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alittleghostwhoeatsbread · 5 months

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Eggy-Preg

Michael got back well after Terry had gone to bed- so late the sky was caught in a state of embarrassed indecision, holding the pinkish purple colour of a pigeon’s breast across its expanse like a blush to the cheeks- and, after hanging up his clothes and stretching, followed suit, falling straight into bed himself with the same form he’d had since the age of twenty-two, which was the tall and tubular one of a cardio-centric green bean. The following day, waking up around two in the afternoon as wet with sweat as a horse in lather, upon his first attempt at sitting up, he found to his surprise that he couldn’t with his usual ease because his usual form had been replaced by one with a belly as bloated as a hot air balloon filled with too much fire and at the point of popping, the pain of it when attempting to bend like a fire had been lit inside him too.

He could hear Terry in the kitchen humming to himself, the tuneless buzzing of a bumblepheliac drawing a colony to him for the purpose of honey themed sex, signifying that he hadn’t noticed upon waking the extended belly of Michael, this signification being made more apparent when, after getting up from the bed as gently and painlessly as he could, each lurch making him feel off balance, as if he could fall onto his lump at any moment, Michael walked into the kitchen and revealed it to him, the humming immediately becoming the strangled half-whistle of a mockingbird being throttled, Terry immediately running over and clasping the lump of his belly in his hands, lifting it slightly as he did and causing an unconscious moan of relief to come from Michael's mouth.

“Michael, what the hell is this? You look pregnant.”

“Don't be stupid. Pregnant. I’m just swollen. But it hurts.”

Terry lifted the extended pyjama shirt of Michael and gazed at the belly that when exposed had the look of a particularly angry acne spot on the verge of doing a Vesuvius, little purple lines running down the sides of it like static images of lightning minimised, his face when gazing the face of an astronaut after getting completely and utterly untethered in the depths of space, his mouth coiling like a snake waiting to strike while, hit by a sudden wave of emotion, his eyes becoming as wet as they would if waves of emotion were actually waves on the ocean, Michael started weeping and wailing of his pain.

The nearest hospital was tiled on the outside, the white and grey combination of new and old false teeth all jumbled up together, and they had to wait in a waiting room made up of stray church hall chairs surrounded by people with a variety of wacky ailments- fake udders superglued to chests, eye balls being held, nails and forks stuck through or into various body parts, etcetera- for a long ol’ time before finally being called in by a small doctor whose nametag said Stephanie. Stephanie was around 5 foot tall, but her white coat trailed on the ground as if it’d been stolen from a much taller doctor by two children who’d decided to play hospital and stacked themselves on top of each other beneath its buttoned up buttons, her face not suggesting otherwise, having the appearance of a ruddy and privately educated twelve tear old on the verge of divorcing their nanny.

She led the two, Michael, whose new weight made him shuffle like a mummy adrift without bandages, trying to lean on Terry but getting nowhere because Terry was too busy patting his own belly to make sure it hadn’t grown, into a small office made of cloth partitions rather than walls and containing just a dusty chest of drawers, a bed, and two rose red chairs that had the scent of many an ass hovering above them and exuding.

“What seems to be the problem?” she asked after waving Michael to sit on the side of the bed, as blank faced as a plate until that plate met a Greek wedding and broke. “I'm joking! You're clearly pregnant. What a surprise that is. You're male, biologically, am I right?... Just as I suspected. One doesn't like to assume such things though. Now, how long has your stomach been like this?”

“Since this morning. I woke up and it was like this, swollen, large. I was fine yesterday. I went for a run, drank a bottle of wine out with colleagues. I was everything but pregnant.”

“He can’t be pregnant,” Terry interrupted with a stamp of the foot. “I mean, where the hell is a baby going to come out of?”

Holding up a medically trained finger, Stephanie gestured for Terry to shut up and help her help Michael, who began sweating excessively again from a hot flush while desperately rubbing his stomach like it was a lamp a genie had recently vacated, off the edge of and onto the centre of the bed, their hands collectively laying him back but only Stephanie’s remaining to fondle and caress the extended belly. She did this fondlement for a while, feeling the skin of the belly in different areas as if trying to find the exact spot she wanted, until, with an, ‘aha!’, cry, she picked up her scalpel and a nearby syringe- already loaded with a sky blue liquid- and, without word or question of permission, injected Michael with it, him falling deeper into the bed and pulling the face of no pain, and her immediately setting about slicing straight down the centre of his stomach with the scalpel.

“Hey!” Terry screamed, reaching for the doctor and the scalpel before being stopped in his tracks by the appearance of not guts and giblets, but a bloody but otherwise very white and large egg- the size really of a bigger than average newborn- which lay in the split skin folds with the innocence eggs always have.

Even though feeling no pain, Michael felt a little something else at the moment of release, a groan of relief bigger than any groan he'd ever groaned before emanating from him and stretching around like elastic as the skin that'd been containing the egg receded back to its normal place, sewing itself back together as if nothing had happened.

“I knew it!” Stephanie whooped. “There are only a few male based pregnancies known and this, an eggy-preg as we called it off the cuff in medical school, is the rarest. There we have it. Your egg.”

“What’s in the egg?” Michael slurred, Terry shouting the same simultaneously.

“In there? What is? Oh, just something. You'll see. Maybe,” with this, she span and gathered a pamphlet that was strung to the chest of drawers with oddly thick cobwebs, blowing dust from it that flew off in a cartoonish grey cloud and floated several metres through the air before gathering like a rain cloud over Terry’s face until he dissipated it with a wave of the hands; the pamphlet was a perfect square rather than the usual rectangle with a green background and a single image as the foreground of an eggshell white egg with one long lightning shaped crack running down its front, the side of a yellow smiley face sticking out that crack like a slowly emerging, oddly coloured- not to mention shaped- piece of caca. “Read this. It’ll explain everything I can tell you and more.”

With that, Stephanie, with a doctorly flick of the hair, vanished, moving between the curtain partitions separating offices with the ease of a ghost lacking a sheet, losing them, and possibly herself, easily, the them, Michael-the-still-groaning-in-relief and Terry-the-what-the-hell-is-going-on, looking around as if they could find her again and also possibly a way to escape the cage of worry that’d been constructed around themselves. After ten minutes of them looking in a circle without a word, an orderly, who spied them through a crack in the partition, waved a hand at them and, rather forcibly considering the egg in their possession, removed them from the hospital, the egg lying in Michael’s arms as they left but never kept still, being jostled back and forth for comfort purposes as it’d begun growing at a steady pace since its removal from the belly. The egg was the size of a medium sized dog by the time they began their short walk home, though much lighter, and Michael held had to hold it sideways, hands clutching top and bottom, the curve of it blocking most of his forward vision and forcing him to trust Terry, who kept looking at the egg and shaking his head with sighs of annoyance, to direct him in the right direction.

