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Chapter Text

Diluc woke.

The room he was in was very nice. Blue walls with green hangings and trim- not his colors, but the fabric and wallpaper were clearly expensive. There was a large table, and a truly massive four-poster bed, with green and blue  sheets that matched the rest of the room.

There were, however, no windows. Currently, the light came from a lamp on the wall. There were others around the room, but none were on, leaving the room feeling a bit depressing.

He tried to move, and suddenly felt a spark of fear when he realized the was tied to the chair. On his wrists were strong leather cuffs; the same on his ankles; and keeping him against the back of the chair was a strap of some sort.

He pulled at the restraints. No luck-they were well made and tight. The chair was also bolted to the ground, incongruous with the rich decoration around him. All his weapons were gone, and he saw none in the room.

Finally, he stopped trying to get out of the restraints. It was clear he couldn’t at the moment, so there was no point in continuing. Better to save his strength.

He  continued to look around at the room. There was a painting of an apple orchard on the wall in front of him. It was a canvas-there were nails in it, right? if he could reach it, that could be handy.

Wait- he was still in his regular clothes, including his coat. He had sewn a file, lockpick, and razorblade into it- now if only he could reach them-

He was halfway through getting the lockpick out of its secret pocket when the one narrow door opened and he had to hurriedly hide it.

“Hello!” The cheery voice bothered Diluc. He disliked annoyingly cheerful people on principle but this voice seemed made to aggravate him. The owner of it stepped into the room- a lanky man with orange hair and dull blue eyes, gray outfit with the symbol of the Fatui-

The Fatui.

So that’s where he was. He steeled himself for torture. He doubted they’d let a chance to rip apart their biggest enemy go to waste. He would not be giving them any kind of information.

The man walked over to stand in front of Diluc- too close. “Hi, I’m Chi-aah!” He jumped away, narrowly avoiding as Diluc lunged forward to try and bite him.

“Hmm. Feisty.” The man laughed. He flicked his fingers, and a stream of water flowed to him and held his jaw closed.

He stepped closer, lifting Diluc’s chin in his stupid-looking half gloves. “Let’s try again. I’m Childe-“ he pointed at himself-“and you are the Bane of the Fatui.” He grinned.

He stepped away and lifted the water away from Diluc’s mouth.

“You aren’t getting any information from me! Fatui scum.”

“Good. I don’t want information.”

So it was just torture, then. He set his shoulders.

“It’s not torture, either.”

Then what. . . . .

“You’ll see.” The grin only grew more unhinged, and then Diluc jerked as water forced its way down his throat. A constant, unending stream of water. . . .

“You can breathe, you know.

Diluc gasped involuntarily, then found that he could breathe. He felt a chill - in order to keep water out of his lungs, and only going down his throat, Childe’s control over his hydro vision must be extremely precise.

The water kept coming, and coming, until Diluc felt uncomfortably full. And then it continued. His stomach stretched, feeling fit to burst- and then Childe finally stopped.

Diluc just closed his mouth in relief. His stomach throbbed and he concentrated on trying not to puke up the liquid. Childe stepped closer to him and he tried to turn lunge after him, but felt slow and sluggish. . . and sleepy. That wasn’t good. . . .

Childe unbuttoned his shirt , opening it. He touched Diluc’s sore, stretched tummy and Diluc couldnt seem to hold back a whimper. It was sensitive-

“Damn. Not as much as I hoped. . . . “ Diluc managed to look down and saw his stomach, only somewhat convex despite feeling like we was about to burst.

“You have a smaller stomach capacity than I thought. Makes some sense- you’re the type to overwork yourself and not eat, and it’s not like you’ve had opportunity lately. We’ll have to fix that.” Childe winked at Diluc, then left the room, leaving Diluc alone with his thoughts. . . . and his stomach.

Chapter Text

Diluc woke up feeling groggy and hungry.

Nothing seemed to have changed in the room.  He wondered how they meant to feed him. By hand? Or would they just let him starve? Somehow, he thought the Fatui would want a bloodier death for him.

Childe came into the room, followed by a delicious aroma. Diluc’s stomach growled. He glared at it. Traitor.

Childe laughed, then reached behind him to pull in a cart covered in dishes. Most seemed to be Snezhnayan, but he recognized several Monstadt dishes, even some from Liyue.

“Want some?”

Diluc transferred his glare to the man. “I want to be let out of here.”

