Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s not what I expected,” Morn Ingstar said, scowling up at the beast.

The city bus-sized chipmunk screeched in the warrior’s face, spraying foul spittle all over his wavy black hair, his tall, curved horns with sharp ridges along the outer edges, the black tunic and feather cloak he wore, and the oversized greatsword he carried one-handed. The red glow from its eyes glinted off his deep azure skin, bulging muscles, and the dozens of spiked piercings speckled all over his body, from his earlobes to the pointed tips of his ears, to lining under his crimson eyes and above his black eyebrows, to dotting his exposed collarbone. He stood his ground, analyzing the monstrous mammal, unconcerned.

“And what did you expect?” Kat Ana asked, drawing her blade and slicing at the creature’s hind leg. It roared louder, turning on her. Its breath whipped her long, deep red hair around her pale pink face and four stubby horns. “A welcome party? A fucking feast in your honor?”

A vein throbbed on Morn’s forehead as he raised his own sword. “Can it, Kat, or I’ll cut you in half with it.”

“Try it, you spiky bastard.”

He tried it. Greatsword raised, Morn leaped into the air, and-…froze.

A spinning circle appeared.

Po Learm flinched at the paused livestream. “No, dammit! Don’t freeze on me you piece of shit!” He raked the fingers of his free hand down his face. “Fuuuck! I was just about to cum!”

…L-look, don’t get the wrong idea. Po wasn’t masturbating to Conquest Of The Otherworlds, he was-…Okay, he was. But…See, it was more like he was watching Conquest while masturbating. There was a difference.

Most demons just had sex or watched porn, but most demons weren’t forced to orgasm every twenty minutes or so all day every day until it drove them insane or bored them to tears.

Most demons didn’t have to deal with this fucking curse.

Pleasure shot down Po’s spine, ripping a moan from his throat. He held onto his dick for dear life as the base swelled and a lump the size of a golf ball squeezed into his shaft.

The stream suddenly unfroze, skipping ahead to stay live.

“What was that, you spiky bastard?!” Kat demanded, reaching up to wrap her fingers around her companion’s thick throat to strangle him. “You almost took my leg off!”

Morn choked, standing in front of the chopped-up chipmunk. “Almost? Sorry about that, I’ll make sure not to miss next time. You want your right leg taken off, or your left?”

“I want your head taken off!” she hissed.

Nunch Ucks and Thro Wingstar entered the cavernous tree hollow, drenched in blood and sweat and struggling to catch their breaths. They glanced around at the glowing moss and mushrooms, surveying the chamber for more threats.

Thro wrung some of the blood out of her glistening white hair and wiped her cyan face. “It’s probably not here.”

“Strange to hear you so pessimistic,” Nunch said, tying a sturdy branch to his broken arm to act as a temporary brace. The blood barely showed on his similarly red skin.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to be realistic and prepare you all for disappointment,” she said. “The monsters here wouldn’t be this weak if they were really guarding a Devil’s Chalice.”

Yeah, the Devil’s Chalice. Two weeks ago, Thro had explained-. Po lost his train of thought as his body shuddered with an unwanted orgasm. The first egg stretched his slit open, pushing its way out and plopping into the bucket under his desk with the others from twenty minutes ago, and from twenty minutes before that. He ground his wide hips and pillowy ass against his chair, armrests groping his juicy thighs as he pressed his bloated, churning belly against the desk and three more eggs slid out of him. They were pitch black with swirly little pink hearts, and Po didn’t need to look; he’d been doing this for, what, eight years now? Nine? Well, he’d been cursed at nineteen, and he was nearly twenty-eight now, so…

Morn led the way up the twisting wooden ramp that wound further into the great tree. His rival Kat, his younger brother Nunch, and their artifact appraiser Thro watched his back, weapons drawn, ready to kill anything else that crawled out of the woodworks.

Proper Wrath demons. Warriors exploring the Otherworlds. Po felt blessed to live in a day and age where he could at least peer into the life he’d been denied from the sidelines where the curse imprisoned him.

Po was constantly mistaken for a Lust demon, or a Gluttony demon, or an overdue demon woman, but he wasn’t any of those things. He was a Wrath demon. Made of rage, born in the Wrath capital in the shadow of the jagged volcano, Mount Tabbiramae, under the blood-drenched tower of Wrathgard.

Nineteen-year-old Po Learm was a scrappy little shit. Short but broad, with muddy brown hair and horns that curved forward, he made up for his height difference by being the loudest, wildest fresh meat in Elder Demon Ambrellosh’s Wrath Army. Fucker swung his morning star—his favorite weapon—at anything that so much as moved in his peripherals or looked at him funny. His mottled red and blue skin really stood out against Ambrellosh’s mostly pure blue demons, and they said he looked like a speckled egg, or a lava lamp. Po preferred the latter, but everyone had remembered him as the angry egg that smashed everyone’s kneecaps with a spiked club for getting on his nerves. He was quickly promoted.

Then the witch incident happened.

Po and a couple other demons of his rank went to smoke out a witch whom General Guill O’Tine decided had set up shop too close to the capital. Bitch thought they were cute and refused to move. So Po did what he always did; got angry and tried to smash her kneecaps.

He thought they could take her. Thought HE could take her. Really, she didn’t look that strong until she’d beaten both his companions’ brains out with her bare fists and had Po by the throat. She put the fear of the gods in him, and Po made the horrible, terrible, unfathomably stupid mistake of begging for his life.

Why couldn’t he have been born a Pride demon? Someone who would rather have died than hand over even a scrap of his dignity.

The witch obliged. She said she had a bigger plan for him and simply let him go. Po ran about half a mile before a debilitating nausea brought him to his knees. He puked up his guts and passed out on the forest floor.

The next morning, he awoke to his creaking, drum-tight tum towering over him. Po shrieked. Then he tried to sit up and came untouched in his overalls. The first time the eggs forced their way down into his cock and got stuck there until they managed to pry his narrow slit open and come squirting out, he pulled his hair, screaming and crying until his voice box stopped working. How he managed to waddle back to town after that, only the gods remember.

For Po, that first year was all a horny haze. The Wrath army gave him six months’ leave to recover, but it quickly became clear that whatever the witch did to him wasn’t wearing off. When he pushed out all the eggs, his body made more. And more. And if he tried to hold them in, plugged himself and prayed for it to stop, his body just made even more, and they built up, and up, and up, until they burst the plug and came spilling out all at once. It was orgasmic. Mind-shattering. Life-ruining.

When his six months were up, he was honorably discharged. They sent him home to his family in the Wrath capital, but the strong, violent demons who raised him quickly grew sick of his pathetic weeping and slutty moaning.

Two of his brothers made an attempt to show compassion and continue to include him in their roughhousing despite his new fragility, but even a playful punch anywhere around his bulbous abdomen had him writhing on the ground in ecstatic agony and agonized ecstasy. He made it weird. His stupid fucking body made everything so weird.

In retrospect, Po had no idea how he didn’t go completely insane.

His parents eventually kicked him out, so Po moved into a two-bedroom apartment by himself. Then downgraded to a one-bedroom as he realized finding steady work with his condition, especially in Wrath City, would be a more grueling gauntlet than his army training. Then he downgraded to the tiniest studio apartment he could find because he struggled to hold even an easy part-time desk job while having to stop and cum a dozen eggs every twenty minutes and endure his coworkers’ cruel looks and constant complaints about the noises and messes he made. He had to warn employers about the curse on his resume, which made most of them throw it out, and the kind souls who did hire him tended to change their minds after a few weeks.

Social safety nets provided for some demons in other cities, but not Wrath demons. Wrath and Pride demons were expected to pull their own weight or let it drag them underwater.

Po’s funds slowly dwindled to where he could barely afford to support himself. Well, at least he didn’t have to spend much money on food. Early on, when he’d crammed his fridge so full of these fucking eggs that no more would fit, he’d gotten curious about the taste and discovered that he could recover effectively all the energy his body dumped into making them by cracking them open and dumping them back into his stomach. He wasn’t sure it should work that way, but it did. Sure, he needed to take a multivitamin, and the diet of almost entirely eggs ground down his mental state like a mortar and pestle, but it was effective.

Gods, he was mortified when his body began changing further. His pecs became tender. They ballooned out like breasts basically overnight. They didn’t even have a fatty, comfortable softness to fondle like real breasts, they were packed tight and comically round like water balloons, but he had to admit the sweet milk added a lot of variety to his awful diet.

His body kept changing in horrifying ways. Po ran for his life at the gym, but he couldn’t keep the weight off, and his ass filled out like a couple couch cushions. His insides cramped and groaned in ways that felt unnatural. Distressed, he went in for his only doctor’s appointment since being cursed, and regretted the ultrasound immediately—and not just because it was expensive without insurance and drove him into medical debt. Po still had a brain, heart, and lungs, but most of his lower organs, like his stomach, kidneys, liver, pancreas, bladder, and most of his intestines had…melted together, or something, into one massive egg sac. His prostate and testicles had swelled to the size of grapefruits and now produced milk instead of sperm, so any ideas he had of starting a family someday were flushed down the fucking toilet. Even his tear ducts decided to produce milk instead, and he wept dairy in the parking lot on the way out.

Po eventually had enough and threw himself off the Wrath City bridge. He passed out from the impact when his head hit the water, but was later disappointed to wake up in a fisherman’s shack.

Despite that, in retrospect, it was kind of a funny story how the seaworthy Sloth demon convinced him to live. Not very Sloth-like of him, saving someone’s life. While he was nursing Po back to health, they both needed a little entertainment to pass the time, and the fisherman introduced him to Conquest Of The Otherworlds.

With the Lust armies enthusiastically populating this world, the demand for resources rose, so the Greed and Wrath armies built portals to the Otherworlds and set out in search of food, materials, and useful tools. They looted all kinds of shit from the rubble of fallen civilizations. Like medieval torture devices, laser swords, and…the internet.

Some eggheads at Wrathgard got a whole bunch of servers and old websites up and running. They initially sold it to Elder Demon Ambrellosh’s armies as a means of communication, and the generals ate it up. Physical letters were slow and dangerous to deliver, and Elder Demon Hazaelia, as a godly storm mage, was too good at intercepting and disrupting her enemy’s magical correspondence, so the digital instant messaging revolutionized Ambrellosh’s tactics.

Then the Greed army got ahold of it and sold it to the public for cheap, those fuckers. But that meant impoverished demons like Po and the fisherman had access to the wonders of livestreaming, and Nunch Ucks’ ultra popular battle adventure channel, Conquest Of The Otherworlds.

Nunch was a slippery little shit. Lithe, fast, and agile. He started out sneaking into Otherworld enemy camps and cities and filming evil armies, death cults, and man-eating monsters, then running for his life when they discovered him. Then his channel grew in popularity as he harassed his best friend Thro and his roommate Kat into joining. Thro’s investigation and appraisal of powerful magical artifacts that they later sold for a fortune, as well as Kat’s heart-stopping sword fights, slaughtering entire armies, cults, and dens of beasts, raked in thousands of viewers.

They were doing well for themselves even before Nunch’s older brother returned from his military service as a general in the Wrath army and moved into Wrathgard with them. The Nunch Box, as they called themselves, bullied General Morn Ingstar for forty days and nights straight until he caved and joined the team. He grumbled, growled, and threatened to fucking kill them the entire time, but must not have been that upset in the end because he came back for another stream, and another, and pretty soon he became the star. To only Kat’s chagrin, the audience agreed that Morn was the protagonist, Kat was his ankle-biting rival, Thro was there to provide exposition, and Nunch passed the camera to a hired hand and became the annoying comedic relief side character on his own show.

And Po loved Conquest like he’d loved nothing else since the army and the battlefield. He loved the strange, expansive alien landscapes and the mysterious beasts that roamed them. Loved the thrills, the kills, the sheer skill of these Wrath warriors. Po loved watching them sift through the rubble of lost civilizations and dig up storied art, odd devices, and enchanted artifacts. He loved their scheduled lunch breaks where they’d talk and sample monster meat and otherworldly plants on camera. He loved Thro’s bubbly enthusiasm, Nunch’s goofy getaways, and even Kat’s blade-wielding bitchery. Most of all, he loved Morn’s cold cruelty and insurmountable strength that masked his heart of gold. Po knew he’d have a raging boner for the retired demon general even if that wasn’t the natural state of his schlong nowadays.

The little cursed demon redoubled his efforts, looking for a job just to afford a shoddy old laptop and an ethernet connection so he could watch Conquest. He spent all day every day, after he woke up until he left to stock the storage shelves at a nearby grocery store and after he got home until he fell asleep, watching Conquest’s near daily streams and catching up on what he missed while busy. Whenever he ran out of content, he’d look at fanart and read fanfiction about the Nunch Box.

Yes, he was obsessed; Morn and his friends were Po’s reason to live.

Morn kicked open the towering wooden doors, ripping vines off the frame and scattering scraps of moss across the dirt floor in the great tree’s central chamber. The camera followed his gaze up a tall staircase grown from the branches.

Stairs—Po’s nemesis. They took so much energy to climb and made his thighs rub together uncomfortably.

Of course, Morn had no trouble marching up to the platform at the top. Thro, Nunch, and the cameraman followed.

Kat dashed ahead, to the podium in the middle, and grabbed the artifact atop it. “Hah! Mine now, losers.”

Morn sighed.

“Wait!” Thro called out. “Kat, slow down! What if it’d been booby trapped?”

“No, it’s okay,” Nunch said, patting her on the shoulder. “Booby traps don’t trigger if you have boobies of your own.”

She socked him in the jaw, knocking the crimson demon into a pit of thorny vines.

Po cracked up laughing, but shamefully wondered if he’d also fail to trigger those traps.

“It’s not booby trapped,” Morn said, stalking over to Kat and pulling out a small knife. He stabbed her in the hand and pried the artifact from her greedy fingers, bringing it to Thro. “It’s broken.”

Thro let him hold it as Kat mumbled in the background that she didn’t break it, raising her hands to examine the twisted chalice with magic. Black and white branches grew from a flat base and coiled around each other like twin serpents to form a tall grip before they splayed out into a wide bowl at the top. The branches were bone dry, withered, and cracked. The chalice sat empty, not a drop of the god’s nectar left.

“I think…it’s the genuine article,” Thro said, smiling despite its sorry state. “Yes. This is definitely the Devil’s Chalice of Roch Uarweld.”

Nunch climbed up to join them, picking thorns out of his hair. “So, it’s real, but it’s empty. Can we fill it back up with something?”

She paused. “Well…Sure, for fun. But it won’t actually work. It’s supposed to magically fill with the nectar of its patron god. If it isn’t doing that, it’s returned to a state before it received the god’s blessing and is basically just a fancy cup.”

Kat huffed, rubbing her cut. “Can it be fixed?”

“Not really. A lesser god could refill it, maybe, but they could just as easily do the same to their own artifact, defeating the point of the chalice. We’re not going to find a lesser god willing to casually hand us a Devil’s Chalice,” she said. “Sorry, Morn. Looks like you won’t become a demon god this time.”

Morn stared solemnly into the empty cup. He traced his thumb up one of the branches and sighed. “That’s fine. I wouldn’t want to become a god without enduring some kind of excruciating trial first anyway. It’d be too easy.”

Kat glowered at him. “Of course that’s what you’d want, you masochist.”

Po grinned. Yes, a true warrior endured.

Chapter Text

No stream today. Damn. Po scattered the pile of eggs he laid while asleep and crawled out of bed, carrying his laptop to the bathroom. His body hadn’t made feces or urine since he was nineteen, so he never used the toilet, but he always woke up at noon and started the day with a shower to wash off all the milk that dried to his body overnight.

He stood under the icy shower, scrubbing his swollen chest, belly, ass, and thighs clean, trying not to cum yet. He didn’t want to waste resources. As soon as he toweled himself off, he got out the bucket, set his laptop by the sink, and pulled up a video.

Po downloaded his favorite streams to rewatch when there was no new content, and this was his simultaneous favorite, most hated, funniest, and most stressful episode. Since he didn’t always have the time or patience to rewatch every second or remember where to skip to, he’d learned how to edit videos and chopped it down to just the important bits.

Morn led the way, lighting the coastal cave with a flickering blue torch. The light dancing off the dripping rock walls mesmerized Thro. Kat, not so much, and Nunch was just along for the ride.

“We have to find and kill it before the tide rises,” Thro said. “Or we’ll be drowned in here.”

With a snort, Nunch kicked a rock into a deceptively shallow-looking pool of seawater and turned around to shrug sarcastically at the camera. “Won’t take long, to be honest. How hard can it be to find a giant sea monster?”

Black tentacles whipping out of the water, said sea monster grabbed Nunch by the waist and leg and dragged him into the depths with flawless comedic timing and a perfectly cut scream.

Thro covered her mouth.

Tossing her the torch, Morn sucked in a breath and dove after his brother.

The girls crouched by the pool, waiting for the guys to resurface. All was still for a full minute.

“Dammit, you idiots, don’t die in there!” Kat cried. “If you’re gonna die, do it in front of the camera so we’ll get more views!”

Unamused, Thro picked up a rock and bashed her over the head. Kat collapsed, hair dangling into the water.

Morn burst out of the pool with Nunch’s arm over his shoulder. Nunch gasped for air, and the smaller man looked like he was about to lose his lunch. He gagged and heaved, but nothing came out.

Thro helped them onto the ledge, explaining how Kat said she was tired and laid down to take a nap. As she did, Kat snapped awake and grabbed the blood-covered rock for revenge, but Morn kept them apart.

“Ohhh,” Nunch groaned, pulling his shirt down. “Owww…Oh, don’t laugh, girls. Don’t laugh. It’s not funny.”

Curious, Thro frowned at him.

“Okay, it’ll be hilarious tomorrow,” he admitted. “But I just feel fucking sick today.” Shaky hands pressed his baggy orange shirt to his abdomen to highlight the bloated paunch he’d abruptly obtained. “I think that asshole shoved an egg up my butt.”

The girls laughed—Kat so hard she genuinely almost choked to death on her own spit.

And of course Nunch handled the embarrassment by being twice as insufferable as either of them. Every word out of his mouth from then on was an egg pun, a complaint about how stuffed he was, an egg pun, a lament that it didn’t knock up one of the girls instead, or an egg pun.