“We’re going to be parents, Terry,” Michael said after a while, the happiness growing in his recently vacated stomach coming out in his voice, making it breathy and wispy as if attempting to vocally impersonate a feather duster. “Parents!”

“Parents. Parents,” Terry repeated every few steps, his face the face of someone doing their best not to impersonate an egg cracker but failing miserably.

Their house had a living room and that living room was large and oval with a slight dip right in the centre of it where a below foundation sink hole the council didn’t want to fix had pulled the pine flooring down from beneath, the egg, which Michael placed to the floor as gently as you would imagine a swan plants their keister on their own eggs, fitting in that slight dip with the perfection of a penis/testicle set in a groin protection cup of a regulation cricketer. Standing back and sitting heavily on the settee, Michael- while Terry ventured to the kitchen with clenched fists – watched the egg continue to expand and began to read the pamphlet, which had only two pages covered in bold text.

YOUR EGG AND YOU: a guide

Page 1 (Introduction): Congratulations, it looks like it’s happened, you’re a proud parent of what at the moment is still just an egg. Am I right to guess you’re worried? That you have no familial attachment to this thing that sprouted in your belly overnight and was then cut from you/emerged naturally from your behind/ vagina?

Here Michael shook his head at the pamphlet and clutched his heart, which had become swollen and choked with love and familial attachment as he walked with his egg home.

Well, you will do, and soon! Your egg produces a pheromone that will make you and your partner (If you have one, eggs can just as easily be made from masturbation alone) fall slowly but deeply into parental love for it. Isn’t that neat? Now I’m going to guess something else. I’m going to guess that you’re probably also scared. Scared that you won’t be up to scratch or that you’ll do something wrong. But I’m a pamphlet, a trustworthy one at that, and I’m here to reassure you and tell you that it’s all going to be okay. Looking after your egg until it hatches will be as easy as pie. Once you’ve laid, or had your egg removed (a recommended method painwise regardless of gender), and taken it home, settle it somewhere comfortable and warm and wait for it reach approximately twice the height of the hatcher. Before it’s the right height, your egg will simply not respond to the following steps.

Page 2 (Steps):

Step 1: Once your egg is precisely twice the height at the hatcher, wait until the sun goes down. And I mean down! Then wrap a blanket- checkered preferably- around its body. Sit next to it and do the same to your own.

Step 2: Begin to tell your egg a story, any story will do. Existing or made up, make up your own mind! Eventually, provided you tell it right, your egg’s shell will begin to glow with a golden light from within. At this point, continuing to talk, remove the blanket.

Step 3: Once your blanket is removed and your egg glowing, you should be able to see the form growing within it. At this point the form should be the same size as you and floating in or around the centre of the egg. Still telling your story, you should begin rubbing the egg with the palm of your hand until the sun comes up.

Step 4: Continue this process night after night after night until your egg hatches!

Disclaimer: The Eggy-Preg Information (EPI) company is NOT responsible for the time frame in which your egg hatches. Nor any deformations, grotesque natures, or personal growths that may happen to you, the egg, or what comes from it. The information provided is for general informational purposes only. All information is provided in good faith; however, we make no representation or warranty of any kind, express or implied, regarding the accuracy, adequacy, validity, reliability, availability, or completeness of any information.

With no pause for consideration, the pamphlet going flying from the hand of Michael and to some dark corner of the room, the mouth of Michael screamed hoarsely, “Terry, tape measure, blankets, checkered, now, get them, two! The pamphlet said.”

Terry, who’d been watching Michael’s reading from the door of the kitchen, a bottle of wine already half drunk in hand and a head filled with thoughts and wonderings about just why exactly he felt so angry and disgusted by the sight of the egg and, by extension, Michael, who before the egg had appeared, he’d loved more than anything and had only felt unconditional feelings for- such as lust and calmness- put his wine bottle down with theatrical slowness once the scream came his way and got the blankets and measure, tossing them at Michael before picking the bottle back up. Not noticing anything wrong with Terry, Not seeing the grinding of the teeth of Terry, the pulsing veins of Terry, barely noticing Terry at all, Michael immediately measured himself- five foot five exactly- and then measured the egg, the expansion of it having seemingly stopped during his reading, with the aid of a nearby armchair which he stood on - exactly 11 feet. Giggling with the glee of a giant baby coming upon a giant mobile in a giant desert, Michael wrapped the larger checkered blanket tight around the bottom half of the eggs width, noting as he did the thick feeling of its shell and the new warmth emanating from it which was akin not to a wide spread fire but the concentrated flame of a match stick, so cosy but intense that when he wrapped his own blanket around his body and huddled close, sweat immediately beaded on his forehead, chest, and groin, and gave himself the feeling of being tucked back in the womb.

“What are you doing? Why did you need them?” Terry finally asked, a two percent fraction of his rage dimming, being replaced by a single percentage of curiosity, a half percent of exclusion, and a final half percent of exclusion induced sadness, the exclusion ad sadness aspects infuriating him so much immediately that they also increased his rage, making his feelings go above 100 percent if you can believe it.

“I have to read it a story now is what the pamphlet says. Now shush, come and sit with us if you’re curious. Try and bond with eggy.”

“I don’t want to bond with any eggy,” Terry muttered around the rim of his wine bottle while going to sit on the settee regardless. “What are you going to tell it.”

“I don’t think it matters. Just something. I’ll make something up.”

Settling, rubbing his behind on the floor like a bear scratching up against a tree, coughing to clear his throat, Michael gazed directly at the egg, sitting so close his vision was a sea of white so white it resembled the teeth in the prize selection part of the tooth fairy’s tooth collection, and began to speak.

“There was a time when floorboards weren’t just floorboards. When floorboards weren’t just dead planks of wood. When floorboards were… ALIVE! Living breathing planks that had eyes, three of them, and large mouths with even larger tongues. Red or purple tongues that spilled out across their bodies moistly and made it so every footstep on them had the sound of a wet sponge being wrung. Humans lived peacefully with the floorboards. We coexisted. They gave us flooring for our houses and in return we cared for them. Rubbed linseed oil on them, sanded them so they didn’t get splintered, and fed their tongues water every day so they didn’t dry out. It was a perfect arrangement… until it wasn’t! Until the time came when a floorboard appeared that wasn’t the same as the other floorboards. When a floorboard appeared that was strange.”

Here the egg began to glow with the golden light the pamphlet had promised- a blinding light that radiated outwards and got weaker the further it stretched from the egg, like a candle a child was supposed to follow but that moved much faster than their little legs could do- a glow that made Michael squeal before remembering he wasn’t supposed to stop speaking, and a glow that had Terry throw his hands up at the ridiculousness of the entire situation with the result of the top of his head getting splattered with grape blood.

“Ummm, yes, strange! A strange floorboard appeared,” Michael continued, beginning the unwinding of the blanket from around the egg with the gentle movements of someone who’d abandoned childhood emotions unwrapping a surprise gift, revealing the form within before it was fully unwrapped, Michael swiftly tearing the rest of the blanket off as those childhood feelings came roaring back with no memory of abandonment.