“Soon, you won’t. . .” Childe took one of the plates, a Sweet Madame, and got some of it on a fork. “Open up!”

“I will never-“

Threads of water wrapped around his face, keeping his mouth open, and Childe popped the chicken in. Then, the water kept his mouth closed until he swallowed it.

It was good chicken. and he was  hungry. Very hungry. . .

“Oh, and it’s not poisoned. See?” Childe took a bite himself.

Diluc didn’t say anything, but his eyes were following the plate.

If I don’t eat, it will be harder to escape. . . . . 

“Alright.” He opened his mouth. It did feel- well, a little embarrassing to be fed by hand, but he didn’t seem to have a choice in the matter. 

Childe put a bite in. Diluc chewed, and swallowed. Again and again. Finally, he tried to say he was full-and Childe shoved another bite in.

He tried again. Childe shoved an even bigger bite in before he could say anything. He saw the smile on Childe’s face and, with a sinking feeling, he realized he wouldn’t be done until he was stuffed and in pain, just like yesterday.

His shirt, already cut to fit perfectly, was feeling a bit uncomfortable around his middle. He could feel it get tighter, as his belly expanded, containing all the food being forced into it. Bite after bite after bite, until Diluc was nearly in tears from the sensation, until Childe finally said,

“Alright. . . . that’s enough for the main course.”

The main course? Childe laughed at the look of panic in his eyes.

“You need dessert, of course! But first, i’ve got a special drink for you.”

He reached behind him and pulled out a regular-looking glass of water, then poured a small amount of  powder in, then another packet that was larger. The result was a sickly purple bubbling concoction that made Diluc queasy just looking at it. . . not that that was hard, with how stuffed he was.

“Not poison.” Childe took a sip. “One is a regular appetite stimulant - the other is something special made for Fatui in the field. It helps process your food more efficiently, so you get ALL of the nutrients in it. No waste left over. Convenient when you’re low on food.” He watched one of the purple bubbles pop. “Doesn’t look that appetizing with the appetite stimulant. . . . but trust me, it tastes great. Now. . . are you gonna drink this yourself with no fuss like a good boy or am I going to have to force it down?” The glint in his eyes was disappointed when Diluc opened his mouth himself.

He felt the concoction pour in, the texture something like a milkshake, filling all the cracks and crevices left in his overstuffed stomach. It. . . wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, and Childe was right-the taste was something light and sweet, despite the texture. He was almost disappointed when the last of it had been poured in.

He felt a bit woozy. Trying to digest all of this was making him tired, and he wished he could sleep. He wondered if this was a sedative in the drink too, but Childe said no. It didnt feel like he’d been drugged, either, just tired.

“Tired? We’ll take a break.” Childe once again opened his shirt, putting a hand on Diluc’s stomach and rubbing. Diluc tried to fight it, but the room was warm, his belly was full, his stomach pains were gone, someone was gently rubbing his stomach . . . . it was extremely hard to pry his eyes open to try and glare weakly at Childe.

A warm feeling bloomed in his stomach that he had never felt before. It seemed to spread to all parts of him, before dissipating slowly and leaving him still floating on the feeling. Childe was still rubbing his stomach, but he didn’t feel stretched anymore. . . . and felt hungry again.

“Ready for dessert?”

As an answer, Diluc opened his mouth.

Chapter Text

 Diluc shouldn’t like this. He couldn’t. He had to escape, and. . . and. . . . he couldn’t quite remember what he had to do. He did remember that he was exhausted and cold and hungry before, and he was warm and fed and satisfied now. Did he really want to return to that?

Yes, said a voice. It was weak and not very convincing.

But what about-

What about what?

What about- what about your brother! The winery! Monstadt!

With a jolt of clarity, Diluc remembered. His father, dead- Kaeya, that night in the rain, the grief and betrayal-

He was here for revenge. He had to escape.

But Diluc had been here for several weeks now, and the results were showing on his frame. His full stomach bulged out of the shirt, having already broken several buttons over the crest of his midsection, and the rest were straining over his soft, growing pecs. The coat, much less flexible, was just taken the other day when it was too tight over his arms. No lockpick, file, or razorblade- he yanked on his cuffs, sending his fat jigging.

Fuck, that felt good.

No, no- he had to escape-

Twisting in the chair he rubbed his dick against his swelling thighs. They were encased in his pants, straining the seams and crowding his dick. His stomach occasionly bounced low enough to rub too. It had been so long-

He succeeded only in getting himself half hard and extremely frustrated. There just wasn’t enough wiggle room to, well- wiggle.

