#itwom au

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 3: Master of the House

In which Danny meets the ever-so-charming owner of the strange mansion, and gets offered a deal to save her friend. Contains: ~2.1k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

At least screaming was out of the question, not while she seemed to barely be able to breathe in the first place. This was surreal. This wasn’t normal. But your eyes could only play so many tricks on you before you had to accept that what was standing before you was not an illusion, but a reality you had to face. 

And face it she would.

“Hey,” she said simply, wondering if the giant man could even hear her from all the way across the entryway. Surely her voice would be nothing louder than the squeak of a mouse to him. “I’m looking for my friend Nathan. Someone…said they could help?”

If I just talk to him like a normal guy, it’s less scary, right? He’s just a normal guy. Danny was at least quite adept at taking her own fear and crushing it up into a ball, shoving it under the rug of feigned confidence. She forced her own stiff posture to loosen, her arms crossing over each other in as casual a manner as she could manage. A small part of her wondered if she should address him more formally, because based on his dress and the state of the manor alone he at least seemed important, but she didn’t know how rich people talked to each other anyways. She’d never gotten so much as a glimpse of high society, and even if she had, she wouldn’t have the patience for it. Certainly not now, when she’d been traveling all day in the cold and had nearly reached the end of her rope as it was.

The giant chuckled, taking a few more steps toward her before he stopped in the middle of the room, and though he was still a ways away, Danny still had to crane her neck upwards just to meet his eyes—dark, and dancing with humor along with an upturned smirk on his face. “Slow down there, doll. We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet.” It wasn’t the same voice she’d been hearing before—he spoke with a low, quiet pitch, each word articulated clearly and deliberately.

She repressed a grimace as best she could at the way he addressed her—despite her current stature and every survival instinct in her body, she felt the urge to punch him right in the gut. 

He gestured lightly to himself with a graceful arch of his fingers against his chest. “My name is Christopher Penn, and I am the lord of this estate.”

He did not, however, ask Danny for her own name. Instead, he took a few more steps toward her and, so quickly that she did not have enough time to form an initial protest, he bent down and picked her up, placing her in his palm as he rose to his full height again.

For just a moment, she didn’t think about the fact that she was a hundred feet off the ground. All she could focus on was the absolutely unparalleled, brazen gall that this man had to just pluck her off the ground like she was some child’s toy. Her lips curled in an unfriendly snarl. “I don’t care who the fuck you are, but you’d better ask next time you try and pick me up like that.” 

Being a little closer to his face now, she made note of the fact that this guy’s stupid big nose did look incredibly punchable. If only there wasn’t a hundred-foot drop between her and it.

She forced herself to keep her glare fixed entirely on Christopher, to prevent herself from looking down or showing signs of panic. She did not think about how strange it felt to have the warm surface beneath and behind her consist of a man’s entire hand, or how she could feel every groove and crease in the skin that her own hands pressed against. 

“It’s not very becoming to begin a conversation with such vulgar language.” A sharp grin told her he was only amused by her antics, though, not offended—even so, he tilted his head, almost as if her behavior confused him as well. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she hissed. She was liking this strange giant less and less every time he opened his mouth. “I must have forgotten my manners midway through the air. Is that from the same rich person etiquette book that says it's okay to pick up people without asking?”

Irritation and anger were a great distraction from fear, and so she leaned into both now, regardless of the consequence. She had some small amount of pride to maintain, and quaking before this man in terror would only serve to shatter what remained of it. 

He chuckled—a deep sound that she could almost feel travel through her body, now that she sat in his palms. “Sarcasm, hm? I’m impressed by your bravery. Most people tend to prefer screaming and running.”

“Oh, you’re telling me screaming is the usual response people have to you? Gee, I wonder why,” she said dryly. “Must be your natural charm.” 

His sharp eyes flicked over her, a hint of their humor dulled slightly. “You said you were looking for your friend, correct?”

“Yes,” she groaned, exasperated. How many times had she said as much since finding this place? It was beginning to feel like the question was being deliberately dodged. “My friend, Nathan Hayes. He was traveling this way earlier this morning, and his horse returned without him. Have you seen him? Whoever spoke to me outside seemed to know where he was. Maybe you can just let me talk to them instead,” she grumbled quietly, trying to dampen her distaste for this stuck-up rich bastard as much as possible in the interest of acquiring any sort of help in finding Nathan. She couldn’t very well bite the hand that fed her—or, more accurately, picked her up and carried her at a height that would make even a high-flying bird a little nauseous.

Her instinct was to lash out at people who talked down to her, but even she knew when she needed to swallow her pride.

Something inscrutable passed across Christopher’s face for a moment as he seemed to absorb her words thoughtfully, as if she’d given him some clue in a particularly interesting mystery he was trying to solve. And then he gave her that sharp smile again, a grin that tipped just a little further than cordiality normally permitted. Yet it still didn’t reach his eyes—which regarded her in a strangely calculating, detached manner. 

“There’s no need for that,” he remarked impassively. “Your friend is here.” 

For just a moment, her irritation faded away to the overwhelming euphoria of relief, like a bucket of cold water had been poured over her and washed it away in an instant. Nathan was here. She’d found him. He was—

Why was he here? 

As suddenly as the relief had come, she covered it with a heavy cloak of suspicion, something beginning to claw at the back of her mind distrustfully. “...and you’ll take me to him, right? He’s safe? …we can leave?”

She didn’t like the idea of traveling at night, no, but she was in no rush to accept hospitality from this man, either. She would feel much better once all this magic, giant weirdness was far behind her, a forgotten tale she could think back on as some kind of fever dream brought on by the cold, or the fact that she couldn’t remember when she’d eaten last.

Christopher, to her dismay, lifted Danny a little higher so that she no longer had to tilt her head back to look at him straight on. 

“I’m afraid not.” 

Anger wasn’t even the first emotion to flare up this time—she was completely baffled by such a stark response that she was rendered speechless for a moment, staring at him with her mouth slightly agape. “...why?” 

“Your friend came here uninvited this morning, trespassing into my home. His punishment is to remain here in my service, as long as I require him.” Christopher’s smirk turned to a more matter-of-fact expression, like the humorless countenance of a lawyer. “So no, I’m afraid I can’t let you leave with him at this time.” 

A heavy weight sank to the very pit of Danny’s stomach as she listened in disbelief. Nathan was here as this guy’s…what, prisoner? Slave? She didn’t believe for one second that what the giant said was true—Nathan wasn’t the type to impose on others. He’d apologize for someone else bumping into him on the street, there was no way he’d wander into someone’s home uninvited unless he was desperate. And even then, Danny wasn’t sure he wouldn’t choose freezing to death over being an inconvenience to anyone. Why would he have stopped at this house anyways? Had he gotten hurt? Had he been looking for help? He certainly wouldn’t have broken in.

“...bullshit,” she hissed, a righteous anger rising up in her. If she had been at all confident in her footing, she would have attempted to stand up and take on a more intimidating posture, but she would take the slightly undignified position of sitting in Christopher’s palm over the much more undignified falling onto her face in his palm, or the loss of all dignity entirely by plummeting to the floor in a humiliating splatter of shame and stupidity. “You expect me to believe that? Nathan’s a good guy, he wouldn’t break into your stupid house.”

She set her jaw defiantly. “And even if I did believe you, he was probably desperate, or lost, or needed help. Are you really that fucking selfish, punishing someone instead of helping them? As if he’s in any way actually a threat or a burden to your sorry giant ass?” 

Nothing she said seemed to even make a dent in Christopher’s uncaring expression, her insults and slights at his character seeming to fall on deaf ears. His smile twitched and his eyebrows raised in mild contempt. “You’re quite bold, you know. Speaking like that to someone of my standing. And to a giant, no less.” 

His free hand came up to pluck her off of his palm, effectively pinning her arms to her sides in his grip so that she couldn’t even scratch and claw at him like she suddenly quite desperately wanted to. She could only thrash about uselessly, though her violent movement was quelled slightly as her feet made contact with nothing but air. As she dangled in front of Christopher’s face, she realized that his grip was the only thing keeping her from a horrifyingly long freefall. 

“A less patient man might not tolerate that kind of talk,” he muttered dangerously, his thumb pressing lightly against her collarbone and forcing her to meet his eyes, which remained lightly amused despite the darkened tone he’d taken on. “But, luckily for you, I’m rather generous, and I’m nothing if not fair.” 

She only glared at him in response, an absolutely twisted and poisonous scowl distorting her face. Words seemed almost too good for this bastard, and so she took on a disdainful and stubborn silence instead.

His grip around her loosened slightly, still restricting her movement and keeping her firmly from falling but no longer forcing her neck into an uncomfortable position. This must have been his supposed “generosity” at work. 

His eyes narrowed slightly, assessing her with an even, shrewd gaze. “I’ll make you a deal. You stay in his place, and I’ll let him go free. How’s that, doll?” 

She would have spat in his face if she were closer. Instead, she seethed silently, though a frightened worry began to cloud her thinking. She hadn’t even seen Nathan yet, but the description the other voice had given her had been uncannily accurate. That couldn’t be a coincidence. And while this giant could be lying about a lot of things, Danny was very aware that she had little choice but to believe him. She couldn’t very well overpower him, or even escape on her own now. 

She refused to let her mind linger long on the choice—when her own life and wellbeing were weighed against that of her close friend, the rocksteady, kind, and loyal companion she’d known for years, who’d taken care of her through thick and thin like she were his very own sister, the decision was as easy as breathing. 

“My name is Danny, you smarmy bastard. And if what you say is true, I’ll…”

She swallowed the last bit of her pride, closing her eyes for a second in one last act of defiance so she didn’t have to look at the rich prick’s face when she spoke. 

“...I’ll take his place here. Just let. Him. Go.”

The giant smiled—a wide, cocky smirk that showed too many of his teeth for Danny’s liking. “Deal.”

* * * * * * * * * * 

Next chapter ->

We still haven't seen Nathan. Hopefully he's okay?

Thanks for reading, and see you next week with chapter 4, Small Mercies!

#cursed cravings #itwom #itwom au #beauty and the beast au #g/t writing #vore writing #vore stories #g/t stories #nonsexual vore #sfw vore #soft vore

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 5: Poltergeist

In which Danny meets Sam - Christopher's congenial manservant who is as strange as the rest of the mansion. Contains: ~3.6k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

Danny had fully expected Christopher to return and gloat like some swaggering, self-satisfied cat, with her the proverbial canary. But after leaving with Nathan, the giant didn’t even return to the room she was kept in—she could hear him speak, assumedly to Nathan, and she heard the front door open, but then the sounds of his huge, hulking footsteps seemed to disappear up the stairs and away, and she was left alone, angry, and utterly confused. 

She supposed she didn’t know what to expect, although none of the possibilities seemed good. What would a giant possibly want with a human, anyways? He’d said Nathan was to “remain in his service” as long as he “required” him. But what did that even mean? What could a human even do in a big-ass mansion like this? Cleaning the floor of even one room would be the endeavor of a lifetime. A month might get one baseboard cleaned, or the dust swept off a single counter. And surely, a rich prick like this had some sort of staff already, giant or otherwise. 

She wondered if the services Christopher “required” were less tasteful in nature, and her stomach recoiled at the thought. He hadn’t said anything that would imply as much—not yet, anyways—and surely, if he’d kept her here for some sort of entertainment, he’d be down here taunting her right now. 

The hours passed uneventfully, allowing the rage bubbling up within her to quiet to a low simmer as she mulled over her predicament with an idle sort of dread, trying to put the pieces together of who—or rather, what—Christopher really was, and what horrors the next month would entail. The only answer she got was silence. 

Whatever the case, her loathing for the giant only increased the longer she waited for something to break the monotony—and so when he did reappear later that night, with the bare remnants of sunlight outside the windows having long since faded into black, she was all too eager to pick a fight. 

“I see his majesty has seen fit to grace me with his presence,” she spat, rising quickly from her seated position on the floor of the cage to stand as tall and straight as she could, exuding as much pure detestation as she possibly could when her whole body was the size of this bastard’s finger. “Touch me again, and I’ll bite your fucking finger off. I dare you.” 

Christopher moved toward her with a frustratingly placid expression, holding what appeared to be a…tiny tray of food in his hand. She hadn’t been expecting even the bare minimum of decency. I suppose he realizes he has to feed the prisoners if he wants his entertainment alive. 

“I thought you would like something to eat,” he said simply. He slid the tray between the functionally redundant bars of the cage. It was much more crude and simple than the rest of the house’s furnishings, and it was laden with food that had been prepared for someone her size to consume. She didn’t know exactly what all of it was, but it appeared far nicer than the traditional prisoner’s meal of gruel and moldy bread. There was some sort of soup in a quaint little bowl, a sliver of bread that was clearly cut from a giant-sized loaf, and even what appeared to be some manner of fruit sliced small enough for her to eat. She could smell spices that she just knew were far too expensive for her or Nathan to ever have afforded, and she felt a quiver of hunger in response. 