The form exposed was a shadowy outlineish thing that looked as if sketched with charcoal floating in the centre of the egg, bobbing slightly up and down and vaguely resembling a giant featherless chicken from waist down, with thin bony legs that ended in three large claw tipped toes, and from the waist up looking more like a standard human with the exception being similar claws at the ends of its fingers and an elephantal shape of the head, a giant trunkish thing stretching out past its chin.

“What the fuck,” Terry spat into his lap while Michael began step 3, rubbing the egg gently with the palm of his hand. “That’s not like us. What is that. It’s disgusting.”

“-unlike the other floorboards with hair covering it and teeth in its mouth too. Sharp teeth, fangs really,” Michael turned and glared at Terry, shushing him with his spare hand. “People suggested that the reason for this floorboard’s odd appearance was the result of it being born rather than made, the result of an inter-species relationship between human and board. This suggested hybrid wasn’t peaceful like the other floorboards. It didn’t want to work with humans. It was angry. Aggressive. It bit feet when they stepped on it and each foot bit made it grow larger. Made it grow different features. Like arms and legs. Like more hair. With these features there was no stopping it from rising from the floor and becoming a moveableboard, one that proceeded, for no reason at all, to start killing humans but not floorboards. How did the humans know it was this moveableboard doing the killing, I bet you’re wondering? Well, I’ll tell you. It left calling cards so that there would be no confusion. Bits of its hair, teeth marks, written notes saying, ‘It was meeeeee, the moveableboard!’ and ‘I hate humans. Boards unite!’. It didn’t take long before the human race decided that they had to do something about this and do something about it fast.”

With the story continuing, Terry, wanting no part in what he was witnessing, not even a small observer one, after standing up with his mouth agape, backed out of the room with unconscious dump truck reversal noises stumbling out of his mouth like drops of dripping water, hands no longer clenching but agape also and wiggling as if signing him off a stage.

“-the hero who’d been chosen, that young bald girl, clutched the plastic spear she’d been given with both hands. She knew that killing the moveableboard would kill all the floorboards too but having lost everything in her journey to reach the spot the moveable board lay sleeping in, she didn’t hesitate. She brought it down. Hitting the sleeping moveableboard right in the middle. Piercing the hair covering the wood and then the wood itself. Splintering the bits that resisted. Sending its acquired arms and legs wild and drying the wet wet eyes of it. Killing not just it, but all floor objects forever. Making them all as they are now, inanimate.”

The glow of the egg faded when the story finished with the finality of a baby’s eyes closing and Michael, tiptoeing like a ballerina on the verge of being kicked out of the most famed ballet school around if she doesn’t find the strength in her heart to stay on en pointe for longer than forty eight hours, crept from the room with a tired but contented sigh.

The night was filled with the peaceful snores of Michael- who’d kissed the air in the general direction of Terry’s cheek before undressing and going straight to sleep without a glance at or a word direct toward the open mouthed horror held upon, and within, his face- and with the hurried packing sounds of Terry doing just that, tossing all and whatever he could find in the dark into a bag. Followed by the sounds of fleeing, of running away, the front door shutting, the cat flap that’d never been used except for the one time Michael had, for a joke, attempted to crawl through it and gotten stuck, flapping once as the would be father disappear around a bend. Michael dreamt strange dreams whilst this fleeing was taking place, as if he was being gifted new stories to tell, strange dreams of bright colours and moving kitchen appliances that wanted to remove the skin off him and replace it with puff pastry, and when he woke up, early in the morning before the sun had risen but after the moon had vanished, he was cold but had no urge to turn and rub Terry for warmth for he somehow knew without really thinking about it that he was gone, instead he just went to the living room to embrace the egg.

Claiming maternity leave from his work was easy- he simply emailed and sent them a photo of him and his egg in an embrace and they sent back a thumbs up and two heart emojis with a detailed description of his new pay schedule- and the following free from outside obligations days and weeks past in the parental bliss of him sitting before the egg all day every day, thinking up stories for the night, rubbing its shell like it was a mackerel and he a mackerel enthusiast, and staring blank eyed out the window, waiting for the sun do its thing. The need for food or drink had seemingly left him, instead he got his nourishment from the tales he told in the same manner the egg seemed to, the form within the shell, when the golden glow revealed it, growing outwards with each passing day and each passing story until it reached the sides of the egg and then beginning its growing decent downwards towards the base.

The stories flowed from Michael like ripe grapes budding on the vine, being plucked off and dropped onto grassy floors to bounce into the mouths of babes, hitting the ground running and taking with them narratives including flower buds, embers from fires, elephant whispers, karate chop calls, frozen dormice, on fire post officers, little girls with no ears, little girls with too many ears, cassette tapes, sausage rolls, mushrooms with tentacles, potatoes being boiled and mashed and stuck in a stew, afro wearing unicorns, dogs smoking weed, cats injecting heroin, the queen of Arabia doing the fandango, happy endings, no endings, sad endings, bad endings, wicked plants, the stabbing pain of being stabbed, and a centaur being milked. After a while, the form in the egg began to respond to the stories, audibly as well as visually that is, going further than what the pamphlet had said it would do when it said it would simply glow, making a high pitched whining sound when it glowed and growed that was a cross between an electronic buzz and a dog whining for food. The sound, which began small at first, so that for a while Michael thought it was nothing but wind squeezing its way, like a leg into trousers much too small for them or a condom over a hand, through a gap in a window, got louder and changed from night to night, keeping the same base sound but adding buzzes or meeps or beeps depending on what story was being told, and would have been incomprehensible if it hadn’t been for Michael’s acute maternal instincts which swiftly picked up a pattern within them. Sometimes when telling a story, he would slip one of the sounds he’d heard the egg make into it as if it had always meant to be there, like a piece of pie slotting itself back into the whole, and enjoy the way the egg would sort of shake in response, rocking on its base without fear of falling, which Michael noted as a good thing, ‘It’ll be brave!’, went his thoughts, ‘God, I’m proud.’

The form in the egg stopped growing just before its feet touched the bottom of the shell and there wasn’t enough room for it at all, it didn’t matter that the stories kept coming or that the rubbing didn’t stop, it stayed just as it was, still eating the tales, still making its noises as it heard them- the sounds growing louder even, resounding as they echoed and bounced off the surface of the shell and then the surface of its body- but hearing them, digesting them, as if no longer hungry at all. Michael, as peaceful in heart as an anteater face to face with all the ants it could eat anteater style, didn’t worry and continued to spin his tales, weaving a thread through each night, throwing in more and more of the eggs own noises from his own mouth and just trying to enjoy the extra time he got to spend with the child when it was still just an egg, the nourishment of tales he was receiving from what he gave out giving his skin a shiny milky glow, like a recently waxed surface.