They made omelets for lunch just to spite him. Nunch tried to eat one to roll with the punches, but the egg took up his entire stomach and made it impossible to keep anything down. So he tripled the egg puns until the girls got sick of him. They shoved Nunch over and kicked the shit out of him, making sure to cover everywhere except his round, shiny belly with bruises and boot prints.

“Now you know what it’s like to be a woman!” Kat snapped.

Thro kicked him in the crotch. “Pregnancy is hard! You should show us more respect!”

Morn gaped at them, eyes white with shock. “Wh-. You bitches have never had kids! Why the hell are you up his ass about it?!”

They turned slowly, menacingly, toward him. Kat and Thro crossed the distance, pushed him over too, and gave him the same beating.

By evening, they finally made it back through the portal, and Wrathgard’s staff brought a stretcher for Nunch. The doctor said she’d take a look and see if he needed it surgically extracted. They never did say how he ended up getting the egg out, but he was okay the next day.

Po was jealous. Honestly, he didn’t know why this episode didn’t just trigger his trauma instead. Maybe it was because they saved Nunch in the end. Maybe it was Po’s nature as a Wrath demon that watching one of his heroes suffer like he did warmed his black heart. He wasn’t sure.

Kat slapped Morn on the back as he watched his brother being wheeled away. “Bet you’re glad it wasn’t you.”

Morn paused, looking down. “Sure.”

Milk and eggs gushed into the bucket as Po milked himself like a cow, moaning like one to boot. He wiped himself off with the towel and tossed it in the overflowing laundry basket. Laptop closed, he put on his cock cage, then his underwear and stretchy gray sweatpants, his bra with washable pads to absorb the milk, and his extra large blue plaid shirt he hoped the milk wouldn’t soak for once. It didn’t fully cover his tum, but he couldn’t afford even bigger shirts.

Po glanced in the mirror and regretted it, as always. He had an awkward pear shape to him, bottom heavy, with a belly that looked like he was on his way to the hospital to drop twins. His hair was a mess, but no one stared at his hair. His forward-pointing horns were the only part of him that still looked semi-menacing.

At least there was a little life in his eyes, but they were still baggy and tired. Whatever. It was the best he could do.

Back already aching in anticipation, Po put on his shoes—slip-ins, because he couldn’t bend down to tie laces—and waddled to the grocery store. He checked in and took his usual place in the back storage room, hefting boxes to and from the shelves and sorting products for the other employees. Boss gave him a break every hour or so to use the bathroom and dump all the eggs he could into a cooler box. He’d take it home with a shopping cart to empty into his fridge when it got full.

“Oh hey,” another employee said, waving to Po. Must be a new guy. Most people got sick of trying to socialize with him when he reflexively came in the middle of their conversation. Somehow, this blue demon was even more overweight than he was, jiggling as he strode over. “Nice to see another Gluttony demon on the job. I’m used to being the only one getting fat-shamed while stocking the shelves.”

Po groaned. “Not a Gluttony demon. Wrath.”

The other fat man paused. “With those hips? And a gut like that?”

“I was cursed by a witch,” he said for the millionth time. “I lay eggs like a chicken.”

He surprised Po by nodding. “Neat. You sell ‘em?”

“I-.” Brain short-circuiting, Po froze like the laggy livestream, almost dropping his box. “Do I SELL THEM? What?!”

“Sorry, man, I didn’t know that was offensive to ask.”

“No no no, hold on,” Po said, shoving the box back onto the shelf and cornering the new guy. “What do you mean ‘do I sell them’? You can sell demon eggs?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I think so. Went to that sex shop two blocks down with my Lust boyfriend the other day and they had some oviposition eggs.”

For the first time in months, Po didn’t waddle straight home after clocking out. Instead, he staggered down the street in the direction Tom Atosoup, the new guy, had directed him.

The Lusty Little Waitress sat recessed into the darkness between two other shops, just as he’d said. Even though the windows were dark with blackout curtains, the pink neon sign on the wooden door said it was open, so he invited himself inside.

His belly entered first, followed by the rest of him. A little bell rung above the door, and the smells of silicone and assorted fruit assaulted his nose. Po’s eyes adjusted to the pink mood lightning, and he looked around at the shelves, flustered by all the artificial cocks in every shape and style. Golly.

Twiddling his thumbs, he sidled up to the counter and caught the cashier’s attention.

“Yo,” she said, looking up from her porn magazine. The busty demon adjusted her heart-shaped glasses and got a good look at Po. “Let me guess; looking for a toy to induce labor. Well, we have a vast selection of-”

“Not a pregnant woman,” Po groaned, explaining for the million-and-first time. “I’m a Wrath demon with a Lust curse; I lay eggs.” He scratched the back of his neck. “That’s…actually what I came here to ask about.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You want to put…more eggs…in that already stuffed gut?”

“No,” he said, pinching his temples. He tried to gesture with his hands. “I want to put fewer eggs…in my-…I want to sell my eggs. If that’s a thing demons do?” Oof, he felt stupid saying it out loud. Who in the nine hells would want anything that came out of Po when he came?

Magazine set on the counter, the cashier nodded. “Oh, I gotcha. Uh, I don’t actually know what our policy for local businesses is. We don’t exactly get many Lust artists in the Wrath capital.”

He didn’t figure they did.

“Well, I could sample your wares and try to persuade my manager to put them on the shelves next to the other oviposition products.”

Po felt his face heat up, although he was sure she could only see his crimson blush on the blue left side of his face. “Sa-sample my wares?”

She let out a snort. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

He pointed down. “I was today years old when I learned oviposition was a thing some demons do for fun and are willing to pay money for.”

“Alright, well, I won’t beat around the yolks,” she said, digging behind the counter and handing him an empty mason jar. “I’ll need you to lay me a few of those fine eggs to fill my orifices.”

Po felt his heart stop for a second.

“Come in next week and I’ll tell you how it went.”

He’d…never had his eggs inside another demon before. Po had no idea what would happen. The thought mortified and exhilarated him. Like hell he wanted to subject someone to that, but he had to know. In The Lusty Little Waitress’s bathroom, he dropped his pants, pried his cage off, and furiously jacked it until he came a baker’s dozen eggs into the mason jar, overflowing the damn thing.

The week dragged as Po struggled to distract himself until next Friday, anticipating the oviposition results. He mixed eggs, milk, and a little chocolate powder from the store in the blender and sat down with his shake to watch Conquest.

Thro wiped the blood off her forehead. “Phew. Let’s take a break.” She sat on the nearest fallen log while Kat and Nunch collapsed in the grass beside her.

“Have fun with your break,” Morn said, marching further out across the plain to find more house-sized ants to cut in half.

“Dammit, you masochist,” Kat said, slapping the ground. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull-ass little bitch.”

He ignored her.

Friday evening, Po carted the cooler home and back before arriving at The Lusty Little Waitress at six. He pushed open the door and headed for the counter. “So, how’d it go?”

Goldme Dal, the heart glasses cashier, sat slumped back in her chair, hands shaking as she held a bucket of barf on her lap.

Po flinched. “Oh. Oh, they’re bad, aren’t they? Like really, really bad.”

“B-bad?” she asked, trembling. “No. ‘Bad’ is…definitely not the word I’d use to describe those fucking things.”

She had him pull up a chair and sit with her to talk.

“You’ve got the most potent shit I’ve ever tried churning away in that belly, Po,” Goldme said, giving his monstrous middle a gentle pat. “Are you sure Po isn’t short for Potent?”

He blushed. “It’s short for ‘polearm’.”

“That was a joke, but those eggs sure the hell aren’t. I took ‘em on Monday—swallowed one, one up my ass, one up my cooch, and I cracked one open to taste the filling since you mentioned you eat them, and holy Hazaelia in a hailstorm, Po, they obliterated me.”

Flustered, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be, but also that’s not an insult,” she said. “The filling is the most potent aphrodisiac I’ve ever tried. Had to recruit both my Lust and Greed trans girlfriends to rail me like a train for twelve hours straight.”

What? Po was confused. That couldn’t be what made him so horny, because he’d been like this before he started eating them to regain his energy. Whatever they did to others, he was immune.

“I’m like you: despite my job, I’m a Pride demon, but those damn eggs practically turned me into a Lust demon for the whole day. Pretty sure the girls got me pregnant—that’s why I’m sick.”

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, feeling even smaller than usual. “Con-…Congratulations?”

Goldme grinned, reaching under the counter. “Thanks. And here are the fruits of our labor.”

“…Huh?” Po’s eyes about shot out of his skull as he watched her heft an egg the size of a honeydew melon onto the counter. She set it down with a loud THUNK that rattled the glass display and all the stuff inside. Then she huffed and puffed as she hefted two more next to it. They cracked the glass. Po gaped so wide he thought his jaw might hit the floor. “Tho-! Those aren’t MY eggs!”

Arms crossed, she frowned. “You’ve really never seen them after incubating?”

“They’ve never been incubated before!”

He couldn’t believe it, but they had to be his. They were the same obsidian black, with the same curly heart design, but now with an iridescent sunburst effect around the edges. They were kind of beautiful. In like a ‘my holes hurt just looking at these evil things’ kind of way.

Oh fuck, if Po had to lay THOSE through his dick, they’d kill him. He felt his tri-hourly orgasm coming on and struggled to hold it back.

And then Goldme smirked and said something that broke the dam. “You’re one hell of an ovi demon, Po. Those giant eggs could make a Wrath general weep with ecstasy.”

Involuntarily, he pictured General Morn cradling a swelling paunch as it pushed out from under his black tunic, biting his thin, elegant lip as glistening tears welled up in his shimmering crimson eyes, and Po’s orgasm hit him like a freight train. He nearly fell out of his chair, clutching the counter and moaning like a cheap whore, but at least the cock cage stopped him from flooding his jeans with eggs.

“Hah! You really like that idea, huh?” Goldme pat him on the back, then tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe I should put that line on the label…”

Nunch carried Thro, unconscious and covered in her own blood, to a safe bench behind the cathedral ruins where she could rest, then peered back around the building to see how the others were holding up.

Kat went down to a fierce bash from the dragon cult leader’s tail, skidding across the cobblestones. The other cultists surrounded her and Morn.

“Filthy demons,” the cult leader sneered, raising his tail to strike the retired general. “In the name of the great drake Tabbiramae, die!”

Morn sighed, but instead of raising his blade, he flared his Hellfire. The cultists buckled under the immense magical weight of his Pressure power, crushing their souls like the retired general pressed a giant hand down on the crowd. Only then did he lift his greatsword and behead the staggered dragon cult leader.

Some demons inherited Hellfire from their parents, and those who didn’t later received one from a lesser demon god or goddess when they reached the rank of captain in their respective army—which Po’d been so close to when they’d discharged him, damn that witch. The right enhancement Hellfire might’ve given him the strength to fight despite the curse.

Hellfire was a drop of the elder demon gods’ magic. It bled into a demon’s soul and planted a seed of power there. The more you used it, the stronger it grew, until you plateaued at a monstrous level of magical ability. Then you had to undergo a harrowing journey to remove the lock and chains of mortality from your soul, or something like that, and ascend to the volcanic peak of Mount Tabbiramae to obtain the power of a natural disaster. Only then could you be promoted to general, and it was unfortunately something Morn hadn’t done on camera.

Then, to be promoted to admiral, you needed to ascend to lesser godhood. There were only two ways to do that: be chosen by one of the elder or younger demon gods, or earn their blessing by finding and drinking from a Devil’s Chalice. For some unfathomable reason, Elder Demon Ambrellosh hadn’t been impressed enough to Ascend Morn, so he researched and sought the hidden chalices across the Otherworlds.

With the cultists slaughtered, Morn flicked some of the blood off his greatsword and found his brother behind the cathedral. “Thro’s alive, right?”

“Yeah,” Nunch said, leaning against the stone wall. “She’s resting, which is what we should all be doing before we go after the rest of the cult.”

Morn stalked away. “You can rest. I’ll handle them myself.”

Nunch huffed.

Kat lifted her head, yelling from the courtyard in the background. “Take a break, you damn masochist!”

Morn ignored her.

Friday finally came around again, and Goldme had something to show him.

“Ta-dah! Here they are!” she said, unveiling three clear plastic tubes with black labels down the front. Each featured a neon pink mushroom cloud in the shape of a heart, with the words:

~O~
~V~
~I~

Nuclear
Grade
Pleasure
Eggs

So potent a Wrath general would weep with eggstasy.~

“Holy fuck,” Po choked, laughing and holding his stomach as the eggs clacked around inside. “You’re amazing, Goldme. I love them.”

She gave him a thumbs up. “Designed them myself.”

After calming down, he rubbed his arm. “Um…It’s just…You know…I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but…”

“They’re small, yeah,” she said. “They’ll only fit three eggs each.”

“So nine total?”

“Yep.”

“That’s fewer than I lay in a single sitting,” Po sighed, frowning at the tiny tubes.

Goldme shook her head. “It’s all my stupid manager would buy. The other brands are made in big Lust factories, so they’re cheap in bulk, and customers already trust them.”

Yeah, there was no way Po could compete with that. He knew this was too good to be true as soon as Tom brought it up. So much for making a living with the only thing his body was good for anymore.

“Who knows though,” she said, trying to reassure him with a pat on the back. “Maybe they’ll grow in people—I mean ON people.”

Chapter Text

“Afternoon, you damn demons,” Nunch said as Tuesday’s stream started.

Po shut off the shower to listen.

“We’ve got a hell of an adventure planned today. The Nunch Box is headed into the dreaded Crystal Caverns in search of another Devil’s Chalice. And some of the crystals…are alive!”

“Not for long they won’t be,” Kat said, strapping on her backpack.

The four Wrath warriors marched across the simmering red stones of Wrathgard’s courtyard to the archway for one of its portals. Green light strung itself between the arches as the portal roared open, revealing a yawning cavern that twisted into the earth, walls peppered with clusters of glowing blue crystals.

Towel laid on the bathroom floor, Po made himself comfortable with his bucket as he watched the warriors venture into the creepy cavern. The crystals came to life, crawling out of the walls and revealing themselves as crystal-covered dragons. Drawing their weapons, the warriors started smashing the beasts left and right, descending as they cleared the path.

Eventually, Po needed to leave for work, so he closed his laptop and waddled off to stack boxes.

Four hours later, he returned and rejoined the stream, laptop perched on his desk.

“For the love of Elder Demon Ambrellosh, tell me that’s the last of them,” Kat gasped, dropping her blade and leaning on her knees, breathing heavily. She looked sick.

“There are probably more in the next chamber,” Thro said, smashing the stilled corpse of another crystal dragon.

Morn crushed a handful of crystals and opened his mouth, lifting his hand high and sprinkling them between his teeth. Man didn’t even chew, he just swallowed the chunks whole.

Nunch returned from further down just in time to catch him doing it. He blinked. “I didn’t know these were edible. Are they like rock candy?”

“No. They made me vomit up my entire stomach,” Kat said. “Morn’s just a monster.”

Morn smirked. “They scrape my guts in a good way. Gotta eat my fiber.”

Thro groaned, leaning against the wall. “Do you even know what fiber is, or was that a joke?” Something past a wide crack in the crystal wall caught her eye, and she turned around to examine it.

While Morn and Nunch were laughing, Kat tapped her chin in thought. The cameraman slowly zoomed on her face as her wicked little mouth slowly curled at the edges into a smug, sinister, shit-eating grin. Oh no, what was she scheming?

“So, Morn,” Kat began as she sidled over to the taller man. “You like things that scrape your guts, huh?”

Morn, immediately on guard, frowned. “Uh. Yes? I guess? Why?”

“Well, the other day when I was grocery store hopping for gross candy, I stumbled upon this little, uh…” Her eyes drifted away, then back to him. “‘Restaurant’.”

For a moment, Po wondered if she’d ever stopped by the store he worked at, but he’d never know, what with being confined to the storage room.

Nunch wrinkled his nose. “Why do I not like the way you said ‘restaurant’?”

“You inviting me to dinner?” Morn asked. “With your obnoxious ass? Not a chance.”

Chuckling, Nunch pat them both on the back. “Aw, the MornKat shippers are crying.”

She shook her head. “Like hell I’d eat with you, let alone at this place. Nah, I’ve got a challenge for you.”

“I’m listening,” Morn said.

“I’m also listening,” Nunch said. “Let’s do it on the show later.”

“No, this one isn’t for the show.” Kat flicked her hand to tell the audience to fuck off and disregard this. “I’m saying it now because I thought of it just now. But this is a private gauntlet for Morn’s eyes—and guts—alone.”

Crystals in hand, he dropped more into his waiting maw. “You forget you’re talking to the guy who ate an entire Poison Death Angel from the Toxic Wastes of Rollingol’s desert world and walked away without even a stomachache? Bitch, I can handle anything you throw at me.”

Kat’s evil smile curled back onto her face like she just snared the other demon in a bear trap. “Exactly what I wanted to hear. So here’s the challenge: when we return to Wrathgard tonight, I’m gonna stop by that ‘restaurant’ and pick up ‘takeout’ for you, and you have to sample everything in the bag.”

He swallowed, leaning back from her by an inch. “Sample? Not finish?”

Confused, she scratched her head. “Uh…We can work out a detail or two later. Also, I don’t want to watch. I’ll take it on an honor system. You’re a Wrath demon, but you’ve got a prideful soul; you wouldn’t lie to me and the peeps at home about trying everything when you didn’t.”

He sighed. “No, I wouldn’t. You’re on. So what do I get when I win?”

“Punishment of your choice,” she said, gesturing to herself.

“And if reality breaks and I for some reason can’t sample everything?”

“Then I get to punish you.”

“Fair enough.” After a moment of thought, he nodded. “I’m not paying you for the food.”

“Fine,” she said, watching him turn and join Thro. They talked for a moment before stalking further into the cavern.

Kat took a step forward to follow, but Nunch grabbed her by the arm. He whispered to the demon woman, although the cameraman snuck close enough to pick up their conversation. “Hey, what is this really about? This challenge of yours is sus as fuck.”

“Don’t worry about it. I have a plan,” she said.

“A plan for what?”

She heaved a sigh. Despite her vicious rivalry with the retired general, Kat looked solemn and serious for once in her life. “A plan to make the damn man relax. He’s working himself to death, Nunch. You know your brother, he’s-…It’s like he really can’t sit still for five fucking minutes.”