She almost caved—but her lip curled into a snarl, and she looked up to meet Christopher’s eyes as rage burned inside of her. “I’m not hungry,” she lied.

He wasn’t fazed—he bent down so that he was eye level with her now. She might have been intimidated by the serious edge to his gaze if she wasn’t so fucking angry at him. “There’s no need to be stubborn, doll. I’m trying to be nice—the least you could do is accept my generosity.” 

His calmness was exceptionally irritating—the way he didn’t seem to even acknowledge the fact that he talked about being nice when she was literally in a cage, when he had literally imprisoned her here, and her friend before her, and just walked about like it was fine and normal and really, she should be grateful. She didn’t care if he was a giant, or if he could easily reach in and crush her in his fist without a second thought if he wanted. If she had no choice but to endure this place for a month to pay off some bullshit debt, then she was going to make this guy’s life hell in the process, giant or not.

She took a few tense, silent steps toward the tray, getting even closer to Christopher’s face in the process. She ignored the way he stared at her, purposefully making eye contact with him the entire time to spite the tiny part of herself that was internally quaking with fear. She slowly bent down to pick up the bowl of soup—a buttery orange color, perhaps made of some sort of squash if she had to take a guess. It smelled delicious, but her hatred had overtaken her hunger for the moment.

With nothing but stubborn silence to punctuate the action, she flung the contents of the bowl at Christopher—she’d aimed for his eyes, but he’d reacted quick enough to take the brunt of it along his hooked nose with a sharp, frustrated intake of breath as the hot soup splashed across his perfect, pristine skin. She tossed the empty bowl at his face, and it bounced off his nose to the floor. 

For a moment, he didn’t move at all—she could tell that he was forcing a frustrated grimace into a neutral expression. His eyes squeezed closed before he opened them again with a steely, dark sharpness to his gaze as they narrowed at her. His lips curved up into a tight smile. “I suppose you’re right. You’re clearly not hungry.” 

With a tense jerk of his wrist, he flicked off the majority of the soup from his face and took the tray back, rising back up to his full height and turning around to leave the way he’d come without another word. Danny didn’t offer any more insults either—she was satisfied for the time being.

She was still riding the wave of what she considered a small victory, reveling in how satisfying it was to make a mess of that giant, to know that the soup had likely stained the crisp white collar of Christopher’s fancy, expensive shirt as he’d flicked it off his face. But as a little more time passed, and she could no longer hear his footsteps near her, the pride ebbed to make way for the twisting coils of hunger and regret in her stomach. She’d left herself with nothing to eat besides the remnants of the soup that dripped along the bars of her cage.

With no giant for her to put up a brave front for, she lowered herself to the cold metal floor of her cage and curled up, hugging her knees to her chest.

It wasn’t the first time she’d gone to bed hungry, but it was no less uncomfortable than it had been all those years ago. And just like in all those unpleasant memories, she was alone. 

Or, well, so she thought.

She had almost forgotten about the strange voice that had led her into the house earlier, the identity of which had become a much less pressing matter once she’d met the mansion’s giant resident. But she’d only been lying down for a minute or two when she heard it again—in front of her, as if there was another human standing in this cage with her somehow. 

“Hey…are you okay?” 

She stood up quickly, turning around in a circle as if she could have possibly missed the fact that her cage had another inhabitant. It was still empty, of course.

“Where are you?” she asked dubiously, walking cautiously up to the bars of the cage to look down towards the floor—which gave her a rush of vertigo, but no clues as to where the voice could be coming from.

“Uh…” the voice trailed off. “I mean, it’s not really important. I just help with things around here.”

Danny raised a questioning eyebrow, increasingly suspicious of the lack of answers she’d gotten in regards to this person’s identity. “I just want to get a look at you, alright? Can I just see you?” 

There was a lengthy pause. “Okay, listen. I know you’ve had to deal with a lot of weirdness today already, so I don’t want to, uh, scare you more.” 

Are they some sort of monster too? Maybe an invisible one? Danny sighed, somewhat tersely. “I can handle it. I have enough questions to deal with already.” 

“O…kay then,” the voice relented. “Well, for starters, my name’s Sam. It’s nice to meet ya, Danny.” 

Danny only nodded, waiting for Sam to appear so that a proper introduction could take place. 

“And, well, you haven’t seen me because I, uh, don’t really have a body.” 

Doesn’t have a body? Are they…some sort of ghost? Is this place haunted? “So…you’re like a ghost or something?” she suggested, with a tone that was much calmer than the sentence should warrant.

“Well, I mean, kinda, but it’s more like, uh…well, the funny thing is, I’m kind of…the house.” 

Danny blinked, wondering if she’d heard right. She was quite certain she had, but the words didn’t make much sense in the order they were in. “What the heck does that mean?”

It seemed as though a breeze flew around the room, though all the windows were closed—the curtains rose and lifted as a wind that had come from seemingly nowhere passed by them in a sweeping motion. Danny could almost feel a slight tingle along her skin, like the strange wind passed by her, too. 

“I can move anywhere in this place, and I can sort of…well, I can control the furniture and stuff. Wanna see?” 

Danny, suddenly feeling even more uncertain, took a few steps back towards the center of her cage, as if that would play any part in keeping her safe. Though it didn’t sound like “Sam” had any malevolence in their suggestion. “Uh…sure…?” 

The pages of a book on a nearby table rustled slightly as an invisible force caressed them. A quiet creaking and groaning came from a source she couldn’t quite place, until she realized that the chair next to the table was moving, seemingly of its own accord. Its plush, elaborately carved arms began to curl outward and inward again, moving impossibly like an awkward, upholstered bird trying to flap its wings slowly. And then, as if the slight amount of movement had been nothing more than a warm up, the short, carved legs of the chair began to hop forward and backwards in a rhythmic little jig, moving almost as gracefully as if the still very chair-shaped chair actually had hips to sway back and forth. It didn’t even make much noise as it tap-danced along the tile floor, moving as lightly and delicately as if guided by the gentlest and most precise of puppet strings.

Danny watched the scene with her mouth agape, not entirely convinced her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, even after all the other strange things she’d seen in the past few hours. 

The chair’s motion stopped as it settled back into the same position it had been in before, no worse for wear and with no indication that it had just taken up a new hobby besides resting there quietly and waiting for someone to sit upon it. 

“Wait, wait! Hold your applause.” 

The voice emanated from the chair this time, or at least from the chair’s direction—sounding a little further away from Danny than it had been before.

The large rug that adorned the tile floor began to flutter its edges delicately, in a manner that suggested it was quite pleased with itself, before the entire thing lifted from the ground and twirled around in a proud spectacle. Danny could do nothing but watch in a state of bewildered shock as the giant, floor-sized rug spun around in midair—she vaguely remembered Nate telling her a story involving a magic rug once, but hadn’t ever imagined seeing one for herself, and certainly not one so impossibly huge. The carpet folded in a few select places in such a way as it moved that it was almost evocative of the way one might turn and pose as they admired their own reflection in a mirror. The fabric bent forward in what seemed to be a gentlemanly bow before it quickly unfurled again and settled slowly back into place, floating as lightly as a leaf in the wind before it took its place on the floor once again.

The mysterious (though now perhaps slightly more explicable) wind seemed to swirl around the whole room once again in a wide circle, rustling book pages and curtains in its wake—and this time, as it swept across the fireplace, a small flame flickered across the logs inside that quickly rose to a crackling blaze. All the lamps that hung on the walls lit up at once, casting the whole place suddenly into a bright, warm glow.

“...ta-daaa,” Sam exclaimed proudly from what seemed to be a painting on the wall to Danny’s left—a portrait of a rather serious man who looked like he would not be very amused at all with his visage being used as a prop for such a carefree, furniture-possessing apparition. 

Perhaps the thing inside of her that should have been scared or baffled beyond reason had finally snapped, because all Danny could manage was an amused grin that spread wider across her face as she looked around the room in awe. “...wow,” she breathed. “Okay, yeah, I didn’t see that coming. That’s…really cool, actually.” 

The portrait that seemed to be currently hosting Sam’s presence didn’t change at all—and indeed, the man it portrayed didn’t seem to be capable of an emotion outside the realm of grim and severe, but she could have sworn that the painting almost blushed. “Aw, thanks. Honestly, you’re too kind.” 

Danny’s head tilted in curiosity, now much more fixated on learning about Sam than she was with feeling discontent about her current living situation. “So…I mean, how did this…did you…how are you-”

“-it’s a long story,” Sam interrupted, “and frankly, I don’t, uh, remember most of it. The details aren’t really important. I’m just…well, I take care of this place. Always have.” 

“Oh,” Danny mumbled, somewhat disappointed. She slowly sat back down on her cage’s floor. “So you work for the giant bastard, huh.”

“...yeah. I’ve taken care of Christopher since he was a kid. It’s been just us here, for a long time.” Sam spoke a little quieter, and much closer to her, as if they were seated in front of her again. 

“Listen, I’m…sorry I didn’t tell you about your friend before. But it was pretty brave of you, to take his place like that.” 

By all rights, Danny should be angry at Sam too—especially since they had apparently been the one to lead them inside this mansion in the first place. They’d tricked her, hadn’t they? 

But she couldn’t find the will to be angry at this invisible anomaly. She was tired—weary from traveling all day, from hunger, and honestly, from the energy it had taken to be so utterly furious at Christopher for so long. And strange as this person was, Danny couldn’t sense any malicious intent from them.

She sighed heavily. “I guess you can’t do much if he’s the ‘master of the house,’ huh.” She spoke the words with a bitter edge to them. “It’s okay. You’re not the one I’m angry at. You didn’t lock me up in here.”

Sam didn’t reply at first, and when they spoke again, they sounded much more hesitant than before. “...Christopher…doesn’t have any ill will towards you, you know. He’s a little rough around the edges, sure, but he doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just been…well, it’s been a while since he’s had company.” 

Danny couldn’t help but give a scornful laugh at Sam’s flimsy attempt to justify Christopher’s behavior. “‘Company’? I’m a fucking prisoner. Do you see this?” she lamented, gesturing weakly around her at the cage. “‘Rough around the edges’ is a really funny way to describe a pretentious prick that makes a habit of throwing people in fancy little cages for his own amusement.”

It felt like the whole house sighed around her.

There was another brief moment of silence, and for a moment she thought that Sam had just left completely. But then their voice spoke up, with just a hint of mischief coloring its tone. “Well…you don’t HAVE to stay in there. Um…hold on.”

“Hold onto wh-AT THE HELL,” Danny cried as the entire cage began to move with her inside of it. From her current vantage point frozen in fear against the bottom of the cage, she couldn’t see much of what was happening below her, but it almost seemed as though the golden stand that had been holding the cage up had become a pair of slim metal legs, moving slowly and evenly across the floor to the open door at the other end of the room.

“Shh,” Sam whispered, their voice still coming from just in front of her somehow as the cage continued to move itself out of the room. Danny complied, her breath catching in her throat as she did her very best not to imagine what it would be like to slide through the bars of the cage to the floor very, very far below her.

The cage crossed the grand entryway before heading further down a different hallway, making all sorts of twists and turns before it stopped in front of a huge door. 

As the cage finally stopped, the room's door swung open silently, and the cage proceeded inwards. They had entered a large, ornate bedroom, with a huge four-poster bed in the middle of it hung with silken curtains and draped with plush blankets. The room itself seemed as though it hadn’t seen much use in a while—Danny could almost see the giant-sized dust motes floating around in the air—but it was still so incredibly elaborate, it felt like a privilege to even look at. She’d never seen such fluffy pillows in all her life, even if they were the size of soft, feather-filled houses. 

The cage bent down slightly, its legs creaking and twisting to lower the part with Danny inside to the level of the bed. The door to the cage popped open, the lock and the subsequent need for a key apparently ignored. 

Danny didn’t stay trapped in frozen shock for long—she eagerly took the opportunity that had been presented to her, scampering out of the cage and stumbling onto the huge expanse of the giant-sized mattress, all but falling into the unbelievably soft blankets that waited for her. 

“Oh! And wait there. I’ll be right back.” The cage moved back out of the room and the door shut behind it. Danny only had a few minutes to sit there in shock before the door opened again, and this time, a rolling cart entered silently. As it got closer to the side of the bed, Danny could see that it was transporting a comically tiny tray of food nearly identical to the one that Christopher had offered earlier. There were a few more plates of various, equally tasty looking foods to go along with it—even a tiny, human-sized tin cup of water.