While this was all happening, though not right at any specific moment and rather just in a similar time frame, Terry was sitting on a plastic bench eating a carton of scrambled eggs in front of a petrol station advertising advent calendars in June and beginning to weep, his left hand stretching out towards the empty space to the left of him as if there was someone there to hold it and comfort him, scrambling with it, hitting nothing but net over and over until it finally promoted him to toss the scrambled egg in the manner of a cricketing bowler-hat, where it landed on concrete with the hiss and splatter of whitish lava. Terry had been alone since he’d left Michael and the egg, spending his days, and then weeks, on various benches and in public toilets masturbating over the thought of Michael’s personality before he’d held the egg inside and hating the egg violently for appearing, for getting in the way of things, for being around,, for not having something inside it that looked normal, until the point when the egg flashed through his mind during the climax of one of his masturbation sessions and that hate became for himself. It was that moment of self-hatred that brought Terry to buy scrambled eggs to eat, but it was the pangs of it, like the pangs the sight of a premature rose would prick a fully bloomed rose with, that also made him decide to go back home, deciding that if eating eggs in spite of his hatred for the egg waiting for him at home was enough to bring him to tears then perhaps he could be a parent to whatever the hell kind of creature that was growing in it and, maybe, if he told Michael about his tears and how they’d flowed- probably leaving the part where he’d had to eat egg to find it out- he would forgive him for leaving too.

It took Terry over two days to get home, not because he’d travelled very far at all, having not even left the city, just taking the local bus routes as far they would take him before removing him, but because he was a coward and despite his resolution, he was still afraid that the music he assumed he was bound to face would send its most jagged notes forward to strike his face. When he finally did arrive back, the bus squeaking to a stop at the stop just outside the premises, him- having been poised by the door- flying out as if ejected by the force of its brakeage and snake-strike door opening speed, he stood on the doorstep in the dark for over an hour with a shivering of the lip and a quivering of the leg, staring at the curtained window to the left of the door that would have looked through into the living room if the curtains making it curtained hadn’t been curtained shut. He couldn’t see any possibilities or clues for the type of reception he’d receive through the curtain, no shadows danced on the fabric despite the soft golden light that emanated from within, illuminating them with an ethereal angelic glow that suggested that even the slightest movement from within would have sent some black things WALTZING.

The house wasn’t quiet when he, finally, with a sigh and a shudder and a desperation to ignore the fact that he was wishing with all his might that the egg wasn’t an egg anymore but a normal child, a human looking one at that, and that Michael wasn’t the Michael he’d left but the Michael who made him hard, opened the door. The house was loud, filled with strange noises, whoops and beeps and growls and grunts and whistles and clicks, that didn’t seem to be coming from one direct spot but rather from everywhere all at once and called to his mind, for reasons unknown to him, the comparison of them to the silent screams of a hemlock garden being picked or a cactus being dethorned. The house was dark except for the golden glow that flickered like the tail end of coy candle flame, a door, standing halfway open with the patience of a giant mouth waiting for an unsuspecting traveller to mistake it for a cave, blocked an immediate view into the living room and a sighter of what was causing the brightness, until Terry played the role of an unsuspecting traveller and went in, one arm proffered in a half circle awaiting a hug and the other with the hand extended, palm up and out and waiting to push back whatever ran at him if whatever had hatched. Both of those arms freezing in place as a feeling tickled his fanny to completion and his eyes and ears were confronted with the sight and sound of not one, but two eggs, giant ones at that- filling the room like it was the room itself that was the egg- sitting side by side, glowing their glow and showcasing the decidedly strange forms inside them, filling the air with stories.

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the-elusive-libbin · 3 years

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how did you get into vore

Hmmm ~ Lemme think, don’t read this if you don’t wanna hear about how I got into my kink. It’s entirely SFW obvs.

So I developed a fascination with the stomach around 3 or 4 when I asked a relative where food went when you ate it. He told me it goes into your stomach. Then kids shows made it where characters would eat a ton of food and their bellies expanded. I realised it was similar in real life too, yet the cartoons seemed so exaggerated and unreachable~ So the more I studied the stomach, the more fascinated I became. I realised it made noises and that everyone has a stomach. At around 6 I got given a book on dinosaurs and noted the importance of gastroliths in the digestion of herbivorous dinos like the stegosaurus. I had a book set on animals and found that snakes swallowed prey whole......and alive. So I wondered why humans didn’t? Studied up, snakes lack sternums. What’s a sternum? So I looked that up. Fascinated myself with biology, especially the digestive system. I’m 26 this year so when I was young the internet wasn’t like it is now. I felt weird when I looked at these books and didn’t know why, I knew I liked it. Then a male friend of mine was playfighting with me one day at his house and while we were wrestling and hitting each other, his brother sat on my back in a sort of awkward pile on. My ear pressed into my friend’s stomach and he was hungry. The noises I’d never heard like that before. I instantly stood up and walked away X,D like wtf was that? Anyway, me being me, thought I was weird enough as it is. I didn’t have many friends at all and looked unusual with my bunny teeth and grey hair, I just thought me liking stomachs and hunger was just me and me alone. At around 12 I discovered YouTube. Found on accident basic cartoon vids of characters swallowing each other. Male, femal, animal preds. None mattered to me, they were all flustering. I got so scared that my mom would find out I had seen such things that I deleted all the search history. Never told anyone irl what I was into until I was about 17 I believe. Nowadays I’m open and an ambivert rather than a shy introvert X,D I noticed more and more that I liked vore as well as the hunger rumbles and people stuffing themselves. Went off female tums because I developed a pregnancy phobia and fem preds just remind me too much of preg. Kept refining my likes as time went by and changing favourite tropes. Discovered anime at 12 and learned that stomach growls happen a whole lot in anime ahah~ Got sucked in, became a weeb. I could NOT say the word ‘stomach’ out loud without stuttering and blushing until I was 16. Helped that I was shy though tbh. I discovered them through Deviantart that I wasn’t alone. Made friends with my good friend Ask bloated belly blog and realised I wasn’t the only person in the world that liked this stuff. Learned that there were more of us belly fiends out there, that it was something called a kink! The revelation.....man. All those years of thinking I was weird when we like what we like~ Who knew?

#belly kink #about me #vore mention #hunger mention #stuffing mention

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theobsessor1 · 4 years

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Drunken Noodle

Summary: Deceit should know better, going through with another one of Remus’s ideas. He thought it would have been a one time deal, just something for them that night to experiment with his more reptilian side. But he’s starting to regret it with the growing nest of eggs, and horrible uncertainty of feelings swirling in his chest...he might be in some trouble here.

Pairings: mild intrulogical, qpp demus, hinting at Lociet

Warnings: drinking, alcohol. hinting at slight alcoholic problem.

Word count: 3087

previous chapters ch.1, ch.2, (read on ao3)

(wish to support me buy me a coffee :3)

Chapter 3 of “Say Something” series

Deceit huffs, sitting partially slouched over the dinning table as he sips from his wine glass, munching on gummy rats that Remus had summoned him to help brighten his sour mood. Said creative side was currently sitting across from him going on about something or another.