Nunch shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. So you’re buying him what exactly…?”

“Stuff that will make him mellow out for a few hours,” she said. “And if he refuses to use it, I’m gonna punish him with a spa day.”

He blinked. “Weed?”

Kat laughed until she about choked on her own spit again. “Hhhhhh-! Stream idea: we make Morn try weed.”

“Brilliant, but now I’m even more curious what you bought.”

With a sigh, she shooed the cameraman and took him aside to whisper directly into his pointy little ear with her hand cupped around it so no one could read her lips.

Nunch choked on his own laughter. “Oh, okay. So, uh, when you punish Morn with that spa day, do you want that to just be what we do for the stream?”

“Sounds like a plan. We’ll all go.”

Po brought his laptop, and the bucket below his desk, to his tiny kitchen to make dinner. He was insulted by Nunch’s confidence that his brother would fail Kat’s challenge, mulling over it while he heated a pan on the stove.

Kat, Nunch, and the cameraman joined the others in the next chamber.

Thro stood by an underground river, watching translucent blue fish jump out of the water. “Yes, I knew what I saw. Ghost fish.”

Nunch joined her at the riverbank. “Dinner.”

“Dinner,” Kat and Morn agreed.

Good to know they were on the same page. Po and the Nunch Box all sat down to eat at about the same time. Nunch and Thro changed their minds about how appetizing the fish looked when they caught a whiff of the cooked translucent flesh, but Po thought they looked delicious. Way better than his usual meal of a gallon egg shake and mixing bowl full of scrambled eggs. He’d kill to taste those ghost fish.

Nunch frowned at their artifact expert. “So what’s so special about these fish?”

Thro paused to chew and swallow. “I’d like to do more research this weekend and get back to you guys on Monday. We’re not going to clear the cavern this week.”

“Don’t tell me they’ve made you second-guess whether there’s a Chalice here.”

“No, I still think it’s here.” She grit her teeth, staring at her half-eaten fish. “I think I’ve…mistaken which greater god it belongs to.”

The Nunch Box fought more crystal dragons until they’d completely exhausted themselves—except Morn. Kat reminded him of her challenge, and that’s the only reason he agreed to leave. Retreating into the portal was usually smarter and more comfortable than camping unless they needed to hold down a fort overnight, so that’s what they tended to do. They returned to Wrathgard, and Kat jogged off to stop by that restaurant while Nunch closed out the stream.

When Po sat at his desk the next day to eat lunch before work, Nunch, Thro, and Kat were still milling around the closed portal, clean and with fresh clothes, carrying backpacks burdened with replenished supplies, waiting to set out.

Thro checked her antique wristwatch. “Where’s Morn?”

Nunch shrugged.

“Is he sick?”

“Pff. Morn doesn’t get sick,” he said. “Seriously, I don’t think he’s caught a single bug his entire life.”

They both turned on Kat.

Kat flinched. “The hell are you getting up my ass for?”

Thro crossed her arms. “Well, he was supposed to be doing your stupid challenge last night, and now he’s missing.”

“I told you what it really was before we started today’s stream,” she snapped. “You guys know I didn’t do anything malicious. Fucker’s just fine.”

Nunch removed his pack, setting it on the red stone floor. “Yeah, but…Well…I obviously don’t want details, but how sure are you that you didn’t buy him anything he could seriously hurt himself with?”

“What the hell could you buy at any store that could seriously hurt Morn Fucking Ingstar?” she asked. However, Kat’s eyes did dart away for an instant, and Po wondered if she thought of something.

Bah. Po had faith in the general. He wouldn’t be done in by Kat’s stupid challenge. Morn was made of sterner stuff.

“Well,” Nunch began with a sarcastic shrug. “Making Morn take a day off was the goal, so I guess we’ve succeeded. If he’s having fun beating your dumb challenge, that’s all I care about.”

Cheeks dark blue with blush, Thro covered her mouth and nodded.

When Po returned from work, Morn still hadn’t. Apparently they’d decided to forgo the Crystal Caverns without him, because Nunch and Kat were competing in a small tournament in the courtyard with the other demons of Wrathgard, and Po assumed Thro ran off to do more research on the gods.

He made a glass of cold milk and an overflowing plate of deviled eggs with chili flakes from the grocery store and sat down to watch the tournament.

Po had enjoyed all of two rounds when Morn slammed open Wrathgard’s back door and the jumpscare made him cum. Ugh.

Nunch left his opponent lying face-down in the ring. “Yo, bro. Welcome back.”

He marched right past the red demon man, hunting down Kat in the stone bleachers.

“Welcome back, jackass,” she said, waving. “You have fun last night?”

Morn grabbed her by the throat, lifting her out of her seat. “You…”

Kat choked, clawing at his arm. “Uh, d-did I, um, get you something that…disagreed with you…?”

The retired general had never looked so worse for wear. His azure skin was pale, the bags under his eyes were dark and puffy like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, and his eyes twitched with bloodlust like this might actually be the day he murdered Kat. “You gave me…something EVIL…”

She let out a shallow, wheezing laugh. “Wh-which one…?”

“The fuck do you mean WHICH ONE?” He poured on his Pressure, and Kat sputtered as his magic vice squeezed her soul.

“The-…The spicy eggs…?” she asked.

Po glanced down at his lunch. Spicy eggs?

“Yes. Those.” Morn forced himself to let up and loosen his grip before he seriously hurt her.

Kat caught her breath and rubbed her neck. “So the spicy eggs lived up to your spicy eggspectations. Did you even try anything else?”

He nodded, cheeks burning. “Yeah, I mean, I told you I’d do the challenge.”

She looked stunned. “So you actually sampled it all?”

“Yeah,” he said. Morn rubbed the back of his neck. “The ‘flavored drinks’ were fine. The ‘donuts’ were small. I guess the ‘sausages’ were okay. And the eggs weren’t very interesting—except those spicy ones.”

“Wow, man, I-…I’m impressed.” Kat crossed one leg over the other, fidgeting. “And I was so confident you wouldn’t that I had an entire grueling gauntlet of punishment planned. We were gonna do a whole show dedicated to torturing you.”

A vein pulsed in his forehead. “Excuse me?”

“But you did it. Congratulations, Morn.” She pat him on the arm. Then a visible shudder ran down her spine and she dropped her jaw. “Oh gods, now you’re gonna punish me with those spicy eggs, aren’t you?! Morn, wait, we can talk about this!”

“No,” he said, hands up in surrender. “I won’t, I mean. I wouldn’t make you eat one of those evil things.”

Kat heaved a sigh of relief so heavy she deflated like a balloon. “Thank Ambrellosh, you scared me for a second.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “You’re such a merciful demon-god-to-be, Morn.”

Morn paused. His broad shoulders slumped, and Po had never seen the staggeringly tall wall of muscle of a demon general look so small and shy. “That’s, uh…not why.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“Can you…?” He stopped to choose his words, then pulled out his slim azure wallet and handed her a stack of cash. “Can you go…back to the ‘restaurant’…and buy me another…?”

The demoness stood there staring, absolutely fucking dumbfounded. Then she buckled and choked on her own spit in another laughing fit.

Nunch sauntered over. “Still don’t want details, but can you give me some idea of what the hell happened?”

Kat caught her breath, wiping spit and snot off her face. “Alright, so, I sort of kind of maybe might have mistakenly poisoned poor Morn,” she said. “And this fucking masochist wants to go back for more.”

Exasperated, Nunch forced a smile and slapped his brother on the arm. “Great. Have fun with that.”

“I-it’s not what it sounds like,” Morn said. “I just…Well, you know…Just that I’m monstrously strong, and it’s hard to find things that can challenge my power anymore, even in the Otherworlds.”

“Mhm,” Nunch said, returning to the tournament.

While Morn asked again if Kat would go buy more eggs and she told him to fetch the fucking things himself, Po stuffed his face and filled in the blanks with his own eggs. Gods, he got off so hard on the idea of HIS eggs making the Wrath general weep with eggstasy and prompting him to return for another tube.

Po didn’t actually believe that’s what happened, of course. That’s just how his mind worked. Eggs were too personal a topic for him to not reflexively imagine every egg ever mentioned was one of his.

That night after the stream, he caught up on the tournament fights he missed at work and read Nunch Box fanfiction until he fell asleep. Somebody wrote a short story where Morn went to eat toxic food at a restaurant in a poison-based Otherworld, and the eggs in question were dragon eggs made of molten lava. Another featured him stuffing Kat with toxic garbage until she died of food poisoning and a ruptured stomach, and the latest fic explored what their wholesome spa day might have been like. All good stuff.

Friday evening, Po washed a dozen eggs in the kitchen sink, dried them, and dumped them in a plastic bag. He took it with him to The Lusty Little Waitress, waddling in the door and waving to the cashier.

Goldme waved back. “Yo, Po.”

“How’d it go?” he asked, worried and curious as he sidled up to the counter. “Did you sell any?”

“Sure did,” she said. “Pull up a seat. It was actually kind of a rollercoaster.”

He did, the eggs inside him jostling as he plopped into the chair.

“So, initially, three separate customers each bought a tube to try—a man and two women. One of the women left for two hours and came back to return it, saying her boyfriend was an artifact analyst and he got a bad feeling from the eggs.”

“Oh,” Po said, embarrassed. Well, they did manifest from a witch’s curse. He supposed that made sense and struggled to blame the couple.

“Then the man returned his partially used tube with two eggs left,” Goldme continued. “Said they were way too fucking much for him.”

Slumped in his chair, the egg-laying demon shrugged. “Understandable. I’m used to being too fucking much for people.”

She pat his shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He shook his head. “Sure. So, did the other woman keep hers?”

“Better than that,” Goldme said. “Real tall woman. Super friendly. Bought a whole bunch of stuff for her buddy to relax after work and thought the Nuclear Grade Pleasure Eggs were the funniest thing she’d ever seen. And apparently said friend adored your eggs, because he—also super fucking tall—showed up the next day to see if we had more. I sold him the returned tube and the partial tube, and he asked when we’d have more in stock. Told him Saturday mornings.”

Po didn’t think he should be so painfully happy one guy liked his eggs, but his heart still swelled with joy. His stomach swelled as well, but he ignored that as best he could.

Chapter Text

Between the rocky landscape, the absurd number of crystal dragons, and retreating every evening to recover, the Nunch Box spent weeks picking their way through the Crystal Caverns. They and Po fell into a comfortable routine.

The egg-laying demon cleaned up nine eggs after work every Friday and brought them to The Lusty Little Waitress. Goldme gave him his payment and let him know the previous batch had been bought by that same guy on Saturday morning. The money didn’t stretch very far since the store bought so few, but it helped add new spices and snacks to Po’s diet.

After Kat’s challenge introduced him to the mysterious ‘restaurant’ with the spicy eggs, Morn’s behavior changed. He showed up every Monday morning looking especially refreshed from the weekend. Even smiled sometimes, which shocked the others and the audience. The retired general usually only smirked over an evil plan or at Kat’s suffering—he didn’t grin because he’d had a nice break. Until now. It was strange, but nice.

Of course, his good humor slowly wore off over the week. By Wednesday, he was back to his grumpy old self, grumbling and overworking while the others rested. By Friday, he was antsy to be off Conquest for the next couple days.

Kat picked up a crystal the size of her entire body and smashed it over Morn’s head. “Quit spacing out!”

Morn growled, blood streaming down his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “You wanna die?”

Head lowered, she shuffled forward and poked him in the back with her four stubby horns. “Yeah, and you wanna be off eating that waitress’ spicy eggs instead of searching for the stupid chalice, you distracted bastard. Fucking egg waitress. Scrambled eggs that scramble your brains.”

He grabbed the demoness by the scruff of her neck like a misbehaving kitten and pitched her into the underground river. She surfaced, screaming, with five ghost fish latched to her face and neck, trying to make a meal of her.

The camera shifted left and right like the cameraman shook his head, then turned to the other two.

Nunch held his shoes as he walked barefoot along the crystal dust beach beside his companion. “Think the cup will be intact this time?”

“Oh, I don’t think it’ll be a cup this time,” Thro said.

He frowned. “Isn’t that what a chalice is? Tall cup? Bowl on stick?”

“Yes, and the first few chalices were literal chalices, but it’s since become more of a name than a statement. Like how my name is ‘throwing star’, but I’m not a star-shaped blade traditionally thrown by ninjas. I’m a Wrath demon—a living weapon named after an inanimate weapon.”

“Gotcha,” he said, turning to the camera. “Give us a history lesson for the demons at home.”

Thro sighed, counting on her fingers as she explained. “Four Ancient Gods wove the vines of the multiverse and created five Elder Gods to grow the fruit of worlds. The Elder Gods created four Younger Gods to rule alongside them. Those thirteen are known collectively as the Greater Gods, and they each Ascend Lesser Gods among the mortals they rule as servants to tend their gardens.”

Nunch nodded for her to go on.

“A Greater God can pour the Ascending power of heaven and hell directly into a mortal’s soul, or they can pour it into a container for later. Then they can make mortals compete for that container, such as by having them fight to the death in a tournament, or wander a labyrinth like we’re doing. That is a Devil’s Chalice—or an Angel’s Chalice for the cowardly men and elves who worship only the non-demonic gods,” she said, clenching her fist. “They’re the same thing. Some demonic gods have ascended angels and vice versa.”

“Wow. I-. I didn’t know that,” Nunch said, taken aback. A crystal crab bit his toe and he kicked it back into the river. “So, how exactly do you find a Chalice?”

Thro raised her hands, glowing with magic. “Mages who have mastered sensing souls can feel the Ascending light of a God or Chalice.”

“And how do you tell the difference between the two?”

“That’s the neat part,” she said. “You don’t.”

Nunch fell over.

Morn joined them, kicking his brother in the rib. “You just have to guess, dumbass. Find an Ascending light in a remote location and cross your fingers that it’s not just some Lesser God’s vacation home.”

Thro helped Nunch up. “The lights also overlap, so you can’t tell how many Gods and Chalices there are in an area until you investigate. They can hide each other, and that’s why we search remote otherworlds, because you’d never find a Chalice in a populated area where Lesser Gods live among us.”

“Can’t even bet on the Chalices being sus enough to identify as magical artifacts without powers like Thro’s, ‘cause they’re not all fancy cups,” Morn said.

Snorting like a pig, Nunch shrugged for the camera. “Few blocks down from a Lesser God’s house, Devil’s Chalice just chilling in the fridge between the milk and mayonnaise.”

Morn snorted.

“You joke, but-…” Thro had to stop and choke back a laughing fit. “You jest, but almost that exact thing has actually happened.”

He gaped. “Huh? You’re kidding.”

“No. No, mages do occasionally find Chalices just hanging out in people’s houses. Greed Admiral Mint S tried to sell an old box of antiques, realized the store owner tried to rip her off, paid a mage to appraise the box and discovered it was one of Harkencastle’s Chalices.”

“Wasn’t there also that one guy? Uh…” Morn thought. “Greed-…No. Gluttony Admiral…Lo Vehandles? Guy who used Silkmoon’s Chalice as an infinitely refilling snack bowl for years without realizing. Then he got shot on the battlefield and his blood boiled like god’s blood.”

“He was a captain when he was shot, but they promoted him directly to admiral.”

Nunch picked his ear. “That feels like cheating.”

She shrugged.

Arms crossed, Morn elbowed his brother. “Yeah, but the gods are biased trolls and assholes, even to their own armies. They’re tricksters who make dumb choices and fuck with people for fun. As far as Elder Demon Ambrellosh cares, if you’re fortunate enough to drink from a Devil’s Chalice and Ascend, the universe has deemed you worthy,” he said. “She doesn’t give a shit how you did it.”

Goldme leaned back in her chair, petting the small bulge of her lower belly.

“Oh, you’re already showing,” Po said, handing over the plastic bag full of eggs.

“I know,” she said, smiling. “Doctor said I’m having triplets.”

“Wow. You’ll really have your womb full—I mean your hands full.”

She laughed, fishing his payment and the next empty tubes out from under the counter. “Thanks. My girlfriends will take good care of us.”

Po stuffed the money in his wallet and paused, watching her tilt a tube and gently slide three eggs inside, one at a time. He cleared his throat. “So, um…It’s still the same guy? Every time?”

“Yep,” she said. “Saturday morning, like clockwork, Three Tube Dude waits by the door until we open, ducks inside, buys his three tubes and sometimes flavored lube, and walks off into the sunrise like a lone cowboy.”

“Cool.” Eggs clacking inside him as he shifted, Po stopped to consider whether he really wanted to prod for more details. He got off so hard to the fantasy that Three Tube Dude was secretly Morn Ingstar, passing the sex shop off as a ‘restaurant’ to spare his shame, addicted to the nuclear grade pleasure eggs that could make even a Wrath general like him weep with eggstasy, because the timing lined up too well. But he also knew that was fucking insane, and didn’t want to be delusional about it. Three Tube Dude definitely wasn’t the retired general, and Po wanted evidence to prove it to himself so he could fantasize for fun without genuinely wondering. “So, uh…Can you…tell me anything? About Three Tube Dude.”

Goldme pressed the lid onto the first tube and popped open the second. “Like what?”

“Well, can you tell me what he looks like? Besides that he’s super fucking tall,” he said, because Morn was super fucking tall. Po pixel-measured him against a pop can once, and the general had to be about eleven-foot-three, not counting his horns. Massive man. Mountainous. Morn wouldn’t be able to stand up straight in Po’s apartment, he’d have to crawl. And yes, Po got off to that idea too.

“Oh, I’m not kidding about him being tall. Like taller than the ceiling tall,” she said, pointing to the plastic panels about ten feet above the tiled floor. “He has to duck low under the doorframe and keep his back hunched so his horns don’t scrape it.”

Great, he’s at least Morn’s height. “Thin?”

“No, he’s built like a Lesser God,” she sighed, swooning. “Muscles for miles. I think.”

“You think?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Goldme shrugged. “Look, I’m not supposed to gossip about customers. But I’d totally break the rules for you, Po. But I don’t actually know what he looks like, because he always wears a magic cloak.”

Po’s eyes widened. “A magic cloak? You mean a shadow cloak?”

She thought.