The cart rolled to a stop right next to the bed, close enough that Danny could easily walk onto it if she’d wanted to grab the food. 

“See? You’re a guest. Anything you want, you just have to ask.” 

Oh, anything I want, huh? “I want to leave,” Danny grumbled.

It almost looked like the cart sagged a little bit, its metal handles bending slightly inward as if it was saddened by her request. “Well, anything inside the house, anyways. Really, this place isn’t so bad once you get used to it.”

The lamp on the bedside table lit up suddenly, illuminating the room. “I’m gonna lock the door, uh, at least for tonight. That way you can have a little peace of mind for now. And remember, if you need anything, just shout! I don’t sleep, you know. And I’m sorry we don’t have any, well, smaller rooms, but if you need to get somewhere, I can help.” 

It seemed like it should be a trick—but even if it was, she was too tired and hungry to care. Besides, it wasn’t so bad to accept the generosity of someone who seemed genuinely friendly, even if they did seem to be working for the same guy who’d tossed her in a cage only a few hours ago.

“Okay. Um…thanks, Sam. Really, I appreciate it.” She eyed the food suspiciously. “Though something tells me your boss wouldn’t really like you doing all this for me.” 

There was a slight pause. “You ought to give him another chance. He’s not as bad as he seems.”

Danny gave Sam a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“Besides, he can’t get upset about you sleeping on a nice bed or getting a little food—you’re a guest! And besides, what’s he gonna do? FIRE me? HAHAHAhahaha—”

Sam’s laughter floated out of the room as the door shut behind them, disappearing down the hallway and leaving Danny seemingly alone again. 

She began to eat in grateful silence, ravenously stuffing as much food into her mouth as she could. It was all delicious, and not just because she was starving—genuinely, it was the best food she’d ever had in her life. All of this seemed a little too good to be true, but she didn’t care. Even if Sam did work for Christopher, at least they were nice. She still wasn’t sure what exactly was going to happen to her here—Sam suggesting that Christopher didn’t plan on doing anything malicious to her was not only hardly believable, it also didn’t answer any of her questions. 

But if she was going to spend the night alone in a strange place, worrying about Nathan and angry at Christopher, at least she could do it comfortably, on a full stomach. She was going to have to take whatever silver lining she possibly could. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

Next chapter ->

Danny's not the only one in need of a pep talk. I think Sam probably needs to chat with Christopher, too. Tune in next week for chapter 6: Lessons in Futility!

And thank you for reading!

#cursed cravings #itwom #itwom au #beauty and the beast au #gt writing #gt stories

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 2: Strange Hospitality

In which we return to the present day, where Danny finds a strange mansion in the woods while searching for her friend. Contains: ~2.8k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

The weather was not kind to Danny as she trudged through the woods, each footstep falling heavy and laboriously through the snow as she marched onward, fueled by a bitter spite towards whatever entity had decided she would not have an easy journey.

She couldn’t give up. The horse that Nathan had taken out of town this morning had returned, frightened and skittish, without him. It had taken all morning to calm it down enough to take out again. They had been traveling for so long that Danny had to walk beside it now, giving the poor horse a rest while he carried the meager supplies she’d scraped together at the last minute. 

She tried to follow the path Nathan should have taken towards the next town, keeping a vigilant eye out for any danger. All of his things had still been in the horse’s saddlebags, so it couldn’t have been bandits, right? Had the horse been spooked by a wild animal? Had they simply gotten separated? He would walk back the way he’d come if that was the case, wouldn’t he?

He’d look for shelter, or for someone to help. Maybe there’s a home somewhere along the way. 

Surely he’s alright. He has to be.

But Danny had traveled all day, and hadn’t seen a sign of Nathan anywhere on the road. No one she’d passed had seen anyone matching her description of Nathan, either, which only made her more and more anxious. The sun began to dip near the horizon, and the encroaching darkness brought with it a fresh wave of anxiety. She couldn’t turn back, not without Nathan. She had to find him.

“NATHAN!” she called out, desperately, hopelessly. She couldn’t just yell his name out here in the middle of nowhere and expect a response. She did it anyway. “NATE!” 

“Hello? Are you okay?” 

She stopped in her tracks abruptly, so surprised by the voice that she almost didn’t realize she’d heard one in the first place. It wasn’t Nathan—and she couldn’t quite place where it had come from. She whipped her head this way and that, but all she could see immediately were snow-covered trees. 

“Where are you?” she called out, against her better judgment. Strangers in the woods were usually things you tried to avoid, but she was desperate—she had to take her chances with anyone who could help her find her friend. 

She followed the voice’s direction a little further down the path, and to her left, hidden well amongst the trees and the snow, she finally saw it—a huge mansion surrounded by a large, iron gate, obviously the home of someone who was very rich and important. This far out in the woods, though? She supposed some of them must have homes out in the country for when they got bored of city life. 

The voice from earlier came again, but she still couldn’t see who its owner was. “You seem lost. Are you okay?” 

Oddly, she couldn’t tell if the voice even belonged to a man or a woman, not without a face to go with it. Even so, it sounded young, and…fairly trustworthy, or at least, feigning a genuine enough concern.

“I’m…I’m looking for a friend. He was traveling this way earlier today…his name is Nathan Hayes. Have you seen anyone, by chance?”

The voice didn’t reply for a moment. Danny moved closer to the gate, cautiously, searching the mansion’s grounds for anyone who could have spoken to her. And then, she watched in wonder as the gate swung open—almost of its own accord.

…maybe the wind blew it open?

“I think I can help you find your friend. Would you like to come inside?” 

There was absolutely no way in hell this wasn’t the same kind of setup as every nightmarish fairy tale Nathan had ever told her—getting lost in the woods, wandering into some strange house, and then getting eaten by a witch or chased by bears or cursed by some fairy queen. 

She glared at the gate with a very heavy dose of suspicion. “What makes you say that, huh? How can you help me find him?” 

Another pause. “Because I’ve seen him. Curly brown hair, freckles, green shirt, right?”

Danny felt her heart drop into her stomach. “T-that’s him! You’ve seen him? Where? When? And…where are you? Why can’t I see you?” 

“I’m inside,” the voice simply said—which frankly should have been a lie, because the front door to the mansion was pretty far down the path, and this voice was as clear as if it was right next to her. Danny, unfortunately, didn’t have a better explanation to refute the claim. “I can explain more if you come in? It’s getting late—you shouldn’t travel at night. It’s dangerous.” 

I can’t argue with that, she thought sullenly. Though it’s just as dangerous to trust strangers like you. There was no doubt, though, that this person—whoever they were—had seen Nathan, at least. Danny had no choice—she needed to accept whatever help this person had to offer, no matter how strange. She had nothing else to go on.

She took a deep breath and made her way to the opened gate, pulling her horse along.

The horse stopped before the gate, kicking up his hooves and letting out a frightened whinny, refusing to go any further towards the house.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay, Buddy! It’s okay.” Danny tried to soothe him, but it was useless—no amount of coaxing was going to get the horse to calm down, it seemed. She didn’t know what had gotten him so worked up—but it certainly didn’t make her feel any better about listening to the strange voice.

I don’t have a choice. I have to find Nathan.

She tied Buddy’s reins to the fencepost—lest he run off again and leave her stranded in the woods as well—before heading down the path alone.

The grounds of this mansion, now that she could get a closer look, seemed to be well-maintained. A fountain sat a short ways down, the water frozen over it in an icy, solid waterfall. Hedges lined the yard, covered in a heavy layer of snow. There were even what appeared to be topiary animals here and there.

Rich people really do have the weirdest hobbies. 

She finally reached the mansion itself—a hulking, obscenely elaborate building of dark stone and sharp, twisted spires, like a grand cathedral instead of a place someone actually lived in. Ivy crawled up the edges of the worn brick, giving the whole place the feeling of being terribly old. 

Danny had never been afforded many luxuries in life—the modest house on their farm was a luxury in and of itself. This was far beyond her understanding of how any normal person could live. How much money did a place like this even cost? 

She took a few more cautious steps towards the huge front doors, which loomed before her in all their ornate beauty. There were patterns carved into the wood, elaborate etchings that curled their way all the way down and around a pair of huge, equally elaborate brass door knockers. 

A shiver ran down her spine, but she wrote it off as a gust of winter wind that snapped at her then, rustling her traveling cloak in its wake. 

She reached out for one of the door knockers, but before her hand could touch it, the door opened wide towards her. 

It was dark inside of the house—too dark to see much besides some sort of entryway awaiting her, and what looked like a grand staircase further in. She didn’t see anyone on the other side, strangely. 

“Hello?” she called out, waiting on the porch for an answer. 

“Come in,” the voice insisted, friendly and bright. “Sorry it’s a little dark, I’ll get things lit up for you.”

The voice seemed to have floated further inside the house, and so, with one last, decisive breath, she decided to follow it, and stepped over the threshold.

And immediately, she fell flat on her face. 

Something had rushed to her head almost immediately that had caused such a spell of sudden dizziness—almost a vertigo of some sort, like she’d fallen from some great height instead of just walking into a house. The split-second flash of memory she had retained from before the fall was quickly brushed away, written off as the ridiculous concoction of a brain that didn’t have the capability to walk in a straight line.

She quickly rose to her feet in shame, straightening her cloak and looking around for anyone who would have beared witness to her fall.

Suddenly, though, embarrassment was the least of her concerns.

This was not the same house she’d seen from outside the open door—the tiles below her were the same, the entryway stood before her, yes, but the problem was that everything was built for a fucking giant. 

The edge of the floor tile she was on now stretched on—it had been small enough to step over in one stride, and now it seemed to be as wide as her whole house. The ceiling rose above her, taller than a grand cathedral, much taller than the outside of the building suggested. She thought that a mountain could fit within this space comfortably, and the more she looked up, the dizzier she became. She tried to avert her eyes to something that made sense, but everywhere she looked brought an even further sense of terror. Everything, every chair, every window, every door frame and odd object scattered about seemed to be designed for someone easily a hundred feet tall, maybe more. 

She found that she had frozen in place, and as she looked behind her frantically, as if to catch a glimpse of the outside world to see if she was in a crazy dream or not, she saw the door—now rising so far above her that it would have been an impossible feat to reach the door knocker from before—closed shut on its own.

As if to fight against the sudden lack of air in her lungs, she took in a forceful inhale of breath—though what to do with it, she hadn’t decided. Screaming didn’t seem productive, not yet, and she wasn’t sure whether she was angry at having been deceived, or simply awestruck at whatever magic she’d stumbled into. 

“Hey, hey! Don’t panic.”

“I am NOT panicking,” Danny gasped, almost sounding offended at the notion as she did her best to stifle the hysteria rising in her throat.

She still didn’t see anyone nearby—which, frankly, maybe she should be thankful for. Oddly, the strange voice didn’t seem to come from high above her, as she imagined it might have if it had belonged to a giant. It almost sounded as if it came from right beside her, like there was another person standing just to her right—but there was nothing, except for a huge, stone vase next to the door that held a bouquet of flowers that rose higher above her than any tree she’d ever seen.

“It’s okay. I know it’s…a little weird.” 

“A-a little weird? You’ve got to be fucking with me,” Danny muttered, her eyes still casting about the room as though it might make sense the longer she took it all in. “What kind of crazy-ass house is this?” 

“It was built about three hundred years ago, and takes some influence from Baroque design-”

“I’m talking about the GIANT FUCKING EVERYTHING,” Danny blurted out, waving her arms around as if maybe the owner of the voice needed help seeing what she did. “How the fuck is this possible?”

“Uh…magic?” the voice supplied, semi-helpfully. 

Danny sighed, relinquishing the breath they’d taken in a weary, frazzled exhale. They couldn’t argue with that.

She gasped as a series of lamps far above her along the walls lit themselves up along the inside of the room, illuminating the space even more. She’d almost not noticed it from her vantage point earlier, but there was a gigantic staircase a ways ahead of her in the middle of the room, made of dark wood with a red fabric runner going down its length and spilling out onto the floor at the bottom. It rose up to the second level of the house, its railings intricately carved and oiled, with enormous wooden birds of a species she didn’t recognize adorning the bottom of the railing like perched gargoyles. A huge chandelier lit up directly above her as well, dripping with fine crystal far above like the stars in the sky had formed into one dazzling constellation. 

She stared in awe, a little of the initial shock making way for what might have been amazement. It truly was grand, and far fancier than anything she’d ever seen before. If only she didn’t have to crane her neck to actually see half of it—and if only she wasn’t also given the new and rather unwelcome perspective of what a bug might see before it was unceremoniously crushed under someone’s heel.

“It’s a real nice place, isn’t it?” 