Deceit wasn’t paying attention, just enough to mindlessly nod when needed, letting the side jabber and get his energy out while the snake side sulked. Hmm...maybe he should pay Remy and Emile a visit. He hadn’t gone to see them since...well, it’s been awhile.

It took him a moment to realize that Remus had stopped talking, The Duke had turned to stare at the stairs of the subconscious that led up to the mindscape...Standing at the bottom of them was Logan, he was just there! Casually looking around the room where he stood. It’s quite a surprising site to see, no wonder it drove Remus speechless. Well besides the fact that he’s obviously rather fond of the other side. After a moment, Deceit clears his throat. “Can we not help you?”

“Actually, yes. I wanted to talk to you about something.” Logan straightens his tie and clears his throat, brushing off the fact he hadn’t realized the two sides were at the table. “Oh?”

“Well more specifically, the events that occurred during our discussion with Thomas earlier today. I wanted to apologise on the behalf of the other. They were rather dismissive of you, despite you bringing up some rather valid points. I..” Logan coughs. “You can say I understand to a degree the feeling of being brushed over, so to speak, and that I inf act do not condone such behavior especially to someone who is actually contributing and trying to help.”

Deceit has to take a moment to collect his thoughts and form proper words through the fuzzy haze of alcohol... This almost seems like some joke. “...Thank you for the apology, though it’s rather unnecessary. You're not the one that needs to apologise, if you want me to be honest you deserve an apology more than me” he points at Logan with an unimpressed lift of his brow.

The spectacled side sighs “Regardless, I bring the apology and regret that I had not attempted to get them to listen to you.” “It’s whatever. I appreciate it I guess.” Deceit mumbles, waving a hand concedingly and taking another sip of wine clearly not very concerned with this conversation.

“I could tear out their tongues for you!” Remus offers, way too excited at the idea. Logan frowns shaking his head “That’s...very thoughtful of you Remus, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“It would be more fun to shove them down the stairs, like a couple of really annoying slinkies” Deceit adds mumbling into his drink Remus snickers nodding while Logan shakes his head “I appreciate your offer and suggestions, but that’s still a no. We want them to listen, not get them hurt.”

Deceit stands from the table swaying almost like a snake influenced by a snake charmer. “Well, that is much easier said than done. They’re bound to get hurt before they start listening to anyone.” He picks up his glass intent to make his way to the couch “You’ve said your apology, you don’t have to stick around any longer.” Logan raises a finger, opening his mouth to speak only to close it as he squints at the snake side as Remus gets up coming behind Deceit and scooping him up into his arms, spawning tentacles from his back to help properly support the side in his arms. Using one of said tentacles to slip the wine glass away from the snake sides reach. “Is he drunk?”

Deceit hisses, attempting to wiggle from Remus’s grasp and snatch his drink back “I’m not drunk...yet...I think.”

“...Do you intend to get drunk?” The logical side crosses his arms, frowning at them. Deceit shrinks down on himself guiltily

“...Maybe…”

Logan’s frown deepens as he shakes his head “I’m getting you a glass of water, have either of you eaten anything?”

Remus carries a definitely not pouting Deceit over to the couch where Logan had pointed for them to sit as the snake side replies “I’ve only eaten a few gummies so far.”

“I ate ass!” The duke enthusiastically answers plopping onto the couch and still holding the grumpy snake side protectively in his arms and tentacles.

“He means a peach.”

Logan huffs heading into the kitchen, making himself at home as he goes about sifting through the cabinets and fridge “I’m going to make the two of you something proper to eat, do either of you have any dietary restrictions?”

Remus nods with a bounce, he knows the answer to that! “DeeDee doesn’t like mushy stuff ‘n I don’t like citrus.” Logan nods, filing that information away for later. He has managed to find a box of noodles and some tomato sauce, spaghetti is easy to make and hopefully satisfying to the two sides. It grows quiet for a while save for the sounds of Logan cooking, filling a pot with water and setting on the stove to boil with the noodles.

Remus plays with Deceit’s hair keeping himself occupied as they await the meal. Something must be up, why else would the logical side have decided to suddenly care to apologize to him, to care if he was drunk or for that matter make them food?? Wasn’t he the one that usually would argue that they didn’t need it?

Deceit can’t help but squint suspiciously at the side, “You’re totally not planning something?” he hisses flicking his tongue out with his words.

“Well, I”m planning to feed you some spaghetti and try to get you to drink some water to help keep you hydrated from your consumption of alcohol.” The snake side huffs knowing that was the logical side's so called plan. But he wants to know the real one! He opens his mouth to say as much but Logan continues “Maybe re-discuss points from earlier conversation with the others and Thomas since, well, neither of us got to share our opinions on the matter...If that is what you are asking?”

Deceit sits up, turning around on the couch and propping himself up on his elbows to look at the logical side, eyes narrowed. That can’t possibly be all. There’s gotta be something else here, he’s sure of it.

Remus finishes the braid he’s been working on, wiggling happily at his work before starting another. “I could think of some tasty things to do instead off boring ol’ talk!~”

The snake side sighs “Remu-” “Oh! I tried that mushroom thing from Hannible! You gotta come check out the corpses with me!”

“Re-” “The roots really did spread through the whole body! I got one of them to be oozing-”

Deceit huffed snapping his fingers to focus the creative side’s attention, the duke’s mouth clicking shut and heading whipping around to find the sudden source of noise.

“I know you want to talk to him about all those wild ideas of yours dear, but do you think you can wait till after I interrogate him?”

“Oh! Yeah, I’ll wait!” Remus nods his head like a bobble head, stilling as he goes back to focusing on playing with Deceit’s hair, a third braid in the making...he might be attempting to stick an eyeball in it...or a tooth.

Logan adjusts his glasses as his brows furrowed in confusion, the glasses fogged slightly from the steam of the cooking pasta “Interrogate me? What for?”

“Well see Logan, you never come down to this part of Thomas’s mind. Nor really have you ever shown an interest in our care, save for Remus of course when he’s visiting you but that's just a given.” he makes an offhanded gesture to Remus “So tell me, what is your true motive for all this.”

Logan pauses in his task of stirring the pasta sauce “My motive?”

“Yes your motive, I may be intoxicated but I can still tell when something is suspiciousss.”

Logan tilts his head at the snake side, beginning to absentmindedly stir the pot again. “Have I been acting suspicious. I do suppose a divergence from usual patterns would make something seem suspicious and put you on edge.” he thinks aloud.

He shakes his head, turning the heat off the stove and mixing the sauce into the noodles. “I have no secret motive, no ulterior plan, I am merely tired of the treatment and order of things...of course that’s now paired with the fact that I am concerned about your alcohol consumption.”