“Black. Silver trim. Makes the wearer’s features, even their horns, appear as a blur of shadowy mist. The only things it can’t hide are your height, general shape, and voice.”

Eyes lighting up, she closed the second tube. “That’s exactly what he wears! Po, do you know this guy?”

Po held his head as he leaned against the counter and moaned through a weak orgasm as the eggs pushed at his cock but failed to fit through the cage around it. “Nooo…I-I wanted you to reassure me I DON’T know this guy.”

Goldme got up and rubbed his back as he reassured himself that many rich and powerful demons owned shadow cloaks. Just because he learned about them from Conquest didn’t mean his customer was Morn. Each of the Nunch Box members owned one, as well as every other general and admiral as far as Po knew, and even many captains, as well as other celebrities and well-off demons. Anyone with the cash to afford one and a reason to conceal themselves in public. The cloak made it obvious the wearer was trying to hide, but hard to tell who was hiding. The only thing better for disguising oneself was a shapeshifting Hellfire.

“Big greatsword?” Po asked, returning to the topic of Three Tube Dude’s identity.

“He wasn’t armed.”

“Speaking of arms, is he left-handed?”

“Now that I think about it, yes.”

“Slim azure wallet?”

“Yes.”

Po puffed up and deepened his voice to mimic the general’s inflection. “Real rough, tough, gruff voice kinda like this?”

Goldme giggled. “I’m not sure? He’s super shy and quiet here, but that could be because he comes in to buy pleasure eggs to nuke his prostate. I’d imagine most tough guys would be embarrassed.”

Gods, Po was so tempted to ask her to address him as General Morn to watch his reaction and see if Po was right, but he’d certainly say no either way, to save face or because he was someone else.

“You could come in on Saturday morning,” she said. “Pretend you’re just another customer. Strike up a conversation with him at the door and see if he sounds familiar.”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Po said, shaking his head like he had a ghost fish latched onto it. “Whether or not he’s who I think he is, this guy must be imagining me as some busty Lust demoness laying cute little eggs from her dainty folds just for him. I wanted to ruin MY fantasy, not HIS.”

She frowned. “Most ovi demons lay through ovipositors like you do, and most customers know that, but I understand if you’re embarrassed too.”

“Can I…?” He paused to think, reaching across his bloated belly to rub his arm. “Can I write him a thank-you letter? I don’t want to meet him—or rather I don’t want him to meet me—but I’d like to thank him for being my only customer.” Eyes closed, he took a deep breath. “You have no idea how much it means to have someone think I’m good for something.”

Goldme gave him a sorrowful look that stung his pride, but she found him a pretty pink gel pen and black stationary to write Three Tube Dude a letter. Po pored over what to write until after his next involuntary orgasm, when he realized he’d have to hurry so he could head home and lay his eggs.

Should he ask anything about the guy? No, too invasive. Should he mention how much he struggled and the context to how invested he’d become? Nah, Po didn’t want to make himself sound pathetic.

Eventually, he scribbled down a decent note:

‘Dear super tall guy. Thanks for buying my eggs. You’re my only customer, and it fills me with joy to know I’ve filled you with joy.’

He paused to think. Then continued:

‘P.S: Tall guys like you are totally my type. I’m sorry the ceiling is so short, but it’s kind of hot that you have to hunch your back to fit through the door.’

It sounded mostly like a letter a Lust demoness would write, Po thought. Close enough. Maybe it was too honest though. Maybe too forward. Mm. Before the embarrassment set in and he changed his mind, Po gave it to Goldme to hand over when Three Tube Dude next came in for his eggs.

Monday rolled around, and Po pushed his laptop off his belly and rolled out of bed. He showered, shutting off the water when the stream started, and he kneeled on a towel to fill the bucket while Nunch talked, recapping last week’s adventures and shooting the shit with Kat and Thro.

By the time Po carried the bucket and his laptop to the kitchen to cook breakfast, they still hadn’t departed. He was starting to get antsy. If they didn’t leave soon, he wouldn’t get to see much of their adventure before he had to leave.

Antique wristwatch raised to her face, Thro sighed. “Where’s Morn?”

“Did that asshat poison himself again?” Kat snapped, stabbing her blade between the stones and slamming her butt down in one of the arena seats.

Nunch crossed his arms, idling beside her. “Are we gonna have to stage an intervention for this man’s egg addiction? Is that what we’re doing this stream?”

Oh boy. Annoyed, Po turned up the volume and turned on the blender to mix his shake. He’d gotten it to the right texture when he glanced at the screen and saw Morn Ingstar crossing the courtyard to join his crew. The retired general seemed distracted, staring absently at something black in his left hand, held close to his chest.

Kat sprinted across the courtyard and head-butted his arm like a goat, making him drop it. “Whatcha reading, jackass?”

“Dammit, Kat!” he snapped, grabbing her by the hair. Morn threw her across the courtyard, but he was too slow to grab the fallen paper, and the stone under it rose and floated out of reach. He made a strangled noise.

Thro’s rock-manipulation Hellfire brought it to her. She unfolded the note, scanning what Po assumed were words before covering her mouth as an excited gasp escaped. “Oh my gods, it’s a sappy love letter!”

Morn’s face burned. “No!”

Nunch cracked up laughing, jogging up to Thro to stare over her shoulder. “A sappy love letter for the tough as nails retired general? Please, do go on.”

Po’s eyebrows rose as he sipped his shake. They had a mailbox for fan letters they sometimes read, especially when it was just Nunch and Thro, because the other two weren’t interested, and the hot, buff military man raked in dozens of love letters every week, apparently. But he’d never fondly held onto one.

Said general growled, and Nunch and his best friend staggered as he used his Pressure Hellfire on them, but he didn’t turn it up high enough to hurt his friends, so they ignored him.

Throat cleared, Thro put on her cutest reading voice. “Dear super tall guy. Thanks for buying my eggs.”

Po choked.

“You’re my only customer,” she read, swooning. “And it fills me with joy to know I’ve filled you with joy.~”

Chapter Text

Po covered his mouth just in time to stop himself from spitting egg shake all over his laptop. It went down the wrong pipe, squirted up through his sinuses and out his nose, and spilled between his fingers, down his face and his clean plaid shirt. He set the shake by the sink, coughing and gasping to get it out of his lungs.

“P.S: Tall guys like you are totally my type,” Thro continued, eyes sparkling. “I’m sorry the ceiling is so short, but it’s kind of hot that you have to hunch your back to fit through the door!” By the end, she was cracking up.

The cyan demoness turned the note around to show the camera. Those were Goldme’s black stationary and the ink from her pink gel pen. That was Po’s scratchy, unstable handwriting. That was Po’s letter. Unquestionably. Morn Ingstar had the letter Po wrote for his only customer. He really was Three Tube Dude.

Were the gods fucking with him? The gods had to be fucking with him. Why was this happening?

“That explains everything,” Nunch announced, marching over to his brother. “This isn’t about the spicy eggs. You’ve been so damn distracted because you’ve got a big stinkin’ crush on the egg waitress.” An evil smile curled his lips as he reached up to pinch the general’s blushing cheeks. “And Egg Waitress has a big stinkin’ crush on you.~”

Morn growled, voice rumbling like a landslide, but he didn’t attack.

Po wasn’t so sure Morn had a crush on him, or the Lusty little waitress he pictured Po to be, but he had to admit to his big stinkin’ crush on the general. And even if Morn wasn’t infatuated, and they dropped the whole thing today, Po knew he’d get off to the knowledge that his hero got off to his nuclear grade pleasure eggs for the rest of his life.

Kat sidled up to him, choking on her own spit. She caught her breath. “I thought they were made by, like, a whole lineup of chefs. Like the others that were too small for you. It’s just one woman? Like she lives in Wrath City? Is she that cashier?”

“Not a pregnant woman,” Po mumbled reflexively, unspooling the paper towels.

“No,” Morn said, turning away from the camera. “The, um…It is one woman, and she does live in the city, but…”

“Not a woman,” he snapped, eye twitching as he cleaned up the mess he made spitting his shake.

“She’s a different waitress. Uh, the cashier said they’re the other waitress’ own recipe.”

Nunch slapped him on the back. “And she makes ‘em special just for you.”

“No,” Morn snapped, but he glanced away like he wasn’t sure of that. “She doesn’t make ‘em special for me, I’m just her only customer. For some reason.”

“Yeah, she makes ‘em special for you.”

Kat and Thro nodded in agreement.

The general grimaced.

“Yeah, that reason is because you’re the only masochist who can handle the damn things,” Kat said, elbowing him in the ribs.

“No,” he said again. Then he scratched his head. “Well, maybe? When I first went back for more, there weren’t any more, so I asked the cashier, and she gave me some that were returned by two other customers.”

Thro handed him back the letter. “So you begged her to feed your addiction.”

“No,” he said. “Okay, well…Y-yes? I guess?”

His three friends surrounded him, staring him down until he started sweating from nerves and slumped his shoulders.

“Fine, I get it,” Morn said. “I’m a powerful Wrath demon with ambitions to become a god and an admiral, and my obsession is weird and shameful. I’m sorry. From now on, I’ll focus on hunting the Devil’s Chalices.”

Po felt a pang of guilt as the cause of his shame. As much as he wanted Morn to keep buying his pleasure eggs, he couldn’t blame him for feeling bad about it, and he couldn’t blame his friends for calling out his unhealthy habit. Morn had better things to do. He had a better life to live, and Po didn’t.

Kat lowered her head, dug her heels in, and head-butted him in the spine. “That’s not what we’re saying, fuckass!”

Morn grunted, rubbing his back. “Then what the fuck are you saying?”

“Are you kidding me?” Nunch asked, grabbing him by the shoulders. “We’ve been trying to get you to chill the hell out for years, Morn. I don’t give a shit that you’re a masochist, I care that you’re a workaholic.”

He and Po both frowned. His brother had a point.

“You destroy yourself with work and training. I’m sick of it. You hide it well on camera, but just because you pretend it isn’t happening doesn’t mean it isn’t. All you do is fight and work out. You’re always stressed. It’s fine to be ambitious, but you’re gonna be one hell of a boring god if your entire personality is war. Why do you think we harassed you for forty days to join the show? Adventure and exploration are so much better for your brain than spending all your time inside your cushy apartment at Wrathgard, lifting weights and whipping yourself.”

Morn hesitated. “So-…What then? You want me to keep buying the eggs?”

“I want you to ask her out, you whipped yolk,” Nunch snapped.

What?

The azure demon gaped like his brother just grew a second head. “Ask her…out?”

Thro bonked him on the noggin with a small rock. “Do you know what a ‘date’ is?”

“Y-yes,” he said, rubbing his head.

Nunch gestured with his hands like he was writing a letter. “Here, here. ‘Dear Egg Waitress, I really enjoy your eggs. Are you free on Saturday?’ It’s not hard.”

He says that, but Po’s never seen Morn so flustered and out of his element. “Huh?”

“Dinner and a movie,” Thro said, giving him two thumbs up. “The classic.”

Kat head-butted him again. “Don’t forget to bring her flowers and chocolates. Fanciest chocolates you can find.”

“What?” Morn asked, stunned.

Po would kill a man for a box of fancy chocolates. He couldn’t afford that gourmet shit. That aside, he had no idea what he’d do if Morn actually asked him out. He couldn’t say yes, obviously. Po couldn’t sit through dinner or a movie; he’d be thrown out of the restaurant or theater for his indecent moaning.

Speaking of which, Po moaned as he felt the eggs flowing down. He grabbed his laptop and the bucket and booked it for the bathroom.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Kat asked, standing on the bleachers to gain some height and smack him upside the head.

Nunch shook his open hands like he wanted to grab his brother’s skull and crush it like a pumpkin. “Dude, she’s into you. She called you hot. How dense can you be?”

“She called me tall.”

“And she said tall guys are her type, and it’s hot that you can’t stand up straight in the restaurant. I get some guys miss the subtle signals, but this is ridiculous,” Nunch said. He turned to the camera. “For the folks at home, my stupid big brother is eleven-foot-three. And I’m only eight-foot-eight because he stole all the tall genes.”

Oh, the other miniscule Wrath demons like four-foot-two Po would eat this man alive for trying to claim short status. Although the girls were nine and ten feet tall, so he probably felt short beside his besties.

Morn shoved Kat off the seat and sat in her place. “I can’t just ask her out.”

Thro plopped down beside him, tapping her chin. “Mm, it sounds like you can, actually.”

Nunch loomed over him, cracking his knuckles. “Do we have to teach you how to go on a date?”

Kat reached around Morn’s head to claw at his eyes. “Tape his eyes open! Make him watch rom-coms until they burn into his retinas!”

“Fuck all the way off, Kat!”

Conquest’s host turned and smirked at the camera. “Today on Conquest Of The Otherworlds, we shoot Morn with a dragon tranquilizer, stuff him in a fancy suit, comb his dirty hair, and make him pick out flowers until he loses his mind among the petunias. Stay tuned.”

Fuck, that sounded really funny, but Po had to finish up and go to work. He kneeled and grabbed his azure dildo—yes, he’d picked an azure one for the obvious reason—from the bag under his sink, giving it a quick wash before he stuck it up his ass without ceremony. Although he didn’t lay eggs back there, his insides were always loose and slick with milk.

Morn grabbed Kat’s arms and slung her across the courtyard. “I can’t ask her out.”

Cheeks puffed up, Thro pouted. “Stop being so stubborn.”

“I’m not being stubborn! She’s just-…” He slumped forward, head held in his hand, wavy black hair tangled around his fingers. “She’s not like us, okay? Egg Waitress isn’t some punk-ass Wrath demon, she’s a delicate Lust demoness.” Morn pursed his lips and knit his brows. He’d never looked so sorrowful. “Not literally, like on Conquest, but…she lives in a completely different world.”

“Not a Lust demon,” Po grumbled reflexively, working his prostate with the dildo. He felt the eggs slide, single-file, into his dick, and he whimpered.

Thro pat her friend’s back. “Don’t be embarrassed. Plenty of people are attracted to Lust demons—they’re very attractive. It’s basically their job to be hot.”

“Not what I meant,” Morn said.

“Well, I know you’re not-…” She paused to think. “‘Racist’ isn’t the right word because we’re all the same race, and different types come from the same parents. Demon type-ist?”

“Demon typist,” Nunch chuckled. “Six hundred and sixty-six words per minute.”

“Also not what I meant.”

This conversation felt too serious to jack it to, but Po had little choice.

Nunch walked around them to sit on Thro’s other side. “Then explain.”

“We’re not like those stupid-ass humans who think skin and junk are good enough reasons to divide them,” he said. “Demons are divided by the color of our souls.”

Po frowned, slowing down.

“That’s not an excuse for discrimination, but it means our cultures are really different because the types are so different, and our cultures bring out the best and worst in us. And maybe some demons can handle that. Some demons get to grow up in a big mixing pot where everyone learns to tamp down their sins and get along, but I didn’t get that.”

Po clamped his thumb over his slit for a minute. He wanted to stay lucid and listen.

“I got taken from my mother and raised in a Wrath army camp. Nunch is my only brother from the batch of nonuplets that I got to meet. I was raised to stab first and ask questions later, and that’s always been okay because so was everyone else, and everyone else was okay with it because we have violent souls.” He looked at the others. “Name one Wrath demon who’s never tried to fight you.”

Finger raised, Kat opened her mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again. “No, my bad, that one guy did try to stab me over a cinnamon roll.”

“Nunch is relatively non-violent for a Wrath demon,” Thro said.

Nunch drew his jagged dagger and held it to her throat. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” she said, not even flinching. “You aren’t even pressing it close enough to draw blood.”

He groaned.

“When I punch Kat in the face,” Morn said, pointing at her with his thumb. “It’s funny.”

Kat’s eyes narrowed.

“It is pretty funny,” Thro agreed.

Nunch nodded.

Morn clutched his head again, sweat breaking out across his forehead. “But if I punch a Lust partner without thinking because that’s just how we are, that’s domestic abuse.”

Everyone paused.

Po’s first thought was that he, as a fellow Wrath demon, could take it, but…he couldn’t. Not because he lacked the violent soul Morn spoke of, but because the curse had made his body soft and fragile…

Thro shrugged. “Not many officials care about abuse in the Wrath capital. You wouldn’t get in trouble.”

He grit his teeth. “I don’t give a fuck what would happen to me! Of course I should get in trouble for that!”

With a sniffle, Kat nodded. “Yeah, I get it now. You’re afraid Nunch is right that war is your entire personality, and Egg Waitress deserves better.”

He nodded.

Nunch reached around Thro to put his arm on his brother’s shoulder. “Do you wanna talk about this off camera?”

“No,” Morn said. “Because if I’m going to become a demon god and help rule over Wrath City, I want my subjects to know exactly what kind of person I am.”

“Yeah, a good person.” Kat got up and punched him in the head. “Dude, there are Wrath demons who never think about this shit, even after their partner is lying broken on the bedroom floor.”

Nunch nodded. “Egg Waitress would be lucky to have a considerate guy like you.”

She would. He would. Gods, Po would be so lucky to be liked by Morn. Powerful, beautiful, adventurous, big-hearted Morn Ingstar. Po squeezed around the dildo as twenty eggs exploded out of him with such force they knocked the fucking bucket over. “God d-dammit, I don’t have, ah, time to clean this shit up!”

Dagger back in the sheath at his belt, Nunch began to draw his arm back, caught Thro’s smile, and left it around her shoulders. “Look, Morn, I still think you ought to ask her out.”

Morn sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, she doesn’t even know who I am.”

His eyes narrowed. “Right, she called you ‘super tall guy’…She lives in Wrath City, and she doesn’t recognize General Morn Ingstar?”

“Oh. To be fair,” Kat started, sitting behind him in the next row of seats up. “We both went in wearing shadow cloaks.”

Morn nodded. “She has no idea who I am because I haven’t given her anything to identify me by.”

Oh, nothing at all. Except his height, build, left-handedness, wallet color and style, him being someone who would own a shadow cloak, his change in behavior on the show, their description of the Egg Waitress lining up too well with The Lusty Little Waitress, and Thro showing Po’s note to the audience. Hell, if Po had met Three Tube Dude in person, he may even have been able to identify Morn’s gait, posture, mannerisms, speech patterns, and taste in fruit for the assorted lubes. His favorites would probably be the lime kind and the berry flavors. Gods, Po was so obsessed with this beautiful man and his brother’s stupid show.