The voice no longer came from her right, but from her other side—though, unsurprisingly at this point, there was nothing there but a small (relative to the house, not to her) table. 

“Y-yeah, it’s uh, it’s pretty fancy,” she relented, trying to settle her frantic heartbeat with what she’d come here for in the first place. “So, can you tell me what you know about Nathan? Do you know if he’s okay? Where are you?” She wondered if she would have to go wandering in this giant house—if this strange person was up the stairs or on the far side of the house, it could easily be a grand adventure of multiple days just to reach them, at her size. “Are you a…giant?”

“Nathan’s fine, he’s alright. And uh, no, I’m not a giant. But can I just say, you’re taking this really well so far.”

A few things seemed to rustle about, like a wind blew through an open window into the room. But none of the windows were open, so what made the curtains move like that?

“So…where is he? Is he here? Can you take me to him?”

Another chill ran down her spine like an ill omen, and she didn’t have to wait long to figure out what such a premonition had warned her of. She could hear, just around the corner, the sound of hulking, huge footsteps, moving slowly towards the room she was in now.

A giant.

“Can you do me just one favor?” the voice whispered, and it felt now as though the invisible person stood right next to her ear. It sent a fresh wave of chills down her skin, raising goosebumps along it, and she stood silently, frozen in place. “I’ll help you find Nathan as long as you don’t scream when you see this guy.” 

“W-when I see who?” Danny muttered harshly, her head beginning to frantically turn this way and that as she looked for the danger her body warned her about, her heart’s tempo increasing with every second. 

“The master of the house,” the voice said simply. Danny felt a sudden, almost tangible absence then—as if there really had been some sort of invisible person beside them, and they’d just…disappeared. 

She steeled herself for what she was about to see, doing her best to quiet the rising panic inside of her as the footsteps grew closer. It felt almost as though each step shook the whole place, though certainly that was only due to how utterly dwarfed she was by everything. It was like she could feel the vibrations of each step in her chest as the sound echoed hollowly in the huge, empty house. 

And then he made his appearance around the corner from a room further down, his eyes landing squarely and immediately on her—though as he caught sight of her, he remained standing where he was, as if he was simply observing her from a distance.

The man appeared to be young, not much older than her, with a slender, willowy frame and sharp, dark eyes. His dark black hair was done up in an elegant but simple updo, his hair twisted around on each side of his face and collected in a bun in the back. He wore a brocaded burgundy waistcoat atop a loose, white shirt—everything about him suggested an air of wealth and sophistication that fit the house he resided in. 

That, of course, and the fact that he was at least a hundred fucking feet tall. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

Next Chapter ->

You've all seen the movie, so surely you all know it's going to go well in the next chapter, right?

Thanks for reading, and see you next week with chapter 3, Master of the House!

#cursed cravings #itwom #itwom au #beauty and the beast au #g/t writing #g/t stories #g/t vore #vore writing #vore stories #nonsexual vore #sfw vore #soft vore

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 4: Small Mercies

In which the deal is made, and Christopher sends Nathan on his way. Contains: ~1.5k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

Danny’s heart was racing as Christopher sauntered seemed further into the house without another word, towards the room he’d come from originally—having placed another hand beneath the one that held Danny, holding her close to his chest. Until she saw Nathan for sure, until she was able to confirm his wellbeing with her own eyes, she couldn’t focus on the predicament she’d landed herself in, or the unknown threat of what was to come once she was alone with this giant. She only wanted to see her friend again—after spending an entire day worrying whether or not he was even alive, it would be enough to put her fears to rest.

Christopher turned the corner into a huge room filled with ornate furnishings—chairs and chaises covered in plush fabric and gold filigree sitting atop a wide, expensive-looking rug the color of fresh blood. There were so many things that made an attempt to pull Danny’s attention toward them that she almost didn’t see what they were heading towards, at the far end of the room against the wall.

An elaborate golden cage sat atop several equally elaborate, thin golden legs—she thought that perhaps it could have been a birdcage at one point, though it held nothing of the sort inside of it.

Her friend sat in the middle of the cage, dwarfed many times over by the size of his gilded prison. The bars sat far enough apart that Nathan could have squeezed between them easily, but the simple fact that the cage sat at chest height with their giant host was enough to discourage a jump down to the floor. 

“NATHAN!” Danny cried, twisting as much as she could to try and face him properly, scowling as her attempts were met with the stubborn resistance of Christopher’s fist, which only seemed to tighten around her. “ARE YOU OKAY?” 

She had to shout—for even if this giant fuck had seemed to be able to hear her from the floor earlier, Nathan’s ears were surely not as sharp, and the distance between them now seemed as vast as an ocean, though they were only a room apart—a few strides by the giant’s measure. 

Nathan cowered in the middle of the cage, his knees pulled up to his chest, but when he heard Danny’s voice he stood up abruptly, rushing toward the bars of the cage in front of him and gripping them tightly. “Danny!” he called, though his voice seemed weaker than she remembered, strained with a tight and asphyxiating fear. “W-what are you…what are you doing here?” 

“She’s come to take your place,” Christopher said simply, closing the distance to the cage and taking a key from his pocket—one that seemed almost for show, given the size of the cage and the fact that he likely could have plucked Nathan from between its bars. 

“Wh…Danny, no!” Nathan shook and trembled, his face gripped with terror all of a sudden, his knuckles turning white as they held the cage even tighter. “You can’t!” 

Danny’s face fell as she looked to him, a weight plunging into her chest and awakening a deep and caustic anger within her. Nathan didn’t look any worse for wear physically, but she’d never seen him so shaken before. He was quivering harshly, all color drained from his features. 

“Did he do something to you?” she snarled, the edges of her vision becoming tinged in red. 

Christopher didn’t give Nathan a chance to respond, unlocking the cage and reaching in to grab him—despite Nathan’s attempt at dodging the giant’s grip. 

Nathan didn’t answer her question—instead, he began to beg with the giant that held him. “No, please! I’ll stay! I’ll stay here, just let her leave!” Tears began to well up in Nathan’s eyes as he pleaded, weakly succumbing to Christopher’s hold as the giant brought him out of the cage, closing his fingers around him.

“A deal’s a deal,” Christopher said, his voice almost devoid of emotion entirely. It infuriated Danny beyond belief—that her rage and Nathan’s despair almost seemed invisible to this bastard, that neither seemed able to reach him. 

Oh, she would make him hear her. She had no plans to just give up, but she couldn’t risk Nathan’s safety. He had to get out safely, before Christopher changed his mind.

After that, all bets were off.

“Nathan, just get out, please. Buddy’s tied up outside with supplies, just take him and get as far away as you can.” Danny’s voice was tense and sharp as she tried to keep it steady. She felt just a hair away from blowing up, from doing her very best to claw deep, bloody wounds into Christopher’s skin.

“I can’t just leave you here!” Nathan whimpered. “You can’t…you can’t…”

Christopher set Danny inside the cage, her body finally free from the giant’s grip as it fell against the cold metal beneath her. She forced herself to remain still there, though every nerve in her body wanted to rush forward, to jump through the bars at the giant and scream, to tear something apart. She tried to meet Nathan’s eyes as best she could as Christopher stuck the key in the lock of her cage.

“I’ll be fine, Nate. Just go.” Her eyes burned with resolve and desperation. Please. Please just go. Please be safe.

Nathan choked on his words, still trembling in the giant’s grip as Christopher turned to leave. “How long will you k-keep her here? You can’t…you can’t keep her f-forever!” 

Christopher gave a short laugh, as if this was all some mildly amusing joke. Danny glared daggers into his back as he walked away. “Oh, not forever. A month should be sufficient for her to repay your debt.” 

He probably thinks we should be grateful for that, doesn’t he? Fucker. 

“A-a month?” Nathan squeaked, but if he said anything else, Danny didn’t catch it—they’d already turned the corner and left her alone in that room, seething in her pretty, barren prison. 

Her home for the next month, apparently. 

Even if all the poison in her gaze could have actually melted the golden bars before her, it would still be a long way to the floor—escape, at least for the moment, seemed rather futile. She tried to keep the anger stoked within her, lest she crumble under the weight of what was starting to feel like complete, crushing hopelessness. 

At least Nathan’s safe. That’s all that matters.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Christopher made long, slow strides to the front door, his mind turning over thoughts as he did so—almost forgetting about the man in his grip entirely in the process. He had no use for Nathan anymore—certainly not with how frightened and timid the man had become since the events of this morning. He’d intended to let this man go free tomorrow morning anyways—the month of debt had been made up by him on the spot for Danny—but he couldn’t risk keeping Nathan here with Danny overnight, especially not if he was to keep up the ruse he’d concocted to get her to agree to stay. He couldn’t let her learn what was eventually going to happen to her, or she would become just as unresponsive and terrified as Nathan was now. Besides, she’d said she had brought supplies, so he would likely be fine on the trip back home.

He’d of course planned to keep her here regardless—he couldn’t afford to pass up any human that managed to find his home like this. His curse, unfortunately, demanded it. He’d come up with many lies and excuses over the years, finding it easier on his conscience to pretend that there was a legitimate reason for him to keep people here, giving them some false sense of hope that his intentions weren’t malicious. He’d played every role possible over the past decade as part of the charade—the hospitable host, the awful monster, the charismatic captor, even just being completely honest with them—and yet the result in the end was always the same. 

They would all despise him. And his curse would still be intact.

“A-are you going to do to her w-what you…what you did to me?” the man whimpered in his grip, bringing his focus back to reality as he stopped at the entrance of the house. “Please, y-you can’t…” 

Christopher set Nathan down on the floor in front of the closed doors, bending down on his haunches to speak to him. “I don’t have use for her yet,” he spoke, thoughtfully. It was fortunate she’d come just after he had finished with this one—it gave him more time to plan, before the curse ate away at him again. Not that it would make a difference—he had very little hope that she would be the exception that broke the spell. He didn’t dare get his hopes up. “She’ll return within the month. She will be safe and cared for. You don’t need to worry about her.” 

Before Nathan could speak again, he touched the top of the man’s head with a few fingers, concentrating on the little magic he’d been given as part of the enchantress’s cruel deal. At least there was a glimmer of goodwill amidst the horror—for Christopher’s victims, anyways. He’d done this many, many times before.

“You just need to head home,” Christopher murmured, an almost hypnotic tone to his voice as it became laced with magic. “You won’t remember what happened here, and you won’t remember this place. Danny will be back within a month.”

Nathan’s eyes glassed over as a listless expression fell upon his face, and he almost swayed a little on his feet. “Yes…I’m fine. I’ll head home. Danny’s fine. She’ll be back.” 

Christopher rose to his feet and pushed the door open, allowing Nathan to step over the threshold and leave. The outside world looked to Christopher to be the same size as it always was, giving the illusion that he was still normal. He used to think of it as a pleasant way to distract himself from his reality every now and then, opening the door to pretend, but now he only regarded it as a cruel trick. 

As Nathan stepped over the doorframe—the line that Christopher could not cross—he rose to Christopher’s height, although he didn’t even turn around to notice the effect of the illusion. His feet fumbled slightly, but he still walked away, as if magically imbued with the inclination to continue on.

Christopher looked away. A twinge of guilt in his chest began to eat away at him. He took a folded note from his waistcoat’s pocket, and held it out in front of him. “Sam, take this to him, please.” 

An invisible force plucked the note from his hands and blew it out the door. The letter, unlike Nathan, seemed to remain at the same size as it flew in front of him, forcing itself into Nathan’s hands.

At this, Nathan turned to look at Christopher, a look not of horror, but simple confusion. 

Christopher forced himself to remain composed. “That should help to sustain you for the next month while Danny remains here.” 

Nathan unfolded it and his eyes widened at the amount he saw there, looking between the note and Christopher in shock. “T-thank you!” he exclaimed giddily, a wide smile breaking out on his freckled face as he gave Christopher a slight bow. He shambled away from the house without a care at all, his memories freshly rinsed of all the unpleasantness he’d endured while being held as Christopher’s captive.

You don’t have to remember the monster, Christopher thought. I’m the only one who has to bear that burden.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Next chapter ->

Well, that's that. Now what's in store for Danny?

Thanks for reading! Next week is Chapter 5, Poltergeist - and I hope you're just as excited for that one as I am!

#cursed cravings #itwom #beauty and the beast au #vore writing #vore stories #g/t stories #g/t writing #g/t vore #nonsexual vore #sfw vore #soft vore #safe vore #itwom au

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 7: Quest for Answers

In which Danny does her best to learn more about her new living situation from a smug giant and a cheery, possessed house. Contains: ~2.2k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

Danny wasn’t disturbed the next morning as she expected to be—whether it be from Christopher coming to rectify Sam’s mistake and return her to her cage, or for her to learn what it meant for her “service” to be required. Instead, she was free to lie amongst the blankets that spanned a bed larger than anything she could have ever imagined before. She had no issues with her toes sticking out from under the covers, or rolling too far towards the edge of the bed in the middle of the night—and she certainly didn’t have any problems involving not having enough blankets to keep her warm. 