Deceit rolled his eyes “Well the whole treatment and order is going to be harder to change than just coming over for a visit…” he moves from Remus’s grasp to lean over the back of the couch “And my so called alcohol consump-consumption is fine! I didn’t have a lick of it for a couple of weeks!” Of course that was because he wasn't about to drink such stuff while he was preg- for reasons, wasn’t drinking it for specific reasons he will not ever talk about...yes.

...for a pink and yellow, brown speckled reason currently in his bedroom hidden with the other one.

Logan hummed, not convinced as he made plates, putting the finished spaghetti on dishes before carrying them to the table “Either way, you two are eating and then getting to bed. No shenanigans or schemes, whatever it is you two do when left alone down here.”

Deceit can’t help but pout at that, he doesn't have plans for the night but still, he doesn't want to be told what to do and be put to bed like some child thank you very much.

Remus finishes with the sides hair and scoops him into his arms again. “I can walk myself!”

“I know” :D

Stuck being carried it seems, the snake side just sighs, there’s no use fighting Remus, they’re both touch starved as is and the dukes pentiant for just snatching and carrying people around is a constant.

He gets gently deposited into his usual place setting at the head of the table, Remus sitting by his side and eagerly digging into the food...he does notably try at an attempt to be polite and use a fork as he stuffs his face tonight.

Deceit sulks conjuring himself a wine glass by his bowl, eyes widening when Logan snatches it away and puts a glass of water down. “Excuse me?”

“No more wine tonight. Water”

Remus giggles at his expression, the snake side not used to someone trying to boss him around like this.

He can’t help lifting a challenging eyebrow at the logical side “No wine?” Deceit waves his hand over the glass of water turning it into a glass of whiskey on the rocks “Fine.”

Logan raises an eyebrow back, clearly unimpressed and frowning. He gives a huff taking the glass, poofing it out of existence and putting a glass of water down once again.

Deceit flicks his wrist changing the water to vodka, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he watches Logan. The logical side huffs “enough” he snaps turning the drink back into water “you will drink the water, eat and then we can assist you to your room for re-” “No!”

Logan sputters to a stop startled by Deceit’s sudden shout and looking to the snake side with bewilderment.

Deceit blinks before flushing lightly as he looks down at his place sheepishly, he hadn’t even realized he had stood, now seating himself back down. “Apologies...I um I would just prefer not to be in my room tonight.” he pokes at his plate with his fork hoping Logan wont see through his lie

“R-right.” Logan clears his throat, adjusting his tie in that lil tick of his “Well, then um we can make you comfortable on the couch then? Will that suffice?”

Deceit quickly nods “yes, the couch will be fine.”

The dinner seems to be rather dull after that, Remus and Logan going back to discussing what Remus had done in the imagination inspired off of the Hannibal episodes they have watched together. Janus watches them chatter fondly, the two animatedly talking and gesturing back and forth...It’s nice seeing the two enjoy themselves like this. Especially Logan, it’s not often you get to see the logical side light up like this.

With a small hum he stands with his empty bowl taking it over to the sink without a word, not wanting to interrupt.

He tries to walk past the table without being noticed, if he can sneak past he may be able to make an escape to the imagination and to his two favorite traits. Of course things never go as planned, why would they. Remus immediately perks up and the creaking of his chair is the only warning Janus gets before the creative side pounces, pinning him to the ground.

Janus sighs with a groan “Really? Remus why-” they both pause with confusion and looking to the dining table, hearing a small giggle and a snort.

Logan was watching them, a hand covering his mouth to stifle the sound of a laugh, eyes full of amusement and fondness...they made the logical side laugh?!

Remus's eyes sparkle surprised that he got Logan to genuinely laugh! He beams excitedly at the logical side “You laughed!”

Logan blinks, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he quickly lowers his hands “I-I um think you misheard.”

Remus shakes his head quickly scooping up Janus and holding him out to Logan like one holds a feral cat away from themselves “No! I heard it! J-eh Dee-Dee did too!”

Janus gives Logan a disgruntled look but nods, not appreciating how he’s being held “I did here it too. You do realize you can’t exactly lie to me right?” he flicks out his tongue at Logan as if to emphasize he can sense them.

Logan sighs fiddling with his tie “Remus I don’t think it’s good for you to hold Janus like that. Why don’t you get him to the couch and I can get him some pillows and blankets from his room.” he suggests quickly in an attempt to change the subject.

Remus nods, eyes still sparkling as he pulls Janus closer, of course it's a bit of an issue when the snake side is wriggling and squirming as if trying to escape. “No! Don’t you dare go into my room!”

Remus takes a hurried step back conjuring his tentacles again to try and keep a hold of the snake side who's baring his fangs at Logan and hissing angrily.

Logan flinches, face scrunching with confusion as he quickly puts his hands up “I apologize, I didn’t mean to over step! I won’t go into your room if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Janus calms, going still in Remus’s arms looking a bit disgruntled as he gives one last soft hiss at Logan.

Logan huffs and Remus turns around so Janus can’t look at Logan anymore “Welp I think Logan had the right idea, someone had too many silly drinks, bed time!”

Janus whines “I did not have too many, and I'm not tired. Put me down.”

Remus shakes his head dropping Janus right onto the couch “Nope, it's bedtime! I’m putting you to bed and ain’t nothing you doing about it.” Janus makes more unhappy noises before squeaking at the sudden weight of Remus flopping on top of him.

“You're not even going to let me get comfortable?”

“Nope” >:3

Janus huffs glaring at the ceiling of the living room resigned.

Logan smiles making his way over “Maybe it would be best to let him get comfortable, I don’t think I’ll be able to sit with you otherwise.” he pauses “That is of course if it's alright if I stay?”

Janus sighs as Remus quickly scoots off him “Might as well, you’ve made yourself at home thus far.” he sits up to move to the side so that Remus and Logan can probably cuddle, only to stiffen up when he’s suddenly squished between the two sides.

Remus wiggles some before snapping his fingers and changing them all into comfortable t shirts and pajama shorts before wrapping Janus up in a blanket “You gotta wrap Dee up in a blanket so he can burrow and stay warm, otherwise you get a grumpy snek who can’t sleep.”

Janus sputters glaring at Remus from his cozy blanket burrito“Don’t give away my weaknesses!”

Remus ignores him, smiling at Logan “and squish him! He sleeps best when squished”

Janus hisses as Remus leans on him more, and makes an offended noise when he is shushed by the creative side. And again when Logan leans on him next. He’s definitely squished between the two sides now.

No escape! Damn it!

Remus snickers resting his chin on top of Janus’s head as Janus yawns, his forked tongue curling. Janus huffs giving a weak shove at the creative side.

Logan watches fondly “You two seem...rather close? But I suppose that’s a given with the two of you living together down here for so long?”

Remus nods “Something like that, and well-” he shrugs unsure what the right words would be “ I don’t know, I’m wild and feral and got no boundaries, and Dee’s the exact opposite, balance each other, I guess.”