Diluc groaned. Pathetic. He should be escaping, and here he was desperately rutting against his own fat. But he was tired. . . . so, so tired. And it felt so good to be stuffed to the brim.

“Did I hear something, piggy?” Childe poked his head into the room. He  glared.

“Oh. . . . I see. You can’t reach. . .” Childe fully entered the room, and Diluc was even more aware of his bulging stomach and straining thighs, seeing Childe’s lanky form. Would he even be able to escape, like this? Bursting at the seams?

Childe reached for him, and he leaned back as much as he could.

“Oh, come on. No reason to suffer alone when I could help you.”

“You’re just going to do what you want anyway,” Diluc growled.

“No, I won’t.” Childe’s eyes narrowed, annoyed.  “I was ordered to take you out of commission. This is how I chose to do it. Not in fighting form anymore, hmm?”

He poked his round stomach, watching it ripple.

“But I don’t grope if it’s unwanted.” He grabbed at one of his tits, watching Diluc’s face turn red and hold back a whine. “And it certainly looks wanted.”

“Nghh. . .” Fuck. He wanted to be touched so badly.

“Sooo. . . What’s it going to be?” A sharp tug on his nipples sent Diluc gasping.

“Please. . . “ In the back of his mind, he heard a voice talking about responsibility, grief, escape; but it was so hard to focus on it.

“Hmm?”

“Please touch me.” Diluc whispered.

Childe grinned.

He rubbed Diluc’s belly slowly, feeling the curve of it, the deep indent of his bellybutton, his love handles at the side. Another hand traced his softening jawline.

The one on his stomach reached below it, lifting his stomach from his lap, feeling the weight of it. Then he let it drop back down.

Childe did it again, and again, until he was left panting and nearly in tears.

Childe’s hand left him, only to feel it again, under his stomach at his pants button. He felt a release of some of the pressure around his stomach. . . and Childe’s hand around his dick. Finally.

He bucked into it as much as he could. So close, so close-

He came with a gasp, stomach thrust outwards, spilling into Childe’s hands.

Chapter Text

Without the clarity he previously had to ground him, the days passed in a blur.

Every day Childe came to him, sometimes stretching his stomach with water first, sometimes just getting right to it, stuffing him until he could barely keep his eyes open.

The sensations were so good Diluc never felt bored, sinking into the warm, comforting feeling of a full stomach all the time. It helped him sleep, and he was tired. Tired from exhaustion at first, but then. . . . . Tired of his relentless search. Tired of starving and scraping and fighting. He welcomed the respite, despite the remaining misgivings in his head.

He could feel himself grow. Past what size he had been before. The cuffs on his limbs were tight enough to prevent escape, but now they seemed to be too tight, too restricting. Childe had adjusted them, but he needed to do it again.

His clothing- long since ruined, and he was long past caring that they were ruined. His shirt had one button-one single button-still holding on, right under his neck; even that was straining as the flesh of his chins bulged outward. The coat had stopped fitting a while ago; the sleeves of the shirt were stretchier, but still wrapped his arms so tightly they could have been mistaken for sausage, his pale skin peeping out through the rips.

His pants- they still hung on around his legs by threads, the seams mostly ripped, fat bulging obscenely from the openings. His monstrous ass was only partially covered, and the sides of the chair dug into him almost painfully. He was certain that if he stood up he’d take the chair with him if it wasn’t bolted- wait, could he even stand up now? He thought of himself, redfaced and panting, unable to even stand up from a chair, he was so fucking fat.

The idea sent a jolt to his dick, unreachable by him, and he let out a moan, hoping Childe would hear. If Childe felt like it, he’d jack him off; if he was feeling particularly sadistic, he’d just play with his tits and jiggle his stomach until Diluc was panting with want, then leave him to try and get whatever friction he could with his hands tied and dick hidden under a mountain of fat.

His stomach- warm, large, a comforting weight on his legs. It reached nearly to his knees when sitting, bellybutton a deep hole that Childe loved fucking. Childe would balance trays on it while feeding him, flat and large enough there was room for several plates. He wished he could touch it, feel it; the massive orb that weighed him down, that Childe was so proud of, that had grown and expanded and was spilling over his arms.

He wanted Childe. Needed Childe. If not to give attention to his dick, then for food to round him out even further and cause that warm feeling and make Childe rub his stomach again.