And he was going to be late for work. Pissed, he tossed a towel over his spill, frantically dried off, and threw on clean clothes.

“Tell her who you are then,” Nunch said, gesturing like he was scribbling with a pen again. “Here, here. ‘Dear Egg Waitress, I really like your eggs. My name is Morn Ingstar, and-’”

“Ugh.” Morn growled, head in his hand again. “I don’t know, Nunch, I-…I don’t think it’ll work out, but I’ll think about it, okay?”

He shrugged. “You won’t know until you try.”

Chapter Text

Po waddled into the grocery store half an hour late and checked in, sweating from the wobbly little jog he did to get there as fast as he could. He made it to the storage room to start stacking and sorting boxes, but stopped at the gut feeling that something was…off.

“Where’s Tom?” he asked himself, standing in the light from the doorway as he glanced around the dim room. He heard the fall of a footstep behind him and his army training kicked in. Po turned on his heel and put up his fists to guard himself.

The other demon didn’t attack. “That fat lump? I fired him this morning,” she said, adjusting her golden glasses. The well-dressed demoness gave him instant Greed vibes.

He swallowed. “Wh-who are you?”

“I would say I’m your new manager,” she said. “But I’m not YOUR new manager. You’re even more of a slacker than that Gluttony demon. It says on your record that you take a break every hour to partake in inappropriate behavior in the bathroom. Unacceptable. No wonder the store had to be sold when the old owner tolerated these kinds of employees.”

Po’s heart thundered. “I was cursed by a witch. Mam, I have to take those breaks, because I lay-”

“I don’t care,” she said, glowering down at him.

Sweat broke out across his face as he pressed a hand to his heart and felt himself leak milk. “Please, I-I really need this job! I can’t-…! There’s not much else I can do to pay rent in my condition!”

She shook her head. “This job doesn’t need you.”

Po stumbled home in a daze. He didn’t even get to take the cooler with him—the new manager dumped his eggs without hesitation. Without much else to do, he climbed into bed, set his laptop on his pillow, and turned on Conquest, supposing it was only fair the gods punished him for his good fortune catching Morn’s interest.

The warriors had returned to the Crystal Caverns and were slashing and smashing their way through the usual crystal dragons. Morn baited a bite from an especially large specimen and beheaded it with his greatsword.

“Are these fuckers endless?!” Kat asked, flipping over another dragon and driving her long blade up its butt.

It let out a high-pitched cry.

“Hellfire: Stone Throw!” Thro used her power to float crystals from the fallen dragons and smash them into the still-living beasts. “They might actually be endless, yes.”

“Fuck!”

One snuck up behind Thro. She startled as it leaned in for a chomp, but Nunch dove from above and rammed his dagger through the dragon’s skull before it could sink its teeth in. Thro smiled brightly at him, and Nunch blushed.

Kat groaned as ten dragons surrounded her. “Fine. Hellfire: Eye Of Opportunity!” Her left eye glowed gold as she looked around for a weak spot. She found one on the cavern’s ceiling and leaped up to kick a stalactite loose. It fell as the dragons converged below her, crushing them to dust.

“Hellfire: Pressure,” Morn said, not bothering to move as the dragons around him buckled under the vice crushing their souls.

Nunch jogged toward more dragons, dagger at the ready. “Hellfire: Borrowed Badassery.” His gait shifted into longer, more confident strides. Bones cracking, his limbs extended, his muscles swelled, and his face restructured to look more like Morn’s. Nunch raised his dagger as it magically grew to the length of his brother’s greatsword and slashed five dragons in half with a single swing. When all the beasts lay dead around them, his blade and body shrunk back to normal, leaving him shaking.

Tuesday, they stopped for lunch at their usual spot on a cliff overlooking an underground waterfall that cascaded into the depths. Some device or software in the camera tuned out the roar of the falls, but Po wasn’t sure how it worked.

“Not this place again,” Kat said, kicking one of the sitting logs. “Our firepit’s even still here. We’re getting nowhere in this damn cavern.”

“Yeah, we should move the portal anchor further in again.” Thro sat on another log, unloading her pack for pots and matches to cook the ghost fish Kat and Morn caught. “But I think it’ll be worth it in the end.”

“For the Devil’s Chalice?” Nunch asked, plopping down beside her. He grabbed the matches and lit the firepit.

She nodded. “Specifically for Diranne’s Chalice.”

Morn sat with them and started skewering the fish on iron poles to roast over the campfire. “Is Diranne’s Chalice special?”

“Absolutely,” she said, smiling. “Younger Demon Goddess Diranne, or Diranne The Navigator, is speculated to be the most powerful of all the gods. Earning an Ascension from The Great Manta Ray, Mother Of Vampires, Scholar Of The Stars, author of the Archives Of Abomination and keeper of the Golden Half Moon, would bring you unprecedented fame among Ambrellosh’s admirals.”

Nunch grinned. “Manta rays—the pancakes of the sea.”

“Dinner,” Kat agreed.

With a smirk, Morn turned the fish to roast them evenly. “Sounds like a plan. I wouldn’t want to worm my way into the admiral rank with a handout from a weaker god.”

Thro chuckled, scratching her cheek. “Well, godhood is godhood.”

“You know what I don’t get,” Nunch said. “Why does it apparently not matter which god Ascends you? Do they really not care?”

She shrugged. “They really don’t care. Sure, some won’t Ascend a soldier who won’t swear fealty first, but most care more about your loyalty than your origins. Most gods consider it a win to welcome an admiral who stole the power of heaven and hell from a rival.”

He tapped his chin. “Still seems too lax to me…”

Wednesday, Morn kicked through the cave wall into a new chamber, and the crew gasped with wonder. The cameraman skittered forward for a better shot.

The underground river defied gravity, bending and rising into the air. It split into many streams and doubled back around itself, rotating in the shape of a giant DNA helix. Dozens of rotten, dilapidated ghost ships cruised the currents, sailing forever in circles as hoards of translucent rainbow manta rays swam beside them.

“Holy whoa,” Kat breathed, taking a few steps inside and stopping again to stare.

Thro swallowed. “Mhm. The dragons first made me think we’d be hunting Tabbiramae’s Chalice, but this is definitely Diranne’s territory.”

“And her Chalice is on one of those ships, I assume?” Morn asked, scanning the cliffs that dropped off into infinity with the river twisting above. “How do we even get over there?”

She shrugged. “We come back with a winged ally to fly us across, or with some kind of flight artifacts.”

Thursday, Thro procured a few flight capes and had the foresight to make the others test them in the courtyard before they ventured back through the portal. Morn picked it up as quickly as Thro had, soaring circles around the great tower of Wrathgard with the blue feathered cape fluttering behind him. Kat almost beheaded herself hitting a flagpole, and Nunch hopped awkwardly around the arena for two minutes before he ran to the bushes and threw up his guts from motion sickness. Yeah, if this was going to work, they needed training first.

“You know what I think about a lot?” Nunch asked, sitting down to a steak and potato lunch that made Po’s mouth water while he wolfed down his usual eggs. He was glad the red demon was feeling better at least.

“How fucking dumb Kat is?” Morn asked, picking up his knife and immediately moving to block Kat trying to stab him with hers. They had a tiny swordfight at the picnic table.

“Oh, absolutely. I sometimes have a hard time believing there’s a brain in her cranium. But besides her, I think a lot about Mint S and Lo Vehandles. Even read their autobiographies the other day.” Nunch twirled his fork. “I don’t understand how someone can casually live their life for years not realizing they’re a fucking GOD.”

Thro chewed her steak and politely swallowed before speaking. “You know how you feel your Hellfire rushing through your veins?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s artificial,” she said. “Elder Holy God Grenijn invented that feeling and added it to all Hellfires, Prowesses, etcetera, to help mortals understand how to use magic. Otherwise, few people would be capable of manifesting their Hellfires.”

Nunch poked his potato as he thought. “So…Gods don’t feel their own power? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Mhm,” she said. “Not unless they channel an immense amount of it. If they live a lax enough life that they never have to, it’s possible to go decades without noticing. Especially if they Ascended slowly over months or years sipping from a Chalice, like Mint S or Lo Vehandles. Supposedly you don’t feel it.”

Fork down, he scrunched up his face in thought. “Are you saying there’s a non-zero chance I could be a god right now and have no idea?”

“Yeah,” Thro said, giving him a thumbs up.

Kat snorted. “Don’t kid yourself; you aren’t.”

“I know. Just curious.”

Friday rolled around and Po rolled out of bed. He went about his usual routine and watched Conquest while milking himself.

Morn was the first to arrive for once. As Nunch, Kat, and Thro gathered, he pointed over his shoulder at the portal. “Let’s go.”

“Hell no,” Kat said, arms crossed. Now that Po looked, they didn’t have their backpacks.

Morn paused. “Huh?”

“Not today,” Nunch told him. “You have something more important to do.”

“Like what?”

They dragged him to a fancy flower shop in the middle of Wrath City. Morn blushed like a blueberry, looking so absolutely out of his element it made Po choke laughing like Kat always did.

Kat barred the doors as rabid fans accumulated outside. One Wrath demon smashed through the window and she smashed him over the head with a chair. “See, this is why we usually wear shadow cloaks.”

“Not like they’d do much good since we’re streaming,” Morn huffed.

Nunch slapped his brother on the back. “Let’s get you ready for that date.”

Uncomfortable, he rubbed his arm. “Look, man, I don’t know if there’s going to be a date. I don’t even know if she’s single.”

“Then ask her if she’s single,” he said. “And if she is, ask her out. It’s not fucking hard, Morn.”

On the contrary, Po was incredibly fucking hard for Morn.

“Pick out some flowers,” Nunch said, gesturing to the endless rows of beautiful blooms. “Pick out a box of chocolates.” He slid over to the shelf stacked with candies and confectionaries. “Go to the restaurant, give ‘em to her, ask if she’s single, and if she says yes ask if she’s free Saturday. Simple.”

Morn grumbled, twiddling his thumbs like a shy schoolboy.

“Oh my gods,” his brother groaned, raking his long red fingers down his face. “You can battle endless monsters and seek the power of heaven and hell, but you’re too damn nervous to talk to a girl.”

Thro giggled as the tall, muscular Wrath general slumped, refusing to argue.

“Fucking, what, you need me to show you how it’s done?” Nunch asked, marching up to a shelf and grabbing a bouquet of blue daisies and a heart-shaped box of chocolate and caramel candies. He paid at the register, then strode confidently over to Thro and handed her the items. “I know you’re single, but are you free Saturday?”

Oh my gods, NunThro was finally happening! There’d be an avalanche of fanfiction tonight.

Lashes fluttering, Thro buried her nose in the flowers. “I am free Saturday, but let’s not mention where we’ll go for dinner on stream.”

“Sounds good to me. Talk later,” he said.

Morn gaped like a ghost fish. “It-…It’s really that easy?”

“Yes,” all three said in unison.

He swallowed. “Well, I mean, sure, but that’s a human dating ritual, isn’t it? We’re used to stuff like this because we travel to Otherworlds, but she’s probably used to demon culture.”

Nunch rolled his eyes. “Alright, so you have the Wrath dating ritual of putting her in a headlock and asking if she wants to wrestle later, or the Lust ritual of whipping out your dick and asking if she wants a ride. And considering you’re too afraid to give her a bouquet, I don’t think you’re brave enough to give her a boner.”

Offended, he gaped in shock. “I-…Fine. Fuck, I’ll give her the flowers.”

And chocolates. Po wanted those chocolates. He would bludgeon a man to death for those damn candies.

“And chocolates,” Kat said, punching another fangirl in the face.

Yes!

Po ate his eggs while he watched Morn wander around the store like a lost child, eventually picking out a big square box of heart-shaped milk chocolates with dark chocolate drizzling and a wide bouquet of red and blue roses that actually looked a lot like Po with his half hot half cold mottled skin. Funny.

When Po finished his meal, he dug out the money under his mattress and counted. Okay, he had enough for rent, water, electricity, and laundry. But not enough for internet. Which meant he’d have to somehow come up with fifty saflecks—sapphire flecks, Ambrellosh’s currency—in the next week, or he’d be cut off from Conquest.

Dammit, where was he supposed to find another job? Was there anywhere else in his area that would even hire an egg-filled loser like him? He couldn’t afford to ride the bus to and from a part-time job, even disregarding the stares and complaints he’d get, and walking was out of the question for anywhere more than a couple blocks away.

It crossed his mind that he could ask Morn for money. Like a gold-digging girlfriend. No, Po’s pride couldn’t handle that.

He could ask if Morn would like to buy more eggs. The store only wanted three tubes for nine saflecks, but maybe…No, he couldn’t bet on the general wanting more, or on Goldme being allowed and available to handle the arrangement.

No, he couldn’t rely on Morn. Not right now. Like Morn seemed to fear the Lusty demoness’ rejection, Po feared his hero’s rejection if they met and he realized what a pathetic excuse for a Wrath demon had deceived him. Po couldn’t lean on yet another person who would just abandon him.

Po couldn’t ruin Morn’s fantasy, and therefore they could never meet.

He’d have to come up with some other way to get the money.

Morn left for the restaurant at four, the stream ended at five, and Po milked himself until six before he cleaned up and waddled to The Lusty Little Waitress.

Hand reaching for the door, he paused as a thought struck him. You know, Morn had never stopped by so close to Po’s next visit. Goldme wouldn’t have, like…told him when Po usually showed up to drop off the eggs, right? No. Would she have had to? Because if they were available Saturday morning, they had to be delivered Friday night. That was the obvious logic, right?

There was a non-zero chance Morn Ingstar was still inside, waiting for the Egg Waitress.

Po took a step back, scared shitless. Okay, um, uh…Fuck. He didn’t want to waddle home without checking. Po wanted those chocolates. The Waitress closed in another couple hours; maybe he could wait until almost closing and hope if Morn had been patient he’d assume if the Egg Waitress wasn’t already there, she wasn’t coming. It’d be rude, but Goldme would understand.

Bah! Po shouldn’t have to run or hide like a coward! Especially when there was a better chance Morn had simply dropped off the items and left. The date wasn’t supposed to be tonight; it was for Saturday.

Okay, the plan was to walk in pretending to be a normal customer. If Morn was there, he’d browse the shelves for a minute, loudly complain that they didn’t have the brand he liked, and walk out. Simple. Perfect.

He was holding a plastic bag full of pleasure eggs. Fuck. No, he could ditch them outside. Even if someone stole them, it wouldn’t be much of a loss. After all, these were fewer than he laid in a single sitting. He could pump out more in the bathroom if he had to.

Po was deciding where to dump the bag when he realized he shouldn’t have to pussyfoot around this, dammit! He was so sick of pretending to be meek and agreeable so people wouldn’t push him around, and getting pushed around anyway because his body was inexcusable no matter how he acted. If Morn was determined enough to wait two hours to ruin his own fantasy, that was his fault. Fuck him.

Marching back to the door, Po almost slammed it open, thinking better at the last second and pushing it in with a gentle creak. He caught sight of the silver-trimmed black of a shadow cloak and almost turned right around and ran for his life. But the man wearing it was much too short to be Morn.

“Haha. Well, the plan’s gone astray, like my pig-headed daughter,” the dapper old demon man said, tossing a few glistening sapphire paper bills on the counter to pay for the five overflowing bags of toys Goldme set aside for him.

The shadow cloak’s hood was down, canceling its effects. He was tall, like seven feet tall, but not as large as any member of the Nunch box, with pale pink skin, silver hair, and four horns with jewel-encrusted gold caps. Clad in a gleaming gold business suit with glittering jewelry dangling from every limb, diamond rings on every finger, the old demon radiated wealth like a furnace, surrounded by four scantily clad succubi.

“I flew to Wrath City to kick some sense into stupid little Cashmo Ney, but she’s stubborn as a mule, as always, so I’ve more time on my hands than expected. And how better to pass that time than with some Lusty company?” He pat the plump ass of his closest escort.

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Goldme said, forcing a friendly smile as she counted his cash.

This guy had to be a Greed captain or general. Maybe because of Monday’s backstabbing, Po didn’t feel safe dealing with Greed demons, so he sidled inside, quietly shut the door, and went to idle in the corner between the door and counter to stay out of their way. He caught one of the girls eying him up, but they didn’t say anything.

The Greed demon refused his change, waved, and headed for the exit. Just when Po thought he was in the clear, the old man’s eyes suddenly snapped to the little egg-laying demon, sending a shiver up Po’s straining spine.

Chapter Text

Shit. Po forced himself to meet the Greed demon’s eyes, trying to keep his face neutral, not frightened or defiant.

“Pardon my rude gaze. You caught me off guard, General, er…?” He twirled his hand like he expected Po to fill in the blank, but Po’s mind went blank instead.

G-general? What? Of all the things he was constantly mistaken for, a fucking general was not one of them.

The Greed demon stroked his bushy white mustache. “Strange. I thought I recognized all the higher-ranks among Elder Demon Ambrellosh’s army.”

“Uh…I, well, um, no, I’m not-…” Po straightened up and saluted. “Honorably discharged Wrath Lieutenant Po Learm, sir.”

His white eyebrows knit in confusion. “Lieutenant…?”

“This fatty’s a Wrath demon?” one of the succubi asked, giggling.

Another gave his belly a squeeze, eliciting a gasp from Po. “He’s not fat, he’s pregnant.”

“He’s a dude?” the third asked. She strut up behind Po and reached around to fondle his chest, making him leak. “You’ve got some nice tits for a dude.”

“Ladies, give him some space,” the Greed demon ordered.

The first two backed off quickly.

The third sighed and gave him one last squeeze, making him squeak, before she let him go. “I’m just saying, if you’re ever looking for someone to suck those milkers…”

“I’m n-not, thanks,” Po stammered, crossing his arms to cover his chest. Shit, he was soaking through his pads.

Perplexed, the Greed demon looked him up and down. Hand raised, it glowed like Thro’s did when she analyzed artifacts. “How in the Otherworlds did you not make it past lieutenant with a Hellfire like THAT?”

“I don’t have a-. Oh,” Po said, suddenly getting it. “You’re a mage, and you’re sensing bad magic from me.”

He nodded. “Forgive me. Greed General Doll Armo Ney, at your service.”