If it hadn’t been for the latent anxiety pestering her all night, she was sure she would have gotten the best sleep of her life.

She was content to lie there as the sun came up—not that she had much of a choice. She supposed she could call for Sam to help her down, but where would she go? What would she do? It was much more pleasant to submit to this small amount of comfort amidst a sea of uncertainty and fear.

As if he could sense this comfort of hers and absolutely could not let her have even this small moment of peace, she heard a set of giant footsteps approach her room, followed by a knock at the door. 

“May I come in?” 

Danny glared at the door. Asking for permission. Cute. “No.”

There was a pause, a silent moment of the giant possibly contemplating his next course of action, before the doorknob turned and the door opened ever so slightly. She rolled her eyes and flipped over in bed, facing away from Christopher as he entered. Of course he was just gonna come in anyways. Why did he even ask?

She half-expected to be picked up and dragged from under the sheets, but to her surprise, Christopher seemed to stop just before the bed, and she remained where she was.

“What do you want?” she growled, still stubbornly facing away from him.

“An apolog–ah!” Christopher’s sentence was cut off by a small yelp of pain, which intrigued Danny enough to turn around and give him an amused smirk. He seemed to be rubbing his ankle with a withering glare directed towards the rug.

He placed something down on the nightstand next to Danny—a human-sized tray of breakfast food. She looked slowly between it and the giant, narrowing her eyes in such a way that it suggested she was calculating the necessary velocity to toss it at him again.

Almost as if he could sense her intent, he took a courteous step backwards. “What I meant to say was, I brought you something to eat.” He spoke in the same stilted manner as someone who was mildly annoyed that they had a knife held to their neck.

She just glared at him silently, filling the dead air between them with the meager weight of her animosity. Silence, at least, would have the same impact on a giant as it would on a human. 

Christopher stared back at her with a much more dead-eyed expression, like she was boring him more than anything. He gave her a curt nod. “I’ll leave you be.”

He turned to exit the room, but as he did so, she found herself breaking the silence and calling out after him. “Hey!” 

He stopped in place, but didn’t turn to face her. 

She sat up in bed, crossing her arms. “Stay here for a minute. I’ve got a few questions for you, bastard.”

Sam said give him a chance, right? Fine. This is me, giving this fucker a chance.

Christopher turned around and met her eyes again, although this time, the seeming apathy was replaced with…surprise, and even a hint of amusement as a small grin crept up his face. He pulled a nearby chair up next to the bed, and sat down a respectable distance from Danny, folding his hands into his lap. “Well, I’ll try to answer as best as I can, doll.” 

“Danny,” she corrected him, already beginning to regret extending an olive branch. “First. I want to know what you did to Nathan yesterday, when he came here. He was terrified, and I’m still not buying your fucking story about him ‘trespassing.’ Did you hurt him?”

She kept her voice even, though there was enough deadly venom laced in her tone to drive an unspoken point home. 

Christopher blinked a few times, like this was an odd question somehow. “...no, I didn’t hurt him. A lot of people are…frightened of me simply due to my size, and I imagine your friend was one of them. Nathan is perfectly fine, I assure you.” 

Danny’s eyes flicked mercilessly over the giant’s face for any hint of deception, finding the inscrutable, seemingly sincere expression nearly impossible to read. She didn’t want to believe him, even if what he was suggesting was the best possible explanation in terms of Nathan’s wellbeing.

For now, she’d have to take his word on it. She could question Nathan when she got back home.

“...you say that, but you sent him off in the middle of winter, at night, alone. Not only that, but he’s having to take care of the whole house by himself for a month. How do I even know he made it back okay?” Her voice broke—speaking it aloud made her realize her fears even clearer, and it made her heart clench in fear. 

Christopher returned her worries with what appeared to be a genuinely sympathetic look. “I had someone make sure he arrived back home safely. And,” he grinned, “because I’m so generous, I’ve arranged for a small donation to be made that should tide your friend over through your absence. I’m not heartless, Danny.” 

She found the suggestion laughable. “Generous? You’re keeping me prisoner here. Why the fuck are you helping us? Isn’t this supposed to be some sort of punishment?” 

Christopher sat up a little straighter in his chair, although she caught what seemed to be a sort of weariness to his posture. “There are simply rules that must be followed. I don’t delight in torment. Only one person needs to repay the debt that is owed—there is no need to punish further than that.” 

She snarled back at him unkindly, loathing the impersonal, matter-of-fact way he spoke about punishment and rules in such a way that it almost seemed to make sense—when in fact, keeping her prisoner here for Nathan’s “trespassing” was actually insanity. 

But if what Christopher was saying was true, then she could at least put the thought of Nathan struggling on his own out of her head…somewhat. Surely, he would still be worried sick, frightened, and alone.

It’s just a month. That’s all. 

“So what am I expected to do here, exactly?” This was the real mystery to her—what, honestly, could a human even do in a place so large?

“Sam will be the one to direct you on what needs to be done. I expect they will be here shortly.” He stood up, and nodded towards her with a cordial bow of his head and a placid grin. “Until then, be well, and enjoy your breakfast.”

“Hey, wait!” 

Her protest didn’t stop him this time—Christopher turned and left the way he’d come, leaving her alone with the tray of food nearby. She regarded the door he closed behind him curiously, somehow more confused about the giant than when she’d first sat him down to ask her questions. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

She hoped that she’d finally get some answers from Sam, who rolled into the room a while later as the same cart from yesterday once she’d finished her tray of food. “Hey, Danny, good morning! How did you sleep?” 

“I’m…fine, thanks, Sam,” she grumbled. “So you’re gonna tell me what I’m supposed to be doing here, right?” 

“Well…look, Christopher’s just a little old-fashioned about that whole ‘working off your debt’ thing. It’s just a formality. My advice? Just ride it out for a month and then you can, y’know, be on your way and everything.” 

Irritation bristled across her skin. “So I’m not even supposed to do anything? Are you serious? Nathan’s going to be on his own for a month while I just sit here?” 

The rolling cart almost shrugged with the way its metal handle bent inward. “I mean, I guess I could have you clean something if you really wanted to, but I’ve kinda got things covered. We could do something fun instead.” 

“Fun?” she scoffed. “Yeah, sure. And what is there to do for fun around here, exactly?” 

“Well…” the cart moved a little back and forth, like someone rocking on the balls of their feet. “There’s all kinds of stuff in this house that the family’s collected over the years. Most of it’s just gathering dust now, but I’ve had plenty of time to familiarize myself with everything. I could show you around the place!” 

Danny wasn’t sure how something without a face or limbs could seem excited, but the cart seemed to give off such childish glee at the idea that she couldn’t stay irritated for long. She sighed. “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. Sure, Sam.” 

Before she knew it, Danny was riding on top of the cart as it wheeled around the house, going down seemingly endless corridors as Sam gave Danny a personal, very detailed tour of every single painting, bust, and random piece of furniture they came across. Danny didn’t understand half of what Sam went on and on about, but she couldn’t find it in herself to interrupt their enthusiastic narration. There was something almost…calming about it, in a strange way.

Halfway through a monologue about a fancy fruit bowl’s significance in belonging to the ruler of a now-dead civilization, Sam stopped themselves. “Sorry,” they mumbled sheepishly. “I know I’m going on and on. I just haven’t had anyone to talk to like this in a while.”

Danny chuckled lightly. “No, you’re fine. I guess this beats cleaning floors.” She chewed idly on her bottom lip as she considered the rest of what Sam said. “Have you and Christopher…really been alone here? He doesn’t, like, invite people over or anything? No family?”

The cart began to roll down the hallway, although it moved at a much more somber pace than before. “Christopher’s parents died a long time ago. He doesn’t have any other family. And, well…you can imagine how hesitant most people are to visit the home of a giant.” 

The wind that whistled quietly outside sounded eerily like Sam sighing. “He’s been alone here for a long time.” 

“Sounds lonely as fuck,” Danny muttered. Sam didn't reply, but she could feel a silent weight to the air that felt like agreement. 

Her face scrunched up in confusion. “How did that even happen, anyways? Him being a giant? How does he like…get out and walk around?”

“Uh…somewhat complicated to answer, but the long and short of it is that Christopher can’t leave the house. It’s a…spell. The same one that makes it look small from the outside.”

Danny didn’t think she was going to get a better answer on why there was a giant living out in the middle of the woods. Her thoughts turned to something almost bordering sympathy—thinking of how miserable it must be to be stuck out here by yourself, not even able to leave your house. Even if your house was this massive and full of so many comforts most people could never dream of. From her perspective, already dwarfed by the smallest of things in it, the mansion started to seem…lonely. 

Her mind then turned to how such a thing would work on a practical level. “How does he get food, if he can’t leave the house? Do people, like, deliver stuff here?” 

Sam’s next pause somehow seemed a little more awkward than the ones before. “The kitchen is actually magically stocked. But, uh, giants don’t really need to eat food like most people do, so it’s a little useless unless we have guests. Like you!” 

So I’ve been eating…magical grapes? She shook her head, almost distracting herself from a stranger revelation. “He doesn’t need to eat at all?” 

“Nope.” 

“...huh.” Danny wasn’t exactly learned in science, but something about that notion didn’t make sense to her. “How is that even possible?” she asked the temporarily sentient trolley cart who she was riding on through the massive hallways of a magical, giant mansion. 

The cart shrugged as much as such a thing could. “Don’t ask me. That’s just how it works.”

After that, the conversation diverted to much more mundane things, and Sam became much more interested in explaining things not related to giants—like the identity of a heavily mustached man in a painting further down the hall, and the fabric that the rug beneath them was made of coming from some far-off land, and actually it was quite a funny story how the family came into possession of it, and it all started with a dispute over chicken ownership—

Danny listened along, even though she couldn’t help but feel as though there was something in the conversation earlier that Sam had tried to avoid—she just couldn’t figure out what. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

Next chapter ->

Sam's not done with the tour yet! Do you think they'd pass up an opportunity to force Christopher and Danny to interact? Just wait for next week's chapter 8, Judging by the Cover!

Thank you for reading!

#cursed cravings #itwom #itwom au #beauty and the beast au #gt writing #gt stories #vore writing #vore stories #gt vore #sfw vore #nonsexual vore

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 6: Lessons in Futility

In which Christopher gets a talking-to from Sam. Contains: ~1.5k words Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

Christopher had retired to his bedroom for the night after his attempt to feed Danny, preferring to sulk in isolation—not that such a thing had ever been hard to come by for him. There had been many times over the years where he might forget that he had someone else in his home at all, if it weren’t for the fact that this awful, grotesque form could smell them so well, even from across the entire house. Even when he tucked himself away upstairs, Danny’s scent was still entwined faintly in his senses.

Thanks to Danny’s friend, he’d done what he had to do this morning to keep the curse at bay, so the pain in his stomach wasn’t so bad yet. It was tolerable—just the gentlest of reminders that he was fucked, instead of the overwhelming ocean of misery it would eventually become. 

He had another week or two, at least, before he drowned again.

The days that immediately followed when he did it were always when his mind felt clearest. And this time, he didn’t have to worry about when he’d find the next person, or if he would at all, and how long he’d have to endure the pain of that infernal magic eating away at his insides and demanding, always demanding more. 

So, in the absence of that usual anxiety, he was left with the much more uncomfortable prospect of the longer term, and the grimness that was his future. Or what was left of it, anyways.

She certainly won’t be the one to end this. 

In the midst of his gloomy rumination, he thought he could hear something downstairs, though he assumed it was just Sam. If there was actually trouble, Sam would alert him. He didn’t particularly want to confront Danny again yet if it wasn’t necessary. There was a chance he could get her to tolerate his presence if he took things slowly—offered her nicer accommodations in return for a more cooperative attitude, perhaps.

Despite his windows being very firmly shut, a breeze blew through the room, raising the hair on his arms slightly. His eyes idly scanned about as he laid back on his bed. “Is there a problem, Sam?” 

“Oh, no, no problem at all. I just thought I’d check on you, let you know I put Danny in the guest room, see if you wanted any tea-”

Christopher sat up in bed immediately, halting Sam’s blatant attempt at skipping past some particularly crucial information. “You what?” 

“Well, you usually like chamomile before bed, so I-”

“No, no. Don’t you try this with me right now,” Christopher muttered darkly, his eyes scanning futilely around the room in search of where his manservant’s voice had come from. Sam’s voice had floated around the room without giving him a place for his eyes to land on, so he chose to glare at a suspiciously sheepish curtain. “You put her in the guest room without asking me first?” 