Logan nods, watching amusedly as Janus’s eyes grow heavy.

“You would think that we would hate each other but we kinda just found our own system of things together that works for us…” Virgil used to be part of that too, but well...guess yeah win some you lose some or...whatever that saying is.

Logan hums resting his head near Remus’s “and...you don’t suppose...that I could possibly join this system? I um” Logan clears his throat looking away nervously “I um mean more so if its alright I keep visiting for the most part. You always visit me an-” “yes”

Logan pauses looking to Remus

“Yes, you can come visit, it’s not like we can stop you” Remus smirks at him “think of yourself as an honorary member here, i'll make ya a badge and everything.”

Logan smiles before they both blink and look down, hearing soft sleeping noises coming from Janus, a lil bit of his tongue sticking out as he sleeps.

Remus snickers at that, getting himself more comfy. "Heheh… sleeping snek…"

#egg fic #Say Something #Deceit sanders #Remus sanders #Logan sanders #sander sides au #Writing is hard #demus #intrulogical #lociet

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drarry-lover · 7 years

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OH MY WORD! Guys! I managed to reach 5000 followers! Like seriously, that is amazing, oh my word, thank you all so much for following this little blog, you’re all so great!! ^^

I really want to do something to show you guys how honoured I feel, but I am rather poor and I lack any talents. Will you guys accept a rec-list of my all time favourite fics in a reblog-able format?

Rec will be in the cut below if anyone is interested in it, otherwise you’re all so amazing, please stay you and thank you so much!

Adrift by Cheryl Dyson

This was supposed to be a swashbuckling pirate story. It sort of took a turn into Whaaaaa? but it's now my favorite, so I guess it's not all bad... Anyway, Auror Harry takes a vacation and runs into Pirate Draco. This fic contains MATURE content. (One-shot | 14k | M)

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on. (Multi-chapter | 140k | Explicit)

An Issue of Consequence by faithwood

Draco has woken up in an alternate universe. Or he has woken up utterly insane. Nothing else can possibly explain why Harry Potter suddenly seems to think he’s Draco’s boyfriend. An eight year fic. Post-DH. EWE. HPDM. SLASH. Mature content. (Multi-chapter | 21k | M)

A Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing by mahaliem

Draco hits his head and wakes up in a world where he's a Gryffindor and Harry is a Slytherin. (Multi-chapter | 43k | M)

Azoth by zeitgeistic (faire_weather)

Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care. (Multi-chapter | 88k | Explicit)

Bitter Honey, Green Night by faithwood

An inn, an Auror, a criminal, a mystery. (One-shot | 14k | Explicit)

Black Truth by InferiorBeing

And, with bated breath, Draco traced the silver line down one more step in the family tree. Draco Lucius Malfoy... the third full blooded Veriae in the Malfoy family... and future life mate of Harry Potter. HD SLASH No HBP spoilers (Multi-chapter | 100k | T)

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks. (One-shot | 54k | Explicit)

Chaos Theory by Tessa Crowley (tessacrowley)

Chaos: when the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future. One gene varies, one neuron fires, one butterfly flaps its wings, and Draco Malfoy's life is completely different. Draco has always found a certain comfort in chaos. Perhaps he shouldn't. (Multi-chapter | 102k | Explicit)

Checkmate by Naadi

Draco has a plan to get Harry Potter, and challenges him to a game of Dare Chess. But is it love, or betrayal, he has in mind? A real game of chess is played throughout the story. A seventh year story based on canon through Goblet of Fire. (Multi-chapter | 250k | T)

Dismantle Repair by shamrocker531

How a random meeting in a coffee shop can change everything. Non-magical. Draco/Harry, some Draco/Cedric, Harry/Oliver - Warning: Explicit sexual content. (Multi-chapter | 160k | M)

Draco the Cowardly Lion by Lomonaaeren

When Draco is Sorted into Gryffindor, everything changes. For the, uh, for the better? (One-shot | 5k | Teen and up)

Eclipse by Mijan

Draco swore revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and for once, he keeps his promise. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. But when Draco’s world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins. (Multi-chapter | 309k | T)

The Fall of the Veils by lettered

This is the fic where Muggles find out about wizards, wars are fought, Apparition is abolished, political conspiracies abound, Draco is asexual, and Harry has Legilimency sex with him. (One-shot | 60k | Mature)

Freudian Slip by jennavere

Two years after graduating from Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy is still obsessed with Harry Potter. Fed up, his father makes him get therapy. (One-shot | 10k | M)

Friend Like Me by LadyVaderWrites

Draco's rendition of the Love story that never was. (One-shot | 11k | M)

Gilded Soul by Digitallace

It’s one thing to hear about the daring tales of Harry Potter but quite another to be living in the middle of one. But the danger Draco is destined for seems trivial once he finds himself falling in love with Harry. (Multi-chapter | 94k | M)

Greenhouse Lessons by Cheryl Dyson

Harry and Draco have detention in Hogwarts greenhouse. Dangerous plantlife and several varieties of euphoria ensue. It was complete, but I continued it... This fic contains MATURE adult content. (Multi-chapter | 14k | M)

Gumption by Roozette

In which there are biscuits, poisonous snakes, nefarious ploys, and, oh yes, Harry is slightly mental and the heir of Gryffindor. (Multi-chapter | 6k | M)

Harbinger by Copper Vixen

Harry is a demon with a mission. His assignment? To locate and retrieve his target before he runs out of time or irreparable damage is done to the mortal plane. (Multi-chapter | 96k | T)

Harry Potter and the Children of the Future by Ahja Reyn

In Harry's 7th year, children from the future suddenly appear at Hogwarts and one of them claims to be Harry's son. Problem is, Harry isn't the only father...DMHP [NO male preg] (Multi-chapter | 83k | M)

Here’s The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout

Harry thinks "Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?" is a much simpler question than, "Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don't, what will you do?" (One-shot | 49k | Mature)

High Priced by Cheryl Dyson

I referred to this as My Stupid Veela Fic until I decided it was fairly good. Harry is a Veela, for a change, since I was tired of Draco!Veela stories. This fic contains MATURE adult content. (One-shot | 17k | M)

How Potter Turned Malfoy Gay by Galadriell

The whole truth and nothing but the truth. And a bit of weirdness. (Multi-chapter | 36k | M)

I’m a Slave For You by BecauseIHurtSo

After being sold into Ministry enforced slavery to one Mr. Harry Potter, Draco is simply trying to find his lot in life. (One-shot | 6k | M)

In Pieces by Cheryl Dyson

Harry returns to Hogwarts as the new DADA instructor, only to find his teaching efforts thwarted by a very familiar ghost. This fic contains mature content and the necessity of one of our boys not being alive. Exactly. *grin* (Multi-chapter | 87k | M)

In the Company of a Rubber Duck by Anonymous

War makes for strange bedfellows. However that doesn't fully explain how Harry ended up sharing his bath with Draco Malfoy... nor why Malfoy was a rubber duck at the time. (One-shot | 34k | Explicit)