After nodding back, he lifted the egg bag. “It’s these. I’m a Wrath demon with a Lust curse—I lay eggs like a chicken.”

The girls giggled.

“I wanna watch you lay eggs,” one of them said.

Po’s cheeks burned. “Um, I’d rather you didn’t.”

Goldme rushed to his side, throwing her arm around him. “They’re Po’s Nuclear Grade Pleasure Eggs. So potent a Wrath general would weep with eggstasy.”

The girls cooed, curious.

“Three saflecks per egg,” she said.

Normally, they were one safleck per egg, so this made Po feel like a dirty thief, but the price hike gave his bag twenty-seven saflecks of potential, and Po couldn’t argue with how far that would stretch toward affording another month of Conquest. That’s if the Greed demon didn’t realize they were trying to rip him off.

D.A. Ney handed him a hundred safleck bill.

Po choked. “I, uh, um, I don’t have change for-”

“No change,” he said, exchanging the shiny sapphire bill for the bag. “Just payment. Three per egg? Bah. I scoff at that price with such a lack of confidence. You shouldn’t sell such a powerful product for dirt.”

He had to double take at the one and two zeroes just to make sure he wasn’t misreading it. This would cover his internet bill and then some. “Th-thank you, General.”

Goldme gave them a thumbs up. “I hope you and your ladies enjoy those eggs.”

Three of them looked eggstatic. The fourth frowned like this was an eggregious waste of her time.

“These aren’t for tonight,” D.A. Ney said, pocketing the bag. “I’ll be recruiting a few experts to help me find out exactly what’s in them.” His right eye glowed gold. “Lieutenant Learm, I smell a business opportunity.”

Po flustered. This demon was a Greed general named ‘dollar money’—why the hell was he generous? He must think he could use the egg-laying demon like a golden goose.

D.A. Ney and his ladies headed out, leaving Po alone with his gaudy gold business card and the cashier.

Goldme slapped him on the back, grinning ear to ear. “The gods are finally looking out for you, Po.”

“Is that what’s happening?” he sighed. “Because it does feel like I’ve been too lucky lately.” Except for losing his job, but he didn’t want to ruin her mood with bad news.

“Speaking of how lucky you are,” she started, fists clenched with barely contained excitement. “You’ll never believe who stopped by earlier.”

“Three Tube Dude did, to drop off a red and blue rose bouquet and a box of chocolates, and ask Egg Waitress on a date for Saturday.”

Goldme froze, eyes narrowing to orange slits. “Okay, you totally know who he is. Do you like…work with this guy, and he talks about this right in front of you without realizing it’s you?”

“Kind of, but not quite.” Po waddled to the counter, rubbing his back as he took a deep breath. “Warrior of Wrathgard, seeker of the Devil’s Chalice, and star of the online livestream show ‘Conquest Of The Otherworlds’; retired Wrath General Morn Ingstar.”

Her jaw dropped harder than the dozens of eggs crushing Po’s prostate. “Holy Ambrellosh in a fucking air fryer.”

“I know,” he said, hefting himself into his usual chair.

She shook her head, sidling behind the counter to find his stuff. “General Morn Fucking Ingstar…”

“I knooow,” Po groaned, shuddering through an orgasm.

“My tagline really delivered. You seduced an actual Wrath general.”

With a nod, he opened his eyes, and Goldme brought the items out from under the counter. They were so much bigger than they looked in Morn’s giant hands. The bouquet was almost the size of Po’s belly, and that was really saying something. More importantly, they were real, like Goldme had used magic to pull them straight out of the screen.

Po accepted them like he’d been handed his firstborn child and took a deep whiff of the fragrant roses. There was…another scent in them? He sniffed around the ruffly wrapping and realized Morn wore some kind of cologne, and it’d rubbed off on the paper. Woodsy, like moss and cedar, with a sharp lime tone. It hit Po like a tidal wave that with all he memorized about Morn, he’d had no clue what the man smelled like. And he smelled delicious. Po sucked in the scent like an addict.

“You okay?” Goldme asked.

“No,” he said, pulling his nose up from the bouquet. “I can’t agree to the date.”

She frowned. “It’s Morn Fucking Ingstar. You’re obviously head over heels for the guy. Why not?”

Po shook his head. “He wants dinner and a movie. I can’t sit through dinner and a movie, Goldme, I’ll be kicked out for public indecency with my obscene moaning.”

She cringed so hard the heart-shaped glasses almost fell off her face. Yeah, his noises were sort of acceptable in a sex shop, which is why she didn’t mind, but not so much elsewhere. “Right, okay, um…I’m sure you could work something out.”

“Morn Ingstar deserves better than some egg-filled loser he has to compromise with because he can’t keep his dick soft for twenty minutes,” Po snapped.

“Po…”

“Look at me,” he said, gesturing down to his cartoonish boobs, grotesque belly, and hilariously fat ass. “I’m disgusting.”

“You are not disgusting.” Arms crossed, she sat across from him behind the counter. “You’re just…big. In a different way than Morn is. You’ve just got milk, eggs, and cake—you’ve got the whole bakery, Po.”

“You’re trying to cheer me up, and I appreciate it,” he said. “But I threw myself off the Wrath City bridge a few years ago, and Conquest has since been my reason to live.” He ignored her mortified expression. “If my hero sees me and says I’m disgusting…it’ll kill me.”

The pink mood lighting flickered. Ground trembling beneath them, they startled as a car crashed with a metal thunk and blaring alarm somewhere outside, but everything quickly calmed down.

Goldme chuckled. “Perfectly timed earthquake.”

Po couldn’t help his small smile. “Yeah. A little disaster, like me.”

“No, I think it’s the gods trying to tell you to take a chance.”

He frowned. “Do the gods really communicate like that?”

“Sure,” she said, hopping up. “Come on. At least read his letter.”

“Letter?” Po glanced around and finally noticed the azure envelope taped to the box of chocolates. He set the bouquet aside, tore it open, unfolded the azure letter inside, and although Morn didn’t write often on the show—or rather Wrath demons in general didn’t write often, which was why Po’s handwriting was also atrocious—Po recognized Morn’s stilted, too-angular scrawl instantly.

‘Dear Egg Waitress, I really enjoy your eggs. Sorry you don’t have other customers, but I think I get it. My friends say I’m a masochist, and those eggs fuck me up like nothing else I’ve ever tried. And I’m an adventurous eater.’

Understatement of the century.

‘They’re not bad. They’re really good. I don’t know how to write a letter.’

Po chuckled. This idiot.

‘Sorry. My friends bullied me into writing back and buying you flowers and chocolates, but I sort of kind of maybe might have no idea how to do this. I’m a big, dumb Wrath demon; my entire life is fighting, and I’ve never really talked with people who aren’t big, dumb Wrath demons like me.’

And that hadn’t changed. Po was also a big—albeit horizontally instead of vertically—dumb Wrath demon. Honestly, he was angrier at Morn for insulting himself than unknowingly insulting his crush.

‘I don’t know if you’re single, or even interested, because I’m a creepy customer, and a tall, intimidating dude, but I wanted to try asking you out. Would you like to go for dinner and a movie on Saturday? I totally understand if you don’t.’

Aaand that was the end of the letter.

Goldme giggled. “Oh no, you look angry.”

A vein throbbed in Po’s forehead. “Did this fuckass just casually forget to confess who he is like Nunch told him to, or did he intentionally leave that out?”

“I don’t know.”

She wheezed the entire time while he scribbled a reply letter, reading over his shoulder. He left it with her along with a fresh batch of eggs he cooked up in the bathroom.

Po obviously refused the date and spent Saturday lounging around, eating so many eggs he went to get up from his desk and realized he was too heavy and stuck, savoring the chocolates so much after his meals that he came from the heavenly taste, and catching up on Nunch Box fanfiction.

People went wild for NunThro, imagining countless different ways their first date could have gone. Everything from a wholesome dinner at a fancy restaurant with endless flirty dialogue, to being attacked by another mob of fans and escaping together into an Otherworld, to Nunch spiriting Thro away behind a distant bush in the Wrathgard courtyard and fucking the scholar stupid. Golly.

But the real surprise was how much wilder the fans went for MornSun. The first few made up their own names, like Lus Ty and Scram Bledeggs, and then Sunny Sideup swept in and stole the fic writers’ hearts. Such a pretty name. Much too beautiful for a character who was supposed to be Po.

Some forgot Morn said she was a Lust demoness, and some went out of their way to justify why she had a Gluttony food pun name. Some painted her as a dainty, cute little Gluttony waitress, some as a sexy, flirty Lust waitress, and a handful of writers rightly remembered her entire spiel was that she made the meanest, most bowel-obliterating eggs in all of Wrath City.

Props to the two writers who made her a Wrath demon—one in the restaurant, and one who had her wrestle Morn to the ground for the Wrath dating ritual. And, of course, five separate writers had them partake in the Lust dating ritual, and Sunny rode Morn’s monster dong in the supply closet, the walk-in fridge, behind the dumpster out back, at the closest hotel, and in Morn’s cushy apartment at the second-highest story of Wrathgard’s tower. And yes, Po jacked off to all of them using his azure dildo.

By Monday, Po regretted his letter. He wondered if he’d made a mistake, but it was too late now. He went about his usual routine and kneeled on the bathroom floor to milk himself and wait for Morn’s reaction, hoping he hadn’t crossed the general with his outburst. Wrath demons were so fucking stupid when they were angry, and Po still had that problem without the confidence or strength to walk the walk while talking the talk.

“Where’s Morn?” Kat snapped, kicking a rock.

“Calm your tits. He’s here,” Nunch said, gesturing toward the tower door.

Morn took five steps into the courtyard, then looked directly into the camera with the fear of the gods in his eyes and shuffled behind one of the poles supporting the overhang above, hiding like a scared child.

Nunch, Thro, and Kat lost it, laughing their lungs out.

“What’s that about?!” Nunch asked, strutting over to him. “Oh, did you mention Conquest during your date?” He too turned to the camera. “Is she watching? Ey, welcome to the show, Egg Waitress,” he said, waving.

Po flustered, embarrassed to be perceived.

“Um,” Morn squeaked, too high-pitched. “Well, uh, we…didn’t really…you know…go…on that date…”

Nunch and Kat drew their blades and Thro lifted a boulder above his head. “What do you mean you didn’t go on the date?!” Gods, they were really going to kill him over this even though it was Po’s fault.

“What happened?!” Nunch demanded, dagger to his brother’s throat. “Did she say no?!”

“Uh…”

“Did she write you another letter?” Thro asked.

His expression made it obvious she did, and they started wailing on him to hand it over. Morn did a great job guarding himself until Thro nailed him in the crotch with a big rock and Kat, while he was buckled over in agony, used her Eye Of Opportunity to locate the letter in his back pocket. She stole it and passed it to Thro.

Unfolding the black paper, Thro cleared her throat. “Dear super tall guy, thanks for writing back. Don’t worry, I’m not bothered by your size or type. I live in Wrath City even though it would have been better for me to move a long time ago because I LIKE being surrounded by big, dumb Wrath demons.”

Kat and Nunch snorted, nodding in agreement.

“Yes, I’m single, and I’m honored you asked me on a date. Dinner and a movie sounds amazing, and you have no idea how much I mean it when I say I’d love to meet you and get to know you, but…I can’t go,” she said, frowning. “It’s not about Saturday, or any particular day, or the time of day, I just…don’t have enough time to exist with you in public?”

Nunch worried his lip, shifting his weight. “What does she mean?”

The others shrugged.

Thro continued. “Besides, I have plans. It might not seem like it, but the eggs take a very long time to cook, so I spend all day every day watching-” She choked, covering her mouth and wheezing like a dying hyena as she glanced ahead.

“What?” Kat asked, confused.

She caught her breath. “So I spend all day every day watching a live show on this newfangled thing called ‘the internet’. It’s called-…It’s called Conquest Of The Otherworlds,” she sputtered. “Have you heard of it?”

Kat and Nunch died laughing, and Morn died of embarrassment.

“Wait, so she was already watching Conquest?” Kat asked, holding her stomach.

Nunch shuffled up to his brother, head lowered, and poked him in the ribs with his thin, pointy horns. “Have you heard of it, Morn? Have you heard of Conquest Of The Otherworlds?”

Kat joined him, head-butting Morn in the kidney. “I heard it’s hosted by this buttmunch named Nunch and his dumb as a brick older brother. Heard the girls are pretty hot though.”

Morn grumbled. “Shut up.”

Alright, this part of the conversation was exactly as hilarious as Po hoped, and he snickered until his eggs dropped.

Thro kept reading, trying to control her giggles. “The show’s about these four super tall, super hot Wrath warriors who travel to other worlds in search of cool ancient civilizations and neat magic artifacts. Lately, they’ve been carving through these caverns full of crystals—these Crystal Caverns you could say—looking for something called a Devil’s Chalice to make General Morn Ingstar into a demon god. Exciting stuff. Morn’s the tallest and hottest of the bunch. I’ve got a big stinkin’ crush on him. But they keep interrupting it with this dumbfuck sup-plot where Morn nukes his intestines with the ‘spicy eggs’ at some ‘restaurant’!” By the end of that sentence, she was struggling to breathe.

Morn simmered with embarrassment while Nunch and Kat rolled around on the floor at his feet, laughing like maniacs.

“You know, the ‘restaurant’ sounds a lot like the place I sell my eggs,” Thro continued. “I’m sure it’s a coincidence. Now that I think about it, the flowers and chocolates you dropped off for me look a lot like the ones Morn bought on Friday. Did you take inspiration? Morn’s also eleven-foot-three, left-handed, and owns an azure wallet and a shadow cloak, just like you do. Golly, it’s a shame I don’t know your name. I’ve been picturing you as Morn Ingstar basically since you starting buying strange eggs at the same time he did, but I know you’re definitely not Morn Ingstar, right?”

Kat gasped for air. “Fuck! Homegirl’s a superfan!”

“I love her,” Nunch squealed. “We need her on the show!”

“No,” Morn said, smoldering with shame. “I mean, fuck, I don’t know. I don’t fucking know!”

“Egg Waitress!” Thro waved to the camera, eyes sparkling. “Your letter was really funny. Thank you so much. Come be on the show!”

Morn grit his teeth. “I’m not bringing her letters in my pockets anymore, you filthy thieves!”

“Oh, It doesn’t matter anymore,” Nunch said, wrapping his arm around Thro. “Egg Waitress, we have a mailbox for fan letters. You can write directly into the show and we’ll read them in front of Morn to torture him.”

Mortified, Morn hid behind the pillar again.

Po laughed. He’d have to think about it. They couldn’t meet, but messing with Morn via fan mail was something he could do.

Chapter Text

For the rest of Monday’s stream, Morn’s behavior evolved in a strange way. He slowly changed from hiding shyly to fighting like his life was on the line, while Thro tried to teach Nunch and Kat to fly in a straight line with their flight cloaks.

Morn filled the stream’s action quota with exciting tournament battles. He beat the other demons senseless with his bare fists and sent them away on stretchers, achieving a new level of badassery. It took Po hours to realize why he was pushing himself: Morn was showing off because he now knew the girl he liked was watching.

“Look at you, strutting around like a peacock,” Kat scoffed, cleaning the leaves from the bush she crash-landed in out of her long hair.

With a huff, Morn wiped the blood off his knuckles and put his black fingerless gloves and spiked rings back on. “I’m not showing off.”

She tossed the leaves at him like confetti. “Yes, you are.”

“No. Well, I’m not JUST showing off,” he said. “I’m trying to remind her I’m a monster.”

Kat’s eyes tightened. “Bitch, do I need to hop into the portal and grab another crystal dragon to smash over your skull?” She turned to the camera. “You know, Egg Waitress, this is my favorite thing about you being a superfan. You already know he’s a monster AND a big softie inside, so you’re not gonna run off, and you’re not afraid to give him shit for being a coward.”

Morn grumbled.

It was so strange hearing them occasionally talk directly to Po through the screen. But no, he wouldn’t be scared away by Morn strutting about like a peacock, fluffing up his tail and trying to look fiercer than he really was. Po felt like the real monster for leading him on.

Speaking of which, the fan mail…With the world in a constant state of war, travel wasn’t safe, and if you wanted to mail something to another city you had to settle for a small courier who may be jumped on the road, or an expensive armored caravan. If Po wanted to harass his hero with fan mail, he’d have to stay in Wrath City, and that meant solving his financial crisis.

He dug D.A. Ney’s business card out of his desk drawer and sent him an email, asking if he’d be interested in buying any more eggs. He also looked online for job postings, but not many demons were used enough to the internet to think of posting there. There were no jobs in his area.

Tuesday morning, Po woke up too early, opened his laptop beside him in bed to browse fanfiction, and found a reply from the Greed general waiting.

‘Esteemed Lieutenant Po Learm,

I will keep this brief, as I don’t wish to discuss delicate information anywhere but face to face. And, more importantly, I don’t wish to alarm you. I expediently delivered your eggs to a remote lab in the Otherworlds where my experts confirmed their value.

In your email, you said you would like to sell for at least 1sf per egg, but would not complain about a higher or lower price because you are broke and desperate. I would like to make a counteroffer: sign a contract to sell exclusively to Cashmo Ney, heir to the Ney Corporation, and the Ney Corporation will pay for your move into a luxurious four-bedroom apartment a short walk from Cashmo’s, unlimited food and entertainment, a negotiable number of personal caretakers to assist you in comfortably laying your eggs and delivering them to Cashmo, an expert on your condition on call to assure your health at all times of the day and night, as well as a weekly check for 50,000sf.’

Po egged himself, shaking as he stared blankly at the screen. Was he reading that number right? Were there really four zeroes, or were his eyes crossed? Fuck, he’d never seen even 5,000sf in one place, let alone on one check. But 50,000sf? A week?! WHAT?!

How solid gold was his goose that a Greed general would smash through the starting gate with an offer like this?!

‘Please consider my offer. I would also like to meet in person as soon as you are available to discuss the delicate matter of what exactly your condition is. It may influence your decision, and we can negotiate the contract then. Lieutenant, I again don’t mean to alarm you, but I did some digging into your records, and your general’s decision to honorably discharge you for the witch incident may genuinely have been the biggest mistake in the history of Elder Demon Ambrellosh’s Wrath Army.’