“You wouldn’t have said yes anyways,” the curtain protested. 

“What if she tries to escape?” Not to mention this throws my whole plan out the window if Sam’s already let her out of that cage. I can only offer so many incentives for her to not actively hate me.

“Dude, it’s still a giant room. She can’t even get off the bed without help. I’m gonna check on her all the time, and I don’t sleep. You know that.” 

Christopher growled, mostly annoyed that Sam was right. Even so, he shook some of the blankets off of him with an irritated jerk of his arm. “I’m going to go put her back.” 

The curtain inflated a little, almost as if it was smug. “No, you aren’t. I locked her door. Give it a rest for tonight, or I’ll lock yours too.” 

“Sam, you’re forgetting your place.” It was hard to muster up any sort of authority, however, when there wasn’t anyone to actually aim his withering gaze at. 

“I am the place, Chris.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.” Christopher sighed, too tired to argue, knowing it wasn’t an argument he would ever win. Not when his manservant was an incorporeal spirit that could slip a rug out from under him or lock him in his own room on a whim. He was just lucky that Sam was usually incredibly loyal to him. 

Sam didn’t respond, leaving Christopher with the conversational equivalent of a brick wall to argue with. He flopped back down onto the bed, defeated. 

The lamp on his nightstand turned itself on, the flame flickering weakly. “You know, you should try being nicer to Danny. I think there’s a real shot of breaking our curse with her. She did technically volunteer to stay here willingly. Plus, she’s actually pretty nice.” 

Christopher gave the lamp a weary, dead-eyed stare. “Did you see the way she talked to me? She wouldn’t even eat the food I made for her earlier. She threw it at me. I don’t have a chance.” He stared blankly at the ceiling, a decade-long weariness settling into his bones. “She didn’t scream, but she still thinks I’m a monster. It’s no different than all the others.” 

A pillow from beside him rose with a vengeance and smacked him square in the face. He sat up again, glaring at the offending, seemingly innocent pillow. “Sam, I swear to god, I will-”

“THAT was your idea of ‘nice’ earlier? Really?” 

Christopher sighed bitterly. “Well then, since you’ve got it all figured out, what would you suggest that we haven’t tried already, a million times before?” 

“Well, I’ve already gotten the first step out of the way for you, giving her a nicer place to stay than a cage. You’re welcome. Maybe you could try, y’know, talking to her? Ask her about her hobbies, her family, whatever. Just try and think about how you’d like to be treated if you were in her place.” 

“That never works anyways,” he said with a grimace. “You know it doesn’t.”

“You have to TRY.” 

Christopher rolled his eyes. “She won’t talk to me, Sam. You’re delusional if you think she’s going to be the one to break my curse.” 

“OUR curse, may I remind you. And may I also remind you that the deadline for that is-”

“I know,” Christopher growled, letting out a bit more irritation than he’d intended. His face fell slightly as he sighed. Time passed so agonizingly slowly and yet, the deadline that Sybil had given him was approaching so soon. A month. That’s all they had left, before he was doomed to be a fucking giant forever. It already seemed like forever, anyways. Ten years of this? He could hardly remember being human, eating real food, laughing with friends and hosting parties—a time before he had to hide a set of grotesque horns with his hair every morning. It was like the distant dreams of a different person entirely, tinged with a hazy light but not entirely real. 

He could almost feel Sam draw back, their voice quieter now as the flame of the lamp died down slightly as well. “Pardon me for saying so, but it doesn’t even feel like you’ve been…trying, anymore. We have this perfect opportunity waltz up to our door right before we reach the deadline, and you’re just going to…give up?” 

“What’s the point?” Christopher whispered. He should have been angrier at Sam for saying something so brazen, but he couldn’t find the words to argue with them. He wasn’t the only one cursed, anyways—Sam had also paid the price for Christopher’s mistake, and had done nothing to deserve it but remain by his side when everyone else had fled. But at least Sam didn’t have to deal with the awful burden he did—and when they were doomed to live with this condition for the rest of their lives, at least Sam would be free of the pain he would have to endure. 

“She might be the last one, you know. Before the deadline. We might not get another chance.” 

Christopher’s lips tightened into a fine line. He said nothing.

“...just try, tomorrow. She might surprise you, you know.”

Christopher felt the room get a little emptier as Sam’s presence left, extinguishing the flame on their way out, and he was left with nothing but darkness and his thoughts. There’s no point. She’s not going to give me permission to eat her, especially when I can’t even MENTION the curse itself. That goddamn witch only gave me that stipulation to make a mockery of me. She just wanted to see me suffer for the rest of my life.

He had a week or two, at most, before he would get hungry enough to be forced to eat Danny. It was, admittedly, more time than he usually had—most humans, like the man from yesterday, only wandered by when he’d long since passed the point of desperation. He still didn’t think there was a chance, even if he managed to improve his relations with her in such a short timespan. Why would he go through the effort of being nice and gaining her trust when he’d just have to eat her anyways? It would only make it harder for him when he reached the end of the limit on his hunger. 

It was better that she hated him. Hatred made him feel less guilty about what he’d have to do eventually. 

It had always been harder when they thought that they could trust him, only to have that trust shattered when they were betrayed by the monster in the end. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

Next chapter ->

How will the next day go, I wonder? I guess we'll have to see in Chapter 7, Quest for Answers! Thank you all for reading!

I would have posted earlier, but there was a total eclipse today. I was a bit preoccupied!

Thank you, as always, for reading!

#cursed cravings #itwom #itwom au #beauty and the beast au #gt writing #gt stories #vore writing #vore stories #gt vore

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 8: Judging by the Cover

In which Danny gets a look at Christopher's library. Contains: 1.6k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

“I’ve saved the best for last.” 

After almost an entire day of being dragged around the mansion, with a merciful break to eat another well-prepared meal from Sam, the cart rolled to a stop in front of a set of grand double doors. 

Danny gave the doors a skeptical raise of her eyebrow. They were big, sure, but they didn’t look much different than the rest of the mansion, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand to listen to stories about how these rich people had gotten their fancy things from other rich people in what seemed to be a never-ending cycle of showing off to each other about it, even if Sam had made some of the stories a little more entertaining. 

“This is the library. It’s HUGE, and I don’t just mean that because all the books are twice your size. There’s hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Penn family, big book people.” 

Danny’s eyes widened. Books? Those were something of a rarity to her—she was certain there was someone who sold books in town, but she had always been too busy working with the animals, or in the garden, or in the kitchen to bother with a hobby like that. 

“Uh…yeah, I haven’t exactly…gotten the chance to, uh, read a lot of books.” 

She could almost feel the cart vibrate with excitement. “Then you are gonna get the socks knocked off of you when you see this. Anything you wanna read about, I guarantee he’s got it.” 

“Sam, wait-” 

Danny’s protests were cut short as the doors to the library opened and the cart zipped inside. 

It was just as Sam had said—the place was enormous, with rows and rows of books as tall as trees lined up from the floor to the ceiling. Her head craned backwards as she followed the sight up and up, any remark she’d previously had ready long since swallowed by her amazement. “W…woah. Where the hell do you even start?” 

The cart eagerly rolled on forward. “Well, you could certainly start with the factual stuff, y’know, history, encyclopedias, stuff like that. That’s all this section here,” they said, not bothering to slow down as they passed the section in question. “But that’s boring. My favorite’s over here.” 

They whizzed past a few more rows of books, and then Sam rolled to a stop, proudly gesturing towards the shelf they stopped in front of with a dainty flourish of the cart’s metal handle. “See? Fiction!” 

Danny laughed. “...fiction?” 

“Yeah, like…made-up stories. It’s got everything. Here.” A sturdy book was plucked off the shelf and floated through the air next to the cart, motioning for Danny to step onto it. Not looking at the ground below it, she cautiously stepped over the edge of the cart and placed her weight on the book’s cover, which had an elaborate, gilded design adorning it. It slowly lowered itself to the ground with Danny on it, allowing her to step off and onto the tile floor. 

Another book flew off the shelf and landed next to her—the pages flipped quickly before landing on one of the inside illustrations, which seemed to depict some sort of wooden puppet at sea, sailing away from an enormous, monstrous whale. She barely had time to process it before another book set itself down on her other side, this one bearing a cover of a handsome knight fighting a fire-breathing dragon. More and more books began to pile up in rapid succession, until Danny had become trapped within an ever-increasing mountain of literature. 

“Hey! Sam! Slow down, wait.” She took a deep breath, and then muttered, quietly, “listen, I…I can’t read.” 

The erratic book-flinging halted to a stop, one book in midair sheepishly putting itself back into place on the shelf. “Oh.” 

“Did you just say you can’t read?” 

The giant footsteps had escaped her notice until they were too close to evade. She scowled. “Sam!” she whispered harshly, suddenly getting the feeling that the spirit had abandoned her. That little punk. Did they do this on purpose?

She glared upwards and saw Christopher looking down at her from over the stack of books that surrounded her. “None of your fucking business, bastard. For the record, I’ve had to work twice as hard as you’ll ever work just to keep me and Nathan fed. Reading wasn’t exactly high on the priority list.” 

Christopher tilted his head, regarding her with what appeared to be a genuinely curious expression. “I’ve never met someone who didn’t know how to read before.” 

A book smacked him in the back of the head.

“Ow!” He rubbed his head and looked around futilely for Sam, before sighing with a single, drawn-out breath. He glanced down toward the books near Danny again and picked one off the top of the pile, turning it back and forth as he considered the cover.

From what little she could see, it appeared to be quite pretty, with delicate gold details on the front and a tower of some kind, with the illustration of a long braid of golden hair running along its spine. 

“This is a good one,” Christopher mused. “I could…” 

He looked away for a moment, tossing something in his head with a conflicted expression before he looked back to Danny. “...read it to you, if you’d like?” 

Danny raised a single eyebrow. She had a snarky retort all lined up, but she found herself pausing as she looked at the book in the giant’s hands. She’d never had the opportunity to read before, but she did like stories. Nathan used to tell her some that he’d heard from his family. Her heart ached at the memory, and she took a deep breath of her own as she crossed her arms. “What’s it about,” she mumbled, refusing to look at Christopher.

“It’s called Rapunzel.” He idly flipped through the pages. “It’s about a princess with long, golden hair trapped in a tower by a witch, and rescued by her true love. It’s a classic.” 

“Sounds boring,” she grumbled.

“There’s some rather graphic violence too, if that makes it more intriguing for you.” 

She rolled her eyes, trying to look away from the giant and failing as she looked back toward the book. 

Christopher bent down, rolling his eyes back at her as he extended a hand towards her, like he expected her to climb onto it. “You ought to give it a chance. Come on, I’ll just read the first chapter and you can see if you’re interested after that.” 

Danny glared at him. Glared at his hand. And then glared at him again. She was more interested in hearing the story than she was letting on, but to have it be read to her by him? 

She felt a slight chill as a tiny breeze ruffled her clothes. It felt like Sam was trying to coax her into this too. I feel like I’m being played somehow.

She took a bold, paradoxically defiant step onto Christopher’s palm. “Fine. ONE chapter. And then you have to leave me alone for the rest of the day.” 

The giant laughed softly as he carried her to a nearby table. “Whatever you’d like, Danny.” 

* * * * * * * * * * 

A Little More Than One Chapter Later

Once Christopher reached the end of the story, he realized that Danny, who had taken a seat on the table between him and the book, had begun to make soft snoring noises as her head bent slightly forward. 

And she was the one who insisted we keep going. She didn’t even hear how it ended. He chuckled, poking her lightly in the side. “Hey. Doll. You’re drooling on the pages.” 

“Hwah-huh…?” She made a tired noise as she stirred awake, blinking a few times as she looked slowly between the book and him. Her eyes suddenly widened as she startled herself awake, a look between embarrassment and indignation clear across her face. “I WAS NOT. I’m awake!” 

“Oh? So you heard what happened to the blind prince?”

Her face went blank. “...since when was he blind?” 

“You were asleep for longer than I thought, doll.” He grinned. He could see past her prideful posturing to know that she had enjoyed the story, even if she hadn’t been able to remain conscious for the whole thing. It is a little late.

She huffed. “Well, maybe you could reread some of the end, so I can…” she yawned, “figure out how it ended—” 

“Oh, no.” He closed the book shut and picked her up, placing her on his palm—she only feebly swiped at him in protest this time. “I think that’s enough for tonight. It’s almost midnight.” 

“It’s almost WHAT?!” Danny looked to the windows, which showed that the outside world had long since succumbed to the pitch black of night. “Jesus Christ,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to your room.” 