He moaned again, as loud and obscene as he could, shifting for even a slight bit of friction against his swelling cock.

Childe came in the door. Finally. He looked at him eagerly- no food, so a handjob? Childe seemed to anticipate him. “Neither, actually. You’ve outgrown the chair.” He held up a keyring.

He blinked. Where was he going to sit now?

“Now, we’re moving you onto the bed.” Childe moved to unlock the handcuffs. He immediately went to touch his stomach, round and heavy on his lap. His hand sunk in by several inches, and he sighed in satisfaction.

“You enjoying yourself?” Childe’s voice was joined by two more hands on his stomach, rubbing the top and grabbing his tits.

“Alright. Time to get up.” Childe moved behind him, putting his arm over his shoulder and attempting to pull him out of the chair.

He was stuck.

Childe sucked in a breath. Fuck, that’s hot. He turned around, then reached for Diluc’s underbelly, lifting the mass of fat out from the arms of the chair. Diluc whined and tried to reach for his dick; his chubby arms kept him from reaching, even without his giant belly in the way.

It helped, but not enough. Diluc’s ass and thighs were still bulging outwards from the sides of the chair. Childe may have miscalculated just how bottom heavy Diluc would become. . . . .

This would take some time.

Childe kneeled and reached towards his thighs, squishing them closer to make more room. Diluc was trying to keep his belly out of the way, but it spilled out of his hands, smacking Childe in the face and he surprised even himself with a moan.

Not now.

As difficult as it was, Childe got back to the problem. Bit by bit, he pulled Diluc’s ass from the confines of the chair. By the end of it, Diluc was red and panting and very close to coming, and Childe was trying to not fuck him right then and there.

Putting Diluc’s arm over his shoulder, he tried to stand up again. Slowly, he lifted Diluc’s wobbling mass to a standing position. Diluc himself was struggling to stay standing. Months of zero exercise and constant stuffing meant very atrophied muscles barely capable of holding him upright.

Childe took the brunt of the weight as they slowly made it to the bed. Diluc lay down, and Childe watched the giant mound of his stomach ripple as he made himself comfortable.

Head resting on a few pillows, peering over the swells of his blubbery tits, Diluc looked at Childe pleadingly. “Food?”

The cart- well, carts by now- were just outside, and Childe wasted no time in bringing them in.

“Childe. . . “ Diluc whimpered.

“Yes, piggy?”

“Fuck me. Please.”

“While you’re eating?” Diluc nodded. His chins nodded with him.

No more encouragement was needed. Childe was already hard as a rock from groping his fat to get him out of the chair, and so was Diluc.

Pulling the ripped pants off of Diluc he started with spreading his legs, grabbing the soft fat of his thighs lovingly. Lube was always kept nearby; one finger was inserted, then two, then three, and finally Childe slipped his aching dick inside Diluc’s fat ass.

The motion shook a massive burp out of Diluc, making room for even more. Grease and crumbs gathered around his mouth, but he didn’t have time to wipe them off; he needed to be as full as possible as quickly as possible, to feel his stomach stretching to its limits and his skin taut with food.

Childe fucked him slowly, at first; he liked to watch his stomach jiggle and his boobs wobbling between his belly and chins. Diluc grunted, rubbing his stomach to soothe it while shoving yet another pie into his mouth.

Childe went faster; remembering Diluc at the start, angry and tired and thin, and him now, fat and happy and taking up so much of the bed, plump ass and massive thighs, stuffing his face with glee-

Childe came, arching his back as he filled Diluc’s ass, leaving him stuffed at both ends. He gripped the thighs to stay upright; stars flew through his vision and he groaned with pleasure. Diluc was also moaning, hands rubbing both sides of his taut upper belly as his own cum painted the soft underside.

Childe released his grip on the plump thighs, noticing with chagrin and a small amount of pride that it would probably leave a bruise. He stayed inside him for a second, waiting until his legs weren’t unsteady. He pulled out slowly, but Diluc still whined when he didn’t feel Childe’s cock filling him anymore.

“Don’t complain. You still have more to eat.” He wiped Diluc’s mouth and chins, then started feeding him with one hand, the other rubbing slow circles around Diluc’s deep bellybutton.

Diluc was content. No more strain or stress to think about, there was only getting stuffed until he couldn’t move and getting fucked until he couldn’t think. He shifted his massive weight on the bed he would never leave again, feeling the comforting strain on his ever-growing stomach.

He smiled, and ate another bite.