Po’s jaw hung like it’d broken off its hinges. What did he mean?! What the fuck was Po’s condition?!

Eggs spilling everywhere as he scrambled out of bed, Po wobbled to the bathroom and stared at his naked body in the mirror above the sink. It was too small to get a really good look, but he settled.

He was disgusting, but he’d always known that. His pecs, belly, butt, and even his girthy cock were all swollen and shiny in a way that felt amazing, but he was sure others found them grotesque and unnatural. Not to mention he was covered in dried milk that he leaked in his sleep. Skin half red half blue, the colors twisted downward around his body like thick ribbons in a spiral coil, blending at the edges with mottled splotches.

Po looked like a heavily pregnant halfbreed demoness, but without the feminine grace of a demoness, or the impending miracle of childbirth from a real pregnancy, which, as far as he was concerned, made him worse than useless. He wasn’t…something dangerous? Something worth keeping? General Guill O’Tine hadn’t made a mistake getting rid of him.

Shower on, he washed off the milk, thinking about D.A. Ney’s email. Mysteries about his condition aside, the offer was too good to refuse. Hell, it was too good to be true, and that made Po wary. Did Greed demons usually honor contracts? Did D.A. Ney honor his contracts? Po didn’t know.

Did the general offer more than he intended to pay because he thought the stupid lieutenant would take the bait and hop right into the boiling pot? Or was he offering so much because Po’s eggs were genuinely so valuable that he didn’t want to risk the cursed demon trying to find another buyer? Should he have another mage look at them and appraise the goldenness of his goose? Could he even afford their service?

Right, Po had an idea and snapped his fingers: he could ask Thro on the show. Mention in a letter that some rich mage appraised his eggs and made him an offer. Po trusted her to be honest with him. And if the Nunch Box made a counteroffer, even if it barely covered Po’s bills, he’d take it.

Toweling off, he got dressed to take a short walk before the stream started. Wrath City sparkled at the yawn-inducingly early hour of…eleven thirty in the morning. Technically, it was still morning, and that made Po feel like an early bird.

He waddled two blocks to the river and leaned his elbows—and his belly—against the railing, watching the blood water glisten in the sweltering sun. The Wrath City bridge stood stoically in the distance, its thorned spires like middle fingers to the heavens.

When Po thought about it, he’d be insane not to take D.A. Ney’s offer, and he wasn’t so suspicious that he didn’t even want to hear him out about what his experts had discovered, but Po found himself completely hung up on the two small problems with his offer.

First, selling exclusively to Cashmo Ney meant NOT selling to Morn. Po couldn’t stand that.

Second, they wanted him to move. If Po was going to leave Wrath City, he’d have done so a long time ago. Lust City had demons who fetishized pregnancy, even fake pregnancy, and even male pregnancy, and would gladly pay to use Po’s holes and squeeze his features. It would’ve been humiliating, but he’d have lived comfortably. Wrath City passed most of its desk jobs to Greed City, Envy City, and Sloth City, which is why they were slim pickings here, but that could’ve been easily solved by packing up and following those jobs.

But Po didn’t want to move. Despite all the wrong it did to him, Wrath City was his home. He was a wrath demon. He was supposed to belong here, dammit.

After some time, he waddled home and made himself comfortable with his towel, his bucket, his laptop, and today’s Conquest stream, sending D.A. Ney a quick reply that he needed time to consider his offer and would get back to him in a week.

“Exciting stuff this afternoon,” Nunch said, scampering out to join the others at the picnic table with a white letter in hand. “Egg Waitress wrote in to the show!”

What? Po froze, dildo halfway up his ass.

He sat beside Thro, threw his arm around her shoulder, and gave her the letter while Morn simmered with embarrassment already at the head of the table to their right.

“Hell yeah,” Kat said, beaming, alone on the left side of the table.

“Dear super tall man,” Thro read. “I’m glad the Nunch Box got a good laugh out of my letter yesterday, so I thought I’d take the invite and write for the fan mail box.”

Wait…But…

“I’m so happy to be on the show! It fills me with joy to know I’ve filled you awesome Wrath warriors with joy.”

S-somebody was impersonating Po? What?!

“It’s the highlight of my week every Saturday when I get to serve you a steaming hot plate of scrambled eggs, Morn.”

“That’s not her,” Morn snapped, teeth grinding.

Thro squinted at the paper. “Yeah, her writing style is off, and her handwriting is different.”

“And her details are off,” Kat added.

Po pat his chest as his heart calmed. Happy international ‘give Po Learm a heart attack’ day.

“Dammit!” Nunch slammed his fist on the table. “Can’t believe I fell for an Envy scheme.”

Kat frowned. “How are you so sure it’s an Envy demon?”

“Because this is the kind of shit they do. They make up like eighty percent of arrests for forgery, identity theft, and impersonation, because so many of the fuckers get off to pretending to be different demons.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, man. Greed demons do that too. Although I guess usually to steal business deals.”

“Sloth demons also do a lot of impersonation,” Thro said. “Takes less energy to leech off someone else’s reputation than build your own.”

Morn crossed his arms. “Six hundred and sixty-six words per minute.”

Kat frowned. “Okay, fine. But Wrath demons almost never do that shit.”

“We have integrity,” Nunch said.

Thro nodded.

“No we fucking don’t,” Morn said. “We have two brain cells to share between the lot of us. Impersonation’s too damn tricky.”

Well, it didn’t matter who did it. Po didn’t want it to happen again. He decided to write in himself and waddled to The Lusty Little Waitress that evening to send his own letter.

Wednesday and Thursday were fraught with more imposters.

“Dear super tall guy, thanks for enjoying my eggs. I changed my mind about the date. Please meet me at-”

“Not her.”

“Dear super tall guy, I’m having a hard time selling spicy eggs. Can you advertise the restaurant on the show?”

“No.”

“Dear Morn, you’re super tall and hot, and I wanna ride your monster do-”

“Go die.”

“Dear super tall guy. Hi. I’m not Egg Waitress, lmao, I just wanted to say hi.”

“Ugh.”

Thro grabbed another letter from the pile, glanced at the opening lines, and snorted. “Oh, this one’s going to be unique. Ahem.” She put on a silly face and a goofy voice. “Dear Three Tube Dude, I’m sorry-”

Morn’s Pressure slammed down on the crew around the picnic table, almost smashing their faces into the wood. He reached his hand out for Thro. “Give it.”

Shuddering, she held it tight. “This is hers?”

“That’s definitely her,” Kat confirmed, bracing her arm against the table.

“Yep, that’s mine,” Po said to himself, stuffing his face with deviled eggs.

Nunch snorted, struggling against the Pressure. “Three Tube Dude…?”

Kat nodded. “Inside joke. Only the real one would know.”

Morn let up the pressure, but he reached for the letter again.

Thro slapped his hand. “I’m reading it.”

He growled.

“Ahem,” she said. “Dear Three Tube Dude, I’m sorry it took me a hot minute to send a letter for the show. I didn’t expect that impostor. Guess that’s what I get for being a hypocrite. Sorry I got on your case about not telling me you were Morn Ingstar when I’m even more of a coward, using Heart Glasses Cashier to send my letters because I’m too scared to meet you.”

Nunch shuffled offscreen and ruffled through something. “Her mailing address is the ‘restaurant’.”

Morn nodded and looked at Thro to continue, but she stared at him. He flinched and looked into the camera. “Should I reply, ‘cause she’s probably watching? Uh…” He raised one hand to wave. “Hi, Egg Waitress. Um…Don’t worry about it. I understand why you wouldn’t want to try talking to such an intimidating guy in person.”

Thro kept reading. “I know you’re gonna say something like ‘Don’t worry, I’m a monster, so of course you wouldn’t want to meet me.’ Go shove a sewing machine up your ass,” she wheezed.

He choked, and Po was pleased about it.

“That’s not why. Believe it or not, I’m even shyer than you are, and for a better reason. I didn’t want to make myself out to be pathetic, but the last week has been a whirlwind of good and bad news, and I don’t think I have much choice anymore but to provide a little context.”

Morn frowned. “You’re not pathetic. What’s going on?”

“My-…” Thro choked, but not on laughter. Po watched her spirits sink as she stammered the line. “M-my body is…broken.”

His eyes widened. So did Nunch’s and Kat’s, and Po felt a pang of shame crushing his heart like Morn’s Pressure.

“I have serious trouble finding work in Wrath City in my condition. No, the spicy eggs don’t pay my bills, and there aren’t many other jobs I can do.”

They all paused as the gears in their heads spun.

“Don’t misunderstand me; I’m not asking for a handout, or your pity, I’m just warning you I might have to move. So I don’t know how many more letters I’ll be able to send, or how much Conquest I’ll have time for, or how many more eggs I’ll be able to cook for you.”

Morn opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out, so Thro continued.

“I ran into a wealthy Greed demon the other day, and he made an offer to basically buy me as his daughter’s personal egg chef.”

Kat flinched.

“He’s offering to pay really well—like REALLY well—and take good care of me, but it’d mean leaving Wrath City and not being able to sell eggs to you anymore, Morn. Again, I don’t want handouts or pity, and I don’t want you to buy more eggs than you actually want. Can you have Thro appraise them on Saturday? Maybe there’s more magic in them than I think. Maybe they’re some kind of artifact. Or maybe not. I don’t know.” She turned to him. “You don’t have any more on hand, do you?”

His cheeks flushed dark blue. “Of course not. I eat them all early in the week.”

Sighing, she went back to reading, but as her eyes scanned the page, they glistened with tears. “I don’t want to go. Wrath City is my home.”

Morn shot out of his seat, knocking it over next to the picnic table. Without another word, he stormed offscreen.

“I don’t want to pressure you for charity,” Thro called after him. “But if you can’t or don’t want to make an offer that covers my rent and internet, I’m going to have to accept the Greed demon’s offer. There’s no one else I can rely on. Heart Glasses Cashier has her own family to think about. But no matter where I go, I’ll be thinking of you!”

“Yeah,” Morn called from a distance.

“Fight on, Morn!” she yelled, fist raised. “Fight on, Nunch, Kat, and Thro! The Devil’s Chalice is waiting for you!”

He heard a door slam and a vehicle start up far offscreen.

Thro turned to the camera, clutching the letter to her chest. “Egg Waitress!”

Po only realized how many other Wrath demons who’d been training in the courtyard had gathered to listen when they raised their fists with her and cheered. “Fight on, Egg Waitress!”

The image blurred, and Po slowly realized milk tears were streaming down his face. He broke then, ugly crying at his desk.

Po wasn’t sure what was going on. Morn didn’t return for the rest of the stream, and the Nunch Box had to move on to a tournament and flight training without him.

Friday, they started with the ‘Where’s Morn?’ bit, but then he didn’t just show up late like usual—he didn’t show up at all.

Where was Morn? What the hell was he doing? Surely he wasn’t looking for Po. He knew Egg Waitress sold locally, and must suspect Goldme knew where she lived, but surely if he harassed her for Po’s address she’d have already given it to him, right? No one could last long being interrogated by a demon general who could squeeze their soul like a tube of toothpaste.

So he had to be up to something else, and Po had no idea what.

He glanced longingly at the giant rose bouquet, slowly withering in the too-small pitcher of water he’d crammed the stems into.

Well, there was no time to fret over the mystery tonight. Po had to deliver eggs for Thro to appraise tomorrow so he could know what was wrong with him besides the obvious. He cleaned up and threw on a purple plaid button-up shirt that was a bit small on him, but that was fine. Goldme didn’t mind the bottom of his big belly showing. Hiking up his dark gray sweatpants, he slipped into his black shoes, grabbed the plastic bag of clean eggs, and waddled out the door.

It was a little after six when he made it to The Lusty Little Waitress, huffing and puffing. Breath caught, he tried to look confident as he pushed in the door. “Hey, Gold-”

Goldme’s head snapped in his direction and she practically shouted over him. “Hey there, new customer! Welcome to The Lusty Little Waitress!” As she waved, he took in her messy, knotted hair, the dark bags under her eyes, the unnatural paleness of her crimson skin, and the wide, fake smile she kept plastered to her face. “Just because we’re named after a waitress doesn’t mean we allow food in here, haha. You’ll have to take that bag of snacks outside.”

Something was obviously wrong, but the confusion froze Po in the doorway.

A heavy boot hit the ground to his left. Po’s army training kicked in and he flung up his fists—eggs in hand—to guard his head. And if it weren’t for the cage he always wore under his sweats in public, he would’ve egged himself, because what he saw ripped the air from his lungs.

Looming over him was a mountainous mass of shadowy mist. The shadow cloak’s silver trim glittered in the pink mood lighting as the giant demon rose from a chair beside the window which had been hidden from outside by the blackout curtains. The back of his neck brushed the ceiling panels as he hunched.

There was no mistaking the sheer size of Morn Ingstar.

Chapter Text

As Po craned his neck to take in the staggeringly tall shadowy figure looming over him, he lost his balance and fell backwards. His plush butt hit the tile floor with a doughy slap, and his belly gave a comically loud slosh with the clacking of dozens of eggs tossing inside like a water balloon full of marbles. It might genuinely have been the most embarrassing noise he’d ever made, even excluding the pathetic moan he choked back as pleasure speared up his spine.

Said shadowy figure—Morn Ingstar, Po knew, but had a hard time accepting—paused, taking half a step back. Maybe he was dumbfounded by Po’s reaction, but Po couldn’t see his face through the enchanted darkness under his hood.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry, Po!” Goldme rushed around the counter to help. “I tried to get rid of him! I yelled at him. Called him names. Called him BY name. Hit him with a broom! I called the cops—they chickened out. He’s been camping in that chair for almost two fucking days with his friend bringing him food! I had to lock him in overnight!”

“It’s okay, Goldme,” Po said, waving his hand behind him to tell her to stay back without turning his back on the general. He knew Morn wouldn’t hurt her, but felt the help would just make him look even weaker and more pathetic than he already did, splayed halfway on his back with his legs open in the middle of a sex shop.

Morn watched the two quietly for a moment. Then he bent down to one knee, so he wasn’t menacing over them so much, and reached out his left hand like he wanted something.

“Oh,” Po said, handing over the bag. Obviously he came for the eggs.

After another pause, and Po realizing his brain switched to autopilot for that response, the cloaked general reached past the bag and gently cupped his huge hand under Po’s forearm. Applying such careful pressure it felt out of character for Conquest’s brute of a star, he pulled Po to his feet.

As he did, Po felt Morn’s calloused fingers, the smooth insides of his spiked metal rings, and the fabric of his gloves beneath the mist. Holy whoa. He shouldn’t have been stunned by that, but he was. Everything about this man left him starstruck.

“Happy now, you giant DICK?!” Goldme asked, striding to Po’s side while flipping off the general.

Morn didn’t respond.

Po glared at her without turning his head. “Why didn’t you just give him my address?”

She startled. “I didn’t have your address. That’s why I didn’t come to warn you. You don’t have a phone, and I don’t know how to use a computer…”

“Yeah, but you knew I lived in a complex nearby. My neighbors could’ve pointed him in the right direction. Surely after a few hours loitering in your store…”

“I’m a Pride demon,” Goldme reminded him. “We can’t just…let things slide like that. I couldn’t get rid of the bastard, but I wasn’t gonna send him to your doorstep!”

He sighed, giving her a thumbs up. “Thank you, Goldme. I’m really touched that you tried to protect me, but I’ll handle it from here.”

Goldme looked worried, but seemed to accept her job was done, placing a hand on her small baby bump and backing off.

Po’s gaze returned to the shadowy figure.

Morn took a deep, unsteady breath. “Um…Hi. Name? What’s your…name?”

Whoa. Although his voice was quiet and unsure, Po recognized it instantly, and hearing his hero for the first time unfiltered instead of compressed through his laptop’s shitty speakers hit him like a lightning bolt. His short-circuiting brain went back on autopilot, and he saluted. “Um, honorably discharged Wrath Lieutenant Po Learm, sir.”

He froze in place, and although Po couldn’t read his face, his high-pitched squeak made his confusion clear. “Y-…You’re a WRATH demon?”

“Yes, sir,” Po said.

“…But you’re Egg Waitress. You have to be. I heard…” Morn gestured awkwardly at Po’s bulging belly. “Egg.”

Hand lowered to fidget with a button on his shirt, he frowned. “Y-yeah. That’s me. I…ruined your fantasy, I’m sorry,” he said, voice quickening and cracking as his composure began to crumble. Keep it together, Po. Keep it together.

Morn waved his hand, and his voice grew steadier. “No, you’re fine. I think I’m the one who assumed you were a Lust demoness, and that’s my bad.” His posture settled a bit, becoming softer and more casual. “You’re not what I expected, but I’m not mad.”

Fuck, those words punched Po in the heart. In a good way. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t want to cry in front of Morn.

“Do you want to move this conversation somewhere private?” he asked, probably glancing around him at Goldme. “I parked two blocks down.”

Po nodded. He followed as Morn ducked through the door and started down the sidewalk. Oh shit, his strides were so long. Po had to hurry with his wobbly jog to keep up, huffing and puffing.

After a few seconds, Morn seemed to realize he was too damn fast and slowed to Po’s walking pace.

“It’s okay, I can catch up,” Po wheezed.

“No,” he said. “I mean, I don’t want you to have to. Sorry I’m so damn tall.”

“No, I like your height, remember? It’s even hotter in person than on stream.”

Morn rubbed the back of his hooded head as he led Po to the grocery store parking lot. The biggest truck he’d ever laid eyes upon sat in the building’s shadow, pitch black and covered in spikes, with azure flames painted down the sides, a spacious truck bed with a few folded black bags and boxes tossed inside, and black tinted windows that couldn’t be seen through from outside.

“Nunch calls it the Mornmobile,” he said.

With a snort, Po paused next to it to rest and admire the truck up close. “Why haven’t you ever shown this on the show?”

“Because I don’t want strangers recognizing my truck and vandalizing it, or camping it for when I come back from a shopping trip.”

“Makes sense.”

Morn opened the driver’s door and reached in to turn on the air conditioning. At least, that’s what Po assumed he was doing. He’d ridden in a vehicle before. He knew vaguely how they worked.