He’d already made it down the hall, walking as slowly and carefully as he could while he cradled Danny in his palms, trying not to jostle her. To his surprise, about halfway there she began to curl up and close her eyes, giving up entirely on sending any sort of malevolence his way, at least for now.

…what?

No one had ever been comfortable enough to sleep in his hands like this before, not even the ones who thought they could trust him. Seeing her like this, at ease and relaxed, was such a strange contrast from how she normally acted around him, with her guard up and a steely look of irritation in her eyes. 

His heart fluttered a little as he observed her, but he swallowed down the feeling of hope that surged in his chest. As lovely and enticing as the feeling was, he knew it was a rose with thorns beneath it. He knew what happened when he got too attached to the humans he was supposed to eat. 

They all screamed, in the end. 

* * * * * * * * * * Next chapter ->

Is it time for more Danny and Christopher bonding? I think it's time for more Danny and Christopher bonding. Or, well, whatever you want to call it. Either way, tune in next week for chapter 9: A Taste So Bittersweet!

Thank you for reading! We're getting really close to one of my favorite chapters so far. Things are going to start picking up soon! I promise!

#cursed cravings #itwom #itwom au #beauty and the beast au #vore writing #vore stories #gt stories #nonsexual vore #sfw vore #gt vore

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 9: A Taste So Bittersweet

In which Christopher gets a taste of the past, thanks to Danny. Contains: 2.1k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

Christopher felt a little more confident about preparing Danny’s food the next morning, given that it hadn’t ended up all over his shirt the day before. It was a mindless task for him, but he found a simple sort of peace in preparing the food the enchanted kitchen kept stocked and fresh, portioning it as much as he could into a size that was manageable for Danny to consume. He often wondered why Sybil had given him a magically stocked kitchen with food for his size, not humans, but he wrote it off as just another form of torment. A way to further taunt him with the most glaring issue his awful, cursed body possessed—he couldn't taste any of it.

“I’m glad you’re finally eating the food I make for you,” he remarked smartly to Danny as he set her tray down next to her bed, where she was still tangled in the sheets, her hair bedraggled and her eyes laden with the weariness of having been woken up too soon, even though the sun had long since risen past the horizon. 

She sat up slowly, looking at him curiously as her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Wait, you made that?” She gestured toward her tray. “But Sam said you didn’t eat food. How do you know how to cook?”

Christopher tried not to look too taken aback, but it was hard to repress when she’d broached a topic dangerously close to questions he couldn’t—and didn’t want to—answer. “They told you that?” God, what else have they told her? I really need to keep a closer eye on them. 

“Uh…yeah. How do you…I mean, you’ve never had food before? Like, ever?” 

She didn’t seem judgmental, but her curiosity didn’t seem to heed the generally accepted standard of avoiding prying into other people’s lives. 

“...no,” Christopher lied smoothly. He couldn’t speak about the curse if he’d wanted to, or even allude to the fact that there had ever been a time that he had been human like her, and not truly a giant at all. Thankfully, he’d had plenty of practice in crafting a believable tale around his identity, so the lies flowed as easily as breathing for him. “I don’t really know what food tastes like, but I’ve read many books to help me learn how to cook for my…human guests. It’s always been an interest of mine, even if I can’t experience it fully.”

The statement wasn’t entirely untrue—it had been so long since he’d been human that he had started to forget what normal food tasted like at all. The meals he prepared for Danny didn’t even have a scent to him anymore—even Sam could smell the aroma of fresh-baked bread and sweet desserts without a body, somehow. But to him, it was all an empty, hollow sensation. If he tried to smell any of the food, or put it upon his tongue, it was bland and tasteless, prompting his body to respond with the same level of disgust as one might have if they tried to ingest a handful of dirt from the ground. 

For a few years, it had made him rather melancholy, to not be able to partake fully in one of his favorite hobbies anymore. Even before his parents’ death, he’d always found his way into the kitchen, begging the cook to let him try to make something. He’d spent so much time in the kitchen with Sam once everyone else had left, often taking the duty from his manservant entirely. It had helped to give him something to do, to keep his mind off of things.

Now, his tongue was stained with but one taste—only one thing met it with any sort of flavor. Thinking of it still made his stomach turn over.

Danny chewed thoughtfully, regarding him with an expression that suggested she believed him—just barely—but found his statement even more curious as a result. “Do you…want to know what your food tastes like? I could try…describing it to you.”

Christopher tilted his head, a slightly dumbfounded grin on his face as he was broken out of his trance by her unexpected offer. “You’d do that?” 

She shrugged nonchalantly, pointedly looking away from him again as if the idea had started to embarrass her. “I mean, if you’ve never eaten anything it might be a little difficult to explain, but I can try.” 

Christopher tried to hide his excitement and failed, his grin tipping upwards slightly as a humored curiosity stirred inside of him. “Go ahead, doll.” 

Danny picked up the tiny sliver of bread he’d carved off for her and took a bite thoughtfully. “It’s…warm. And…crispy, but soft on the inside. It’s sort of like…there’s something about bread that feels satisfying, and comforting. It makes you feel full. I guess, besides the way it tastes…” Her eyes gained a sort of far-off stare to them, as if she was looking at an entirely different scene. “...bread makes me think of family, and being content and safe. Even when we didn’t have a lot of other food, we’d usually be able to make some bread, at least, and that was enough for the moment.”

She blinked a few times, as if coming back to the present—looking slightly embarrassed as she did so and glancing down at the tray. “But, um. Your bread’s pretty good. I don’t know if any of that made sense.”

Christopher leaned lazily against an arm that he propped up on the chair, gazing intently past Danny. For whatever reason, her explanation filled him with a sort of nostalgia. Even if it wasn’t quite an experience he knew personally, as “family” had never been a concept so warm and loving to him, he thought that for a second he could taste bread on his tongue again, as if she’d somehow brought the concept to life for a fleeting moment. The taste was gone as soon as it had come, if it had even come at all—but the warmth it brought him remained.

The compliment also didn't evade him. A smirk overtook his face.

“It made perfect sense. Please, continue.” 

Danny gave him a somewhat uncertain, skeptical look before she continued on, picking up a piece of the sausage he’d cut down to be handled by her. Though he of course had no human-sized silverware to give her, he found it a little humorous that she simply used her hands to eat without a second thought. He used to get his own hands smacked for doing so as a child. 

“This is kind of…well, it’s a bit fancier than what I’m used to back home, but it’s, um…savory? And a little spicy. I, uh, guess you wouldn’t know what that means. Um…” Her head bobbed from side to side as she tried to think of a way to explain it.

Christopher did know those sensations, faint as they were in his memory, but he was finding her struggle a little humorous to watch.

“...it’s sort of like, your tongue stings a little, but it’s not painful. And…” She chewed on, pensively. “It’s like every time you think you get one flavor down, there’s another spice or something you can catch. I don’t know, I’ve…we don’t get to use a lot of spices back home. And meat’s kind of a special occasion thing, at least stuff like this. This is…it’s kind of exciting, like you keep unraveling new things the longer you eat it. But all the flavors work together to make something really, uh…” She waved her hands around in circles to articulate her point. “...complete?”

Danny waved it off, quickly finishing the bite of sausage. “Although, I mean, it was probably pre-made or something, but still.” 

“No, no, I’ll take the compliment,” Christopher teased, though he really had done nothing more than slice the sausage into a smaller size for her. 

She rolled her eyes, and moved on to the orange. He’d only managed to cut the wedge so small—it was still easily the size of her face, but she tore into it anyway. Juice dripped down her clothes, but she ignored it as she chewed.

He couldn’t suppress a small laugh, though he tried to hide it behind his hand as a cough. 

She glared at him. “What’s so funny?”

He gestured with a light wave of his hand to her whole body. “You’ve got a bit of…on your…”

“I was gonna change anyways.” She stuck out her tongue at him. “You’ll just have to do your guest’s laundry.” 

Is she really starting to boss me around? As if I’m the one that does laundry anyways. He didn’t correct her, though—he just found himself staring at her with a gentle amusement, caught off guard by her brazen nature as always. 

Danny continued on with her explanation, still utterly unbothered. “This tastes like…summer. Like the way sunshine feels on your skin, and how nice cold water feels when it’s really hot outside. It’s sweet, and a little tangy. But refreshing. It tastes…happy.” 

An unexpected sensation gripped his own tongue, the imagined citrus dancing across his taste buds almost as if he had taken a bite of the orange himself. Thanks to her, he could remember, for just a brief moment, how the fruit had tasted—for just a moment he became swept up in that simple joy she described, finding an odd significance and sentimentality had lent itself to the experience. It was just an orange she was describing—a piece of mundane fruit he’d probably never spared a second thought to all those years ago—but in this moment, he swore he almost felt…

…human.

He blinked a few times, having almost completely detached himself from the present moment. Danny was still eating, completely oblivious to his introspection as she munched on. He shook his head slightly as if to clear it, but instead felt a tiny surge of emotion well up in his chest. He couldn’t place its source, or even its nature. 

“...thank you, Danny. That was…very enlightening.” He rose to his feet to leave, bowing his head slightly towards her as he did. “I’ll leave you be for now.”

She gave him a quizzical look. “What, you have things to do?”

He turned away from her, not allowing her to see his face—which he was starting to lose control over keeping composed. “I…do have some errands I need to take care of. I’ll find you later.”

“Alright,” she replied, a little quieter than before.

He left the room and closed the door softly behind him, wandering down the halls aimlessly for a short while. He hadn’t a destination in mind, nor did he have errands to run.

All he could think of was the way she’d listened so intently to the story yesterday, and the way that she’d fallen asleep in his hands. The way she boldly defied him, even though she was dwarfed in size and class alike. The way she described her simple breakfast in a way that touched him, and somehow made him remember a time when he had been well and truly happy.

She spoke with me. She isn’t afraid of me—I don’t even think she hates me as much anymore.

A thought tugged at his mind, a tiny and pestering worry that began to impede on the light, happy feeling in his chest until it became corroded at the edges with anxiety.

I enjoy her company.

Sam had been right—he hadn’t been trying lately, not for the last few years at least. It was so, so much easier to limit his interactions with the people he kept, even as the crushing weight of loneliness invaded his soul. It was easiest not to grow attached, and to keep them afraid, or angry—because the light of trust in their eyes would always extinguish, and it would pierce his heart every time to remember the way they looked at him once he’d had them inside long enough to push the beast far enough back beneath the surface, when he let them out, just before he took their memories away. 

It was easiest to just ignore the people he kept here. To let them think of him as nothing more than a cruel monster. That was why he hadn’t been trying to be nice, even if being nice would surely be the only hope that one of them would fulfill the impossible conditions needed to break the curse. It was soul-crushing work, to do it over and over and over again, never able to consume the same person twice, always needing to find a new face to look at him and scream in terror.

Danny would be just another one of those faces. Within a week, he’d need to consume her.

I enjoy her company. 

I don’t want her to be afraid of me. 

He didn’t even think about the possibility of her being the one to break the curse—all he could think of was that of all the people he’d met, captured, and invited over the years, she was one of the first in a long time that he found himself, unfortunately and inexplicably, beginning to care for.

And how could he subject someone he cared for…to that? 

…oh no.

* * * * * * * * * *

Christopher may have started to care. But does Danny feel the same way? Is there any hope at all of breaking his curse? Next week is chapter 10, Chosen!

Thank you for reading!

#cursed cravings #itwom #itwom au #beauty and the beast au #vore writing #vore stories #gt stories #nonsexual vore #sfw vore #gt vore

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings: A retold, g/t story of Beauty and the Beast, with a sinister twist.

When he declines to help a beggar woman, wealthy aristocrat Christopher Penn was cursed to adopt a giant form with a terrible, monstrous burden, and the conditions to break the curse seem all but impossible. When a peasant girl, Danny, agrees to take her friend's place as Christopher's captive, he realizes that she may be the last hope of regaining his humanity and breaking the spell for good.

But who could ever care for a monster like him?

This will be an AU of ITWOM involving some familiar characters like Christopher, Danny, Sam, and Nathan - but you don't have to have read the main story to read this one. Lots of things will be changed around, so for all intents and purposes, these aren't the characters you know.

This story will contain g/t, angst, and soft/safe vore later down the road. It's still going to be a lighter read than ITWOM, but be warned nonetheless! This isn't the Beauty and the Beast story you know from Disney.

Read Chapter 1 below:

Chapter 1: Dark Night of the Soul

Contains: ~2k words | Read this story on A03!

It was a night like many others, the night that Christopher Penn's life was changed forever.