In Which Draco Malfoy Treats His Classmates To Bad Poetry Over Breakfast by giggly!RurouniHime

How does Draco love thee? Let him count the ways… (One-shot | 0-1 000 | G)

Letters by Galadriell

Harry inadvertently becomes penpals with Draco. Here are the letters! Harry/Draco slash. Chapter 17 contains the full story: edited, updated and with more letters. So read that instead of the first 16 chapters! COMPLETE! (Multi-chapter | 51k | M)

The Mistletoe Incident by Naadi

A story in limerick verse. HxD slash. Draco commandeers the mistletoe and Harry sets out to put a stop to it. (One-shot | 500 | T)

Must Love Quidditch by dracosoftie

Through a series of emails from an online dating site, Harry thinks he's found his perfect match. Will the bond they've forged survive after their identities are revealed? H/D. Warnings for slash, language and explicit sexual content. (Multi-chapter | 107k | M)

Nevar by Aoiika

AU. Lily and James are murdered, leaving behind their seven-year-old son. The little black bird has a hard time fighting his way through life on his own. Especially when he's found by a darkness that has followed him, and swallows him whole. HP/DM. Violence and serious abuse later on. Slow romance. (Multi-chapter | 127k | M)

Obliviation by Cheryl Dyson

When Harry decides to quit Auror Training in order to care for young Teddy over the summer, he has quite enough to worry about without Pansy Parkinson dumping a mute Draco Malfoy on his doorstep. (Multi-chapter | 27k | M)

On a Clear Day by Sara’s Girl

Draco Malfoy is waiting for his real life to begin, and it appears that he's not the only one. Coffee, charity, and the wisdom of the elderly. HPDM. Oneshot of epic proportions. (One-shot | 43k | M)

Order of Merlin by Cheryl Dyson

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Paradigm by Cheryl Dyson

In my quest to conquer all possible Harry/Draco cliches, I present my Rentboy!Draco fic. *evil smirk* Harry is an Auror and Draco is a Rentboy. This is not a typical rentboy story. (Muti-chapter | 59k | M)

Phantom Orchid by Cheryl Dyson

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Starts With a Spin by Maxine

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Sealed with a Kiss by faithwood

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Second Chance by DreamingInColour

Of all the possible ways he could die Draco never would have thought a single olive would lead to his demise. But when he is offered a second chance at life he eagerly accepts. Too bad his second chance comes with an unexpected condition. (Multi-chapter | 17k | M)

Secrets by Vorabiza

Beginning with Draco's unexpected arrival at the Dursleys, Harry's summer becomes filled with activity and many secrets. He generates several unexpected allies as he finds himself actively becoming the leader of the Light side. H/D post-HBP (Multi-chapter | 411k | X)

The Slytherin Gryffindor by Cheryl Dyson

This is my response to JKR's horrific epilogue. It's a dual novel with one part Albus Scorpius and one part HarryDraco. Deathly Hallows compliant! The Slytherin Hufflepuff is the Albus Scorpius portion. This fic contains MATURE adult content. (Multi-chapter | 40k | M)

Sparkle Sparkle Princesses by Cheryl Dyson

One of Draco's random pranks gets out of hand and creates a roomful of pretty princesses. Crackfic FTW! OMG it's only PG13! *gasp* (One-shot | 2k | T)

Stigmata by InferiorBeing

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Storm in a Teacup by faithwood

For reasons he'd rather not think about, Draco is obsessed with Potter's hair. This cannot end well. (One-shot | 8k | M)

Synthetic Bonds by mypetelephant

Harry has always been the golden boy of Malfoy Corporation, earning the respect of Lucius and the resentment of his high school rival, Draco. But Lucius has a business proposal that involves Harry becoming a Malfoy..by marrying Draco. Non-magic AU (Multi-chapter | 125k | M)

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him? (Multi-chapter | 70k | Explicit)

That Which Divides Us by oldenuf2nobetter

Three years after what would have been their seventh year at Hogwarts, the war between the forces of light and Voldemort's minions grinds on. But even within the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix there are vast disagreements over what is good for 'the Chosen One' and his volatile relationship with Draco Malfoy has many on edge. Sometimes even the best intentions can reap disaster. (Multi-chapter | 126k | Explicit)

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain by faithwood

It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross. SLASH. HPDM. Humour. Metaphorical angst. Hufflepuffs. A peacock. An eight year fic. Post-DH. EWE. (One-shot | 22k | M)

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Saving his mortal enemy in a moment of insanity Draco is suddenly labelled a hero. Floundering in a new life and hiding from Death Eaters with Harry he finds that his allegiance isn’t the only thing that’s changed. (Multi-chapter | 56k | M)

Tick Tock by fireflavored

Draco Malfoy is in serious danger of becoming an old maid. (One-shot | 11k | NC-17)

Turn by Sara’s Girl

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently. Epilogue compliant/AU. HPDM slash but some canon het along the way. Please trust me - I promise the epilogue will not bite you. (Multi-chapter | 321k | M)

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness. Pairings: HP/DM (Slash) Timeframe: 1994-2002 Goblet to 4 yrs post-DH EWE Rating T for language, high angst, content. (Multi-chapter | 302k | Teen and up)

The Undeserved Hardships of Draco Malfoy by Bullied

It was all an accident, helping that annoying Potter! But now the wizard extraordinaire, Draco Malfoy, is in a bind. He’ll need all of his intelligence, his wits, his looks and his sneers just to make it through Hogwarts! (Multi-chapter | 88k | T)

Valentine’s Day Repeated by bananacosmicgirl

It’s not a happy Valentine’s Day for Draco. Then again, he might get a chance to do it over… (Multi-chapter | 18k | T)

Want by Cheryl Dyson

Draco seeks out Harry in order to assist his family. And then he has second thoughts. This fic contains MATURE adult content. And Harry on a motorcycle. GUH. (One-shot | 4k | M)

We Are Young (I’ll Carry You Home Tonight) by Femme (femmequixotic)

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends. But when Harry agrees to work with Draco to put Kingsley Shacklebolt into the Minister's office, they can't work side-by-side again every day and sleep together; that would be courting disaster. Wouldn't it? (One-shot | 68k | Explicit)

The Way Down by lettered

Malfoy’s all, “Come out of there,” the way you say to a cat who is badly behaved. And Harry’s all like, “No, what, I’m a hermit! And I have a chest-monster! And I am crazy magically powerful!” and Malfoy’s all, “We all have problems, bub.” (thoughtfully) “You are crazy though. I’ll give you that.” (Multi-chapter | 70k | M?)

We, The Kings by MissPronounced

A medieval tale of ancient prophecies, chivalrous duelling and a forbidden love between a Slytherin Prince and a lowly knight. Eventual Harry/Draco. (Multi-chapter | 191k | M)

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