every movement of his body created sensation—his belly dragging against the sheets, his thighs rubbing together, his chest heaving with exertion.
"Vox, baby, I'm close," Valentino warned, his voice strained. "You're gonna make me— fuck—"
Vox didn't pull away. He wanted this, wanted to taste Valentino's pleasure, wanted to be the one giving instead of just receiving. When Valentino came with a sharp cry, Vox swallowed, his screen flickering with satisfaction and his own desperate arousal.
He pulled off slowly, his body trembling with effort and need. Valentino immediately pulled him into a deep kiss, tasting himself on Vox's tongue, moaning at the intimacy of it.
"You're still hard," Valentino observed, his hand sliding down Vox's body to confirm. "And you worked so hard for me. I think that deserves a reward, don't you?"
Before Vox could respond, Valentino was reaching for the chocolates again, selecting three and feeding them to Vox one by one. "Such a good boy," he praised between each treat. "Taking care of me so well. Making me feel so good."
Vox's cooling fans were working overtime, his entire system overwhelmed with sensation and emotion. Valentino's hand wrapped around him, stroking firmly, and Vox couldn't help the way his hips tried to thrust, making his entire body shake and bounce with the movement.
"That's it," Valentino encouraged, his other hand gripping Vox's love handle, feeling the flesh move and jiggle with each thrust. "Let me see you. Let me feel you. You're so fucking beautiful like this, baby. So desperate, so needy, so perfect."
Vox was beyond words, his screen displaying nothing but static and waves of color as pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Valentino fed him another chocolate, then another, the sweetness mixing with the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.
"Come for me," Valentino commanded, his voice low and hypnotic. "Let go. Show me how good I make you feel."
The combination of Valentino's skilled hand, his words of praise, the lingering taste of chocolate, and the acceptance—the pure, unconditional acceptance of his body—sent Vox over the edge. He came with a sound that was half-moan, half-electronic screech, his entire body shuddering and rippling with the force of his orgasm.
Valentino held him through it, whispering praise and endearments, his hands never stopping their gentle caresses. When Vox finally came down, his screen displaying exhausted contentment, Valentino pulled him close, arranging them so Vox's head rested on his chest.
"You're amazing," Valentino murmured, pressing kisses to Vox's screen. "Absolutely fucking amazing."
Vox's response was a tired but happy hum, his systems slowly cooling down. Valentino reached for the chocolates one more time, feeding Vox slowly, making each one a small celebration of what they'd just shared.
"I love you," Vox said again, the words coming easier now.
"I love you too," Valentino replied, meaning it with every fiber of his being. "Every single part of you."