A deluge had begun that evening, torrential rain bearing down upon the land with fierce strikes of lightning and thunder rattling the large windows of the mansion—but all this meant for Christopher and his guests was that they wouldn't be able to enjoy the garden out back, and their merriment was restricted to the large indoor space. The music still swelled and filled the air pleasantly, rising above the sounds of the storm outside and making it easy for the partygoers to forget how unpleasant it was outside the walls of Christopher's house.

The host in question flitted from person to person throughout the evening, engaging in the usual small talk and jokes, an easy and charming smile lighting up his face and those of the people he met with. He was a gracious and charismatic host, always making sure that his parties were the grandest, with his guests never wanting for anything. The people in attendance would speak highly of his events, of the balls and the dinner parties, that he was so keen to host. 

On the surface, Christopher seemed rather at ease, full of a charm and grace that would be befitting of someone from a wealthy family. But his actions were all surface level—each word and step he took was carefully choreographed and planned in advance. He was terrified, truly—each person he brought into his home was a potential ally, a potential for advancing his status, but they were also a potential seed to his own destruction.

Christopher had spent every day since his parents had passed rebuilding his family's reputation among the nobility. He could see past their charm—they despised his parents, and in turn, they despised him. His own reputation—the very thing that allowed him to live in such comforts still, to have any amount of power and social standing at all—was fragile and tenuous, and every interaction he had, no matter how seemingly insignificant it was, was an attempt to maintain its strength.

And so, while he seemed completely comfortable in this element, there was a latent anxiety in Christopher, hidden well beneath the surface. 

He almost didn’t hear the knock at the door at first, wrapped up as he was in conversation. But his manservant rushed to his side, rather insistently dragging him away.

“I’m sorry, Chris, she just won’t leave without speaking to you.” Sam’s stride was brisk, and they gave Christopher no choice but to follow. He offered a quick and profuse apology to the noblewoman he’d been entertaining before he caught up to Sam.

“You’re not able to send her away?” Christopher hissed, somewhat tersely. “I can’t be interrupted by every stranger that shows up here. I have guests to attend to.” 

“Hey, I tried!” Sam insisted. “I’m just one guy, and I also have guests of yours to attend to. She keeps coming back. All she wants is a quick word with you. Just humor her, and she’ll be out of your hair.” Sam ran their fingers somewhat anxiously through their own well-groomed locks. “We can just deal with it quietly, before she causes a scene. Some of the guests near the front door are getting a little antsy about it.” 

Christopher sighed wearily as he followed Sam to the main entrance. Perhaps if he had more staff, this wouldn’t be a problem. Most of the house’s staff had left in the fallout of his parents’ demise, with the sole exception being Sam—his personal servant who’d remained as doggedly loyal to him as they had the first day they’d been assigned to care for him. He’d never let on to his guests, but Christopher worked with Sam every day to keep the house in order, even helping cook the meals and clean. He had to keep up appearances as best he could. 

Sam pulled the grand front door open to reveal a woman on the other side—a pauper in beggar’s clothes, tattered and rain-soaked, hunched on his front stoop as she gazed up at Christopher. 

Christopher stood up straight and directed a cold, stern look towards the woman. He could feel several sets of eyes on him, and knew that there was a group of aristocrats watching the scene intently. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves idly as he spoke, as if he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the woman at all.

“I’m afraid you will have to leave. I have no room for beggars here.” 

The woman shivered slightly, tilting her head up further to meet Christopher’s face. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her face lined with creases from age and stress. “P-please, kind sir, I only need to come in from the storm for a short while. I won’t be any trouble. I…I haven’t eaten in days-”

The people nearby began to whisper, a touch of disgust coloring their tone. 

“This is an exclusive event,” Christopher interjected firmly. “There is a certain decorum that must be maintained. Please leave, or I will contact the authorities to escort you away.” 

If he had been at home alone that evening, he might have afforded some manner of small comfort towards the woman. But he couldn’t be seen sullying his hands with the poor here. 

A pleading, desperate look came to the woman’s face, her features falling into despair. “Sir, I will not survive the night!” Her voice was hoarse and rough, as if sandpaper scraped against the inside of her throat. “You would turn me away, to the mercy of the storm?”

Her cries had gotten louder—more of his guests had turned to look and whisper among themselves, casting uncertain and hesitant glances Christopher’s way. He didn’t need to hear them to know what they were all saying. 

What kind of place is this, where the host entertains beggars?

He is no better than his parents, mingling with such filth.

He doesn’t belong here.

He is not one of us.

He set his jaw and made his stance firm, his dark eyes fixed sharply down at the beggar. He couldn’t let this go on further. “Leave. Your welfare is not my concern.”

The woman’s face became suddenly sharper, each crease and wrinkle fading to a more youthful visage, and her muddy, round eyes transformed to piercing, golden ones. She no longer hunched, but stood straight up, rising to a height that forced even Christopher to look up in awestruck terror. 

“THEN YOU WILL HAVE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS, CHRISTOPHER PENN.” 

Her tattered clothes transformed to flowing white robes upon her dark skin, her hair now falling in neat and lovely braids down her back, adorned with gold. 

She cast a scornful, acidic gaze towards Christopher as she looked down on him, each fiber of her being radiating with malice. 

His heart stopped beating—the entire world seemed to have gone silent, save for the strikes of thunder that almost seemed to accentuate every word this woman spoke. Her voice boomed with an unnatural volume throughout the entire hall. He didn’t need to turn around to know that every single person in attendance had heard.

He did his best to hide the quaking in his limbs. He couldn’t lose his composure, even now. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice escaping as nothing but a whisper.

The woman scowled at him, her expression one of pure poison. He could feel himself withering beneath it, despite all his efforts to keep calm. 

“You would not remember me, for the faces you entertain here are simply passing flights of fancy to you. I was your guest, Penn. And I saw past your charm. You use people for your own gain, grasping onto what little power you have like a pathetic child, desperate to rise above your place in the world.” 

She pointed an accusing finger towards him. “You have a vile, black heart, so cruel that you would send a woman away to her death when she asks for but a little kindness.”

“Hey!” Sam spoke up, a little timidly beside Christopher. “You can’t talk about him like-”

“SILENCE.” A loud strike of thunder shook the entire house, rattling the foundation and carrying the woman’s voice to the ears of every patron once again. A blistering wind tore through the open door, making the curtains tremble in its wake. 

Christopher thought that something seemed familiar about the woman—he felt as though he could recall a conversation with her, and she surely must have been at one of his parties. He searched for a name desperately, frantically wracking his brain for this woman’s identity.

“...Sybil?” he croaked, every ounce of confidence having long since left his body. His knees began to tremble, and he worried that they would soon give out completely. “Y-you may come in, I am so very sorry to have offended-”

“You have already failed, Penn. Now you repent, for you see my true form, and the power I wield.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your fate has already been sealed.”

The world was swallowed in darkness within only the span of a moment, and the screams of Christopher’s guests and Sam became drowned out by an all-encompassing blackness that surrounded him, choking the air from his lungs, squeezing his ribcage until he thought he would burst from the pressure. He could not speak, he could not move, he could not see. If not for the excruciating pain shooting through every fiber of his being, he would have thought he was dead.

“You will no longer hide behind your tawdry facade. A monster within, so a monster you shall become.” 

Sybil’s voice came from all around him, like a harsh winter wind that froze the blood in his veins as it passed over him. Her words had weight to them, laden with something powerful, and far beyond this world’s understanding. 

His body was changing, but in what manner, he had no way to tell. All he could feel was pain—pain and a clawing hunger, like an animal inside of his stomach ripping and tearing at the flesh within, desperate to break out. His head throbbed as sounds swirled in his mind, indistinguishable from each other as they rose into a crescendo of noise, and the silence turned to a deafening cacophony. Voices, screams, shouting, but no words he could make out. He thought that he could hear Sam, amidst all the chaos, but he couldn’t be sure.

And then, before the darkness of his vision cleared to reveal the full extent of the horror that awaited him, he was assaulted by the wave of a strong smell he couldn’t place, a scent that filled his lungs and made the desperate animal within his gut writhe and twist in agony. It was like the scent of the finest wine, the most tantalizing food in existence, in such a great amount that it was overwhelming—even though, in those few moments of blissful ignorance, he had no idea what it was that delighted his senses so, that made the pain almost forgotten, that made every bone of his ache with an almost feral hunger.

His eyes opened with frantic urgency, and the scene before him unfolded slowly into a horrifyingly clear depiction of the gruesome fate that had been thrust upon him. He could barely see the faces of the ones he’d invited here, but their frightened screams spoke loudly enough. No words came to his own mouth—he was frozen in horror, like an insect trapped in amber as the weight of what happened sunk in, pressing down upon him like a suffocating, terrible gravity.

Despite his transformation, Sybil’s words rang as clear in his head as they had before. 

“Ten years, Penn. Ten years to prove yourself, or this form will be your prison.”

* * * * * * * * * * 

Next Chapter ->

Thanks for reading! I hope to update this story semi-consistently, because boy do I have some things planned down the road. So stay tuned!

#cursed cravings #itwom #g/t writing #g/t stories #g/t angst #vore stories #vore writing #g/t vore #gt vore #safe vore #soft vore #sfw vore #toast arts #beauty and the beast au #please click for the full quality of the image LOL #tumblr killed all the pixels and I'm very proud of those pixels :(

[toast-tales]

It's still Mermay, right?

I have no idea where this urge to draw Christopher and Danny as merpeople came from, but by god, I've done it.

Christopher is (loosely) based on a Red-tailed Catfish, and Danny is (again, rather loosely) based on a Red Devil Cichlid.

Bigger Danny because I actually quite like some of the details on her tail:

#itwom #itwom art #oc danny #oc christopher #toast arts #if I got some fish detail wrong. um. oops #way too scared to put this under normal mermay tags actually #context? who's she? #i will drop mer au art and run away hastily #g/t art #gt art

[toast-tales]

Random Question Time: (I'm hoping these questions weren't asked before. Ignore them if they were or if they are dumb, I apologize in advance!)

Which human character if turned into a giant all sudden would absolutely be overtaken by their new "power"?

And which giant if turned into a human would absolutely fall into helpless disarray?

Lastly, what would you say are the pet peeves for your main cast, Danny, Christopher, Nathan, and any others you'd love to go through? Peeves big or small. Ha, you get it, I'm done. XD I'd honestly like to know all of them, but don't if you don't want too!

HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY PEEPSTER!!

HAH! I love those first two questions because I actually started writing something for this (so far, just non-canon shenanigans lol) and somewhat unsurprisingly, the answer is Danny and Christopher. And I mean this quite honestly, not just because they're the main characters.

Danny would finally not be helpless anymore, and would certainly relish in a little bit of payback. She would finally get to hug Nathan. She could walk around outside, maybe take a walk in the woods, go down the street, eat at a nice restaurant. She'd try and take full advantage of her new "abilities." And if she knew it was safe, she probably wouldn't be against eating someone who deserved it, just to rub it in further-

Christopher would be absolutely terrified. His whole thing is maintaining a certain level of control in all situations. If he was actually reduced to that size, helpless, and at the whim of whoever he was with (especially someone who might have it out for him), he'd be freaking out. It would be a multifold nightmare for him - one, he'd lose a lot of his sharpened senses, which would be hard to get used to. It'd feel like he was running around blind. Two, he'd know how vulnerable he was, having previously had giant senses and...remembering how humans tasted. And even if he knew he would be safe throughout, being eaten would be a new and terrifying experience for him. It would be...humbling, to say the least. If he wasn't actively terrified, he'd probably just be an irritable grouch about it until he got back to normal.

As far as pet peeves...

Danny really doesn't like people who speak for her, put words into her mouth, that sort of thing. People who tell her how she should feel or what she should want. (Nathan's the exception here - she respects his opinion enough to know that he's just concerned for her.)

Christopher is a bit of a neat freak. He hates when people leave trash lying around, or dirty dishes, or just mess in general. He'll usually pick it up or clean it himself because of how much it bugs him, but it really rubs him the wrong way when people do it consistently. (This is probably a byproduct of how messy his parents were.)

Nathan hates being referred to as a "goody-two-shoes" or anything similar. Especially by people who barely know him. It's not just the fact that he doesn't eat humans - he never went to any crazy parties, didn't drink, smoke, and he doesn't really swear. Unfortunately that's enough for most people to label him pretty quickly, and he hates being labeled like that, even if it's not in an outright mean way. It just makes him feel like a child, and that's a big insecurity of his.

(that's probably all the characters I'll do for right now, this is at risk of becoming another novel entirely at this point lol)

Thank you for the questions, and I hope you have a swell-tastic day as well, friendo! :D

#toast asks #ask game #itwom #maybe you guys'll see that body swap au one day #maybe when the story is over lol #oc danny #oc christopher #oc nathan