Po found the handle and swung open the passenger’s door. Hoo boy, the seat was obviously for someone of Morn’s height. The short demon tried to step up and found his fat leg wouldn’t bend enough to get a purchase on the step pad. Shit.

The general joined him.

“Uh, give me a minute,” Po said, struggling to figure this out. How the hell was he going to-

He felt Morn’s hands under his armpits. The gigantic man lifted him like a tiny child.

Flustered, Po scrambled inside and sat. “Th-thanks.”

“Yeah,” Morn said, shutting the door. He walked around and hopped in the driver’s seat, closing that door too, and they were abruptly alone together in the cooling truck.

It smelled like Morn. Like his moss-cedar-lime cologne, but so much stronger than the miniscule amount which had rubbed off on the bouquet wrapping. Po inhaled, savoring it.

Then Morn undid the clasp of his shadow cloak, and the mist broke. The darkness tore off his body like wrapping paper as he tossed the cloak in the back seat, revealing his beautiful azure skin, his glossy black hair that cascaded in waves down to his neck, and his sharp crimson eyes with thick black lashes.

Wonderstruck, Po gaped like a ghost fish, staring at his hero in ultra high definition. The spiked stud piercings along his pointy ears and above and below his eyes were polished and glistening. He had a strong but elegant chin, and a bit of stubble from missing a shave. Po’s eyes trailed down his body, from the shining studs lining his collarbone, to his wide-necked black crop top, to the perfect azure abs it left exposed, the spiked studs trailing over his hips, his spiked belt and shredded blue jeans, the black fingerless gloves and spiked rings he usually wore, and his spiked black cowboy boots. Fuck, he was so fucking cool!

When Po finally remembered Morn’s eyes were up there, he realized with horror that Morn was taking him all in too. His smoldering crimson eyes wandered over every bloated inch of Po’s grotesque body, and although he didn’t look displeased, Po felt shame grip his heart.

“S-sorry, I’m disgusting,” he mumbled, covering himself with his arms for what little good that did.

Morn’s eyes widened and zeroed in on his face. “What? I-…D-did I say or do something to make you feel that way?”

Po frowned. “Well, no, I’m just used to that being what everyone thinks. Only Goldme’s been accepting.”

“Everyone else is wrong,” he said. “You’re not disgusting. You’re…Uh…” Morn slapped himself in the face. “I’m bad with words.”

He waited.

“You’re like…androgynous handsome-cute?” he tried to explain. “Um, your eyes are a pretty shade of gold, and your half hot half cold skin looks like a lava lamp. It’s so much more interesting than mine. And, like, you’re big…” He gestured to Po’s features as he stated the obvious. “But I like that. If that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Po said, as Morn’s kind words warmed his heart, and his cheeks. And his co-

“I mean, you look like…” He stopped, blushing madly and covering his mouth. “You know.”

“Like what?”

“You know,” he repeated.

Mm, Po wondered if he did though, and then something he should have kept at the forefront of his mind during this whole conversation smashed him over the head like a brick:

Morn might be thin now, but he also laid eggs. And not by force, like Po did; Morn spent his weekends incubating Po’s eggs to the size of honeydew melons and orgasmically laying them…for fun.

Three Tube Dude was Morn Ingstar, but Morn Ingstar was also Three Tube Dude.

“I look like YOU on the weekends?”

Morn buried his head in his hands, burning with embarrassment.

Po cracked up. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I just forgot your hobby for a hot minute because I’m used to only seeing you as the star of Conquest. Don’t you talk about this with anyone? Even Kat?”

“Nope. You saw our entire conversation on Conquest,” he said, obviously out of his element with anything Lust. “It’s a thing I do alone on the weekends because I’m a freak, and it doesn’t leave my apartment.” Morn groaned. “If anything, you’re probably disgusted with me.”

Offended, yet emboldened, Po tightened his eyes. “I jack off to Conquest.”

Morn slowly raised his head, turning on him, too confused to laugh. “Seriously?”

“Okay, well, it’s more like I happen to watch Conquest while masturbating,” he said. “Okay, well, I do also get off fantasizing about you. Obsessing over every little thing about you. So if either of us is the freak, it’s me. Lately, it’s been your cologne that rubbed off on the bouquet wrapping that does it for me. Your cologne smells so fucking good, Morn.”

“Th-thanks,” Morn said, managing a small smile. “So does yours.”

“What?” Po asked, confused. “What do you mean, so does mine? I’m not wearing cologne.”

He blinked. “But you smell like…something.”

“Egg?”

“Yeah, kinda like the spicy scent of your eggs, but with…something else too? Like a…sweet milk…?” Curious, Morn sniffed the air, then leaned closer and took a deep whiff of Po’s hair, trailing down his jaw to his throat in a way that made Po’s heart thunder in his chest—and his loins. “Fuck, ah…!”

Gods, that moan wasn’t Po’s for once. After making that sensual sound, Morn leaned away suddenly, retreating to his seat. His skin simmered hot blue, and the crotch of his jeans had tented. Oh, he was every bit as hung as Po had imagined.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Morn gasped. He shifted to try hiding his shame.

Po thought about it. “Right, Goldme mentioned I produce an aphrodisiac? It might be that?”

He nodded. “Mhm. It’s that. Didn’t realize I could get a hit off the smell, because the tube eggs don’t have a scent as strong as yours.”

“I also wash them,” Po said. “They also go a tiny bit stale when not refrigerated for a few hours. Far as I’m aware, they don’t expire, but they’re best fresh.”

Morn shuddered. “Fresh…Uh, sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault,” he said, patting Morn’s thigh. “Besides, now I’ll feel better during my impending involuntary orgasm.”

He paused. “Your what?”

The eggs dropped, and Po gasped against his will. Shit, he didn’t wanna do this in front of his hero.

Immediately attentive, Morn hovered over him like a mother hen. “What’s happening? What do you need?”

“Don’t need anything. I j-just, ah…!” He felt them nudge at his cock, but the cage gave them nowhere to go, and he slowly came down from dry cumming against his plug. Fuck, he’d never been so embarrassed. “I’m s-sorry. Um…I’m a Wrath demon with a Lust curse. I lay eggs like a chicken. And I orgasm reflexively about every twenty m-minutes, and I’m disgusting, and I’m sorry…”

“You’re not disgusting,” Morn said, hands still hovering around Po’s belly like he wanted to help but wasn’t sure how. “…Is this part of why you turned down the date? If you did that in a restaurant, and it sounds like you can’t…not do that…ever, you’d get weird stares…”

“Mhm. Yeah, I’m banned from like twenty different eateries around Wrath City. Eventually I just gave up. Movies are an even bigger beast. I have to lay eggs at least hourly, or I get painfully full. After three hours, I can’t lift my belly anymore, and after five I burst my plugs and pass out from an endless eggasm. That’s also why I can’t find a fucking job.”

Morn swore, slumping his shoulders.

“And it’s why this isn’t going to work,” Po said, cradling his big, stupid gut. “You’re Wrath General Morn Ingstar. Star of Conquest and soon to be a god. You deserve so much better. At the bare minimum, you deserve a date who can actually go on the date with you.”

“Takeout and television,” he said, and the quickness of his counteroffer slapped Po upside the head.

“…”

“Or something recorded, so we can pause it while you lay your eggs. We could go to your place.”

Furious, Po slammed his fist on the car door’s armrest, startling the general. “I don’t want you to have to compromise for me!”

Morn’s eyes tightened. “Shove a sewing machine up your ass. I WANT to compromise for you, Po.”

Fuck, his name sounded so good on Morn’s lips.

Reluctant and reeling, but unable to come up with a good argument, Po told the general his address and pointed to the apartments. Since it was only a block away, they hopped out of the huge truck and walked. Well, waddled, in Po’s case.

Edges of his mouth turned down in a frown at the sorry state of the crusty old complex, Morn got on his hands and knees and crawled through the door after his date. He was every bit as hot and completely out of place as Po had imagined.

“So this is my room,” Po said, gesturing around at his sad little studio apartment. Just a narrow kitchen, his bed, desk, and dresser, and the bathroom in back. “It’s not much, but make yourself at home. I’d offer you coffee or tea, but I don’t have any.”

Morn rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to poke the ceiling with his upward-curving horns. “What do you drink?”

“Milk.”

“Sounds fine.”

Po gestured to his swollen pecs. “No, like, my own milk.”

Morn blushed. “Y-you make milk too…?”

Then he shook his head like a dog shaking the water out of its coat. “You drink only your own milk?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Okay. I mean, if you enjoy it, that’s great. Just caught me off guard-”

He chuckled. “Oh, I don’t enjoy it. I’m just poor.”

Morn stopped. The general looked around again. Like really LOOKED at Po’s apartment. At the shoddy old furniture. At how sparse it was. He looked at the dozens of stupid fucking eggs lying everywhere, all over and under the bed, under the desk, trailing out of the bathroom, and in boxes and bags in the corners and all over the counter. He leaned into the kitchen and thumbed open the cabinets to look at the endless rows of eggs, then looked in the fridge. Eggs. Eggs, eggs, three big gallons of milk, and more eggs. Every shelf, wall to wall eggs.

“Wh-?! If you lay this fucking many, why do you only sell three measly tubes?!” he asked, high-pitched, alarmed, and offended to his core.

“The store manager only wants three a week. Please don’t yell, my neighbors are proper Wrath demons who will kill me.”

Stunned, Morn Ingstar sat in the entryway with the most demoralized thousand-yard stare Po had ever seen on his handsome face.

“If you’re going to change your mind about the date, can you at least do it after you order takeout?” Po asked, voice shaking as he dreaded the inevitable. He waddled to his laptop and opened the folder of pirated movies. “I haven’t had a full meal that didn’t come out of my cock in, what, ten…eleven months? When did I have that burger?”

Morn scooted backwards out the door, got up, and sprinted down the street.

Yeah, that’s what Po thought. He thumped down into his desk chair so heavily he almost broke it, clawing at his hair and trying to hold himself together. The lights flickered again, and Po wanted to tell the gods to shut the fuck up because he didn’t have a shred of patience left for them.

“Here,” Morn said, dumping something black on the floor.

Po about jumped out of his mottled skin, shocked that he came back at all, let alone so quickly. “Wh-. I-. What the hell are these?” he asked, nudging the shiny black fabric with his slip-in shoe. Tote bags?

“Pack your shit.” He set a big cardboard box on the kitchen floor and started pulling bags and boxes of eggs off the counter and out of the cabinets, dumping them in.

Po watched him, bewildered. “Why?”

“What do you mean, WHY?” Morn asked, occupied with his task. “You love this shitty city, and THIS is the way it treats you?”

The egg-filled demon hefted himself out of his chair. “To be fair, I’ve let Wrath City down by getting myself permanently cursed and sucking at every job it sent me.”

“Nothing about the way you live is fair!”

His neighbor banged on the wall. “Turn down that damn internet show, Po Learm, or I’m gonna break that newfangled laptop thing over your skull!”

Morn flared his Pressure, inciting a strangled squeal from next door. “You wanna die in a spike trap tonight, noisy neighbor?!”

Dam bursting, Po broke, ugly-crying as milk cascaded down his face. “I’m sorry! Sorry I’m so fucking pathetic! I don’t deserve your kindness!” He tried to wipe his eyes, but the tears just kept gushing out. “I’m sorry I cry spilled milk!”

“Fuck, Po, did you really think I’d have been able to live with myself if I saw the squalor you lived in and thought takeout and television were a good enough fix? Pack your shit already, because I’m taking you to Wrathgard.”

Chapter Text

Morn put his cloak back on to carry boxes of eggs back to the truck, since the neighbors were gathering to check out their ruckus and he didn’t want to be bothered. Po loaded his meager wardrobe, toiletries, and few sex toys into one bag, his kitchenware, blender, and way too many towels into another, and he put his laptop, paperwork, and other things into his own blue tote bag.

He left those on the bed for Morn and locked himself in the bathroom for one last milking before he hit the road, laying almost forty eggs in the high of realizing his hero really came to save him.

After that, he cleaned off, put his cage and clothes back on, poured the milk into a repurposed two-liter soda bottle, and filled four plastic bags with fresh eggs.

Po took a last look around his apartment, disturbed by how clean it’d become. Morn even packed up the loose eggs that had been lying all over the place. His landlord certainly wouldn’t be complaining.

“Ready?” Morn asked, poking his head through the door.

He nodded.

They left the door unlocked and started back toward the truck. Halfway there, Po flinched as five Wrath demons with clubs gathered in their path.

“Hey, big guy,” the broadest thug said with a smug smirk, tapping his wooden club on his shoulder. “Looks like you’re new to this part of town, so I’ll go easy on-”

Morn’s Pressure slammed them all to the sidewalk.

Alright, Po had to admit it was nice having a general for a friend.

Morn helped him into the truck before stuffing the rest of his things—except his bucket, which Po put on the passenger’s floor mat in case he needed it later—in one of the boxes in the truck bed. He buckled them down for the ride. When everything was ready, he knocked on the window and Po rolled it down with a button—much nicer than the crank in the last vehicle he rode in.

“Gonna be right back,” Morn said. “You want anything from the grocery store?”

“Food,” Po said.

With a thumbs up, he darted to the entrance at supernatural speed. Ten minutes passed before he reappeared from the opposite direction, stuffing a big bag of ice into one of the boxes in back before hopping in the driver’s seat and taking off the cloak. Morn set a bag of snacks on the armrest between the front seats. “Here. Take what you want, but save room for dinner. We’ll stop by an actual restaurant on the way.”

Drool ran down Po’s chin as he stared at the food. There was a takeout box with a noodle dish from the deli, potato chips, gummy worms, and a couple colas. “Sweet nectar of heaven and hell…” Po tore into the spicy noodles like his life depended on them. Maybe it was his desperation, but they were the tastiest thing he’d ever eaten.

Morn started the truck, pulling out of the lot.

“So,” Po started, swallowing. “Why’d you appear from the other side?”

“Oh. Stopped at the grocery store to buy a thank-you card for Goldme. Stuffed a couple thousand saflecks in it for her. To pay her back for helping you, and for putting up with me being a pain in her ass.”

That was a lot of money, but if he could afford it, she deserved it. “I appreciate you doing that. Thank you.”

“Goldme’s a good friend,” he said, smiling. “Not many demons are willing to face a Wrath general for their pal.”

Noodles devoured, Po nodded and cracked open the bag of potato chips. Fuck, the salty crunch was so good he came.

“Also, on the topic of saflecks, we’ll work something out later to pay you for the eggs. I feel like garbage for only giving you 9sf a week. Sorry. What did that Greed demon you mentioned offer? I’ll double it. Minimum.”

Po swallowed, doubting that. “I’ll show you the email later if you really want to know, but don’t worry about it. It’s not the money I care about so much as just…being allowed to live in my hometown, lay my eggs so I don’t explode, and watch Conquest.”

“You dream too small,” Morn said, leaning back with one hand on the wheel. “Starting today, you get whatever the hell you want. If I can make it happen, I will. You want me to rent out an entire diner and theater so you can have a traditional human-style date without demons climbing up your ass for being cursed? Done.”

Heart warmed, he opened the gummy worms and one of the colas. “You don’t need to go that far. Let’s start with dinner.”

A drop of sweat rolled down the general’s cheek as he glanced at the empty takeout box and chip bag. “You sure you’re saving room?”

Po took a swig of soda. “Morn, you underestimate how much room I have. While I understand budget restrictions or putting me on a diet for my own good, I’m just warning you now that I will wolf down however much you’re willing to give me like the garbage disposal I am.”

Morn frowned.

They drove to a Chinese restaurant, and Po waited in the truck while Morn went inside to buy food. Twenty minutes later, he returned with three big bags stuffed full of steaming hot takeout, and Po wondered if he’d died and gone to paradise.

“Eat as much as you want,” Morn said, setting the bags between them. “If we actually manage to eat everything, I’ll go back in for another order until you’re satisfied.”

Absolutely beaming, Po scarfed a dozen pot stickers, inhaled two pounds of pork fried rice, and downed a family-sized box of barbecue pork. The sweet and sour chicken was so delicious it made him fucking cry again.

Morn swallowed a bowl of egg flower soup in three gulps, mostly just watching Po. “Man, you really can pack it away.”

“Mhm,” Po said, nodding with his mouth full. He swallowed. “You’re my savior, Morn. I’ve never been so happy.”

A bright, delighted smile stretched across his dazzling face.

Musical beeping about scared Po out of his mottled skin.

Also startled, Morn reached into the back seat and grabbed a glowing rectangle—the source of the noise. “Sorry, it’s this…cell phone? No. Smartphone? I don’t know. It’s new. Kat’s calling. What do you want me to call you?”

“Uh…My name?” Po asked. “Unless you wanna pretend that I’m a Lust demoness and call me Sunny Sideup for the others. I understand.” He hadn’t dwelled on it yet, but just because Morn accepted him in private didn’t mean he wanted to show Po off to his friends.

Morn touched a green button and a speaker icon on the little screen, under a picture of Kat. Her nickname was ‘Bitchass Goat’.

“Hey asshole,” Kat said, slurring with a stuffed mouth. “You better have abandoned your post for the happy ending, because I’ve already eaten your damn dinner.”

“Yeah, I did. Thanks for bringing it, but I’m in the truck at that one Chinese restaurant eating with Egg Waitress now.”

Po heard a distant “YES!” before she returned to the speaker, swallowing. “So, you finally found her?”

“Actually, HIS name’s Po Learm,” Morn said without hesitation. “He’s a Wrath demon.”

Kat went silent for a long moment. “…Oh. Po Learm? Mm. Uh…Dating another man? That’s pretty gay.”

“Like you’re one to talk, picking up girls at the bar every weekend.”

Po cracked up at their banter, overcome with relief that Morn wasn’t ashamed of him and Kat wasn’t mad. They scared him for a second.

“Is that him?” Kat asked. “Yo, Po!”

“Hey, Kat,” he said. “Big fan. You’re awesome on Conquest.”

“I know. Y’alright? Your letter was kinda…concerning.”

He frowned. “Well…”

Morn’s eyes glowed in the dim car. “How much are you comfortable sharing? You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but we can trust Kat.”

Po thought, then nodded his consent, and they explained his condition to the other demon.

“Gotta say, I don’t know much about witches or curses,” Kat said. “But Thro would. Nunch might also be able to give you some insight. Have you seen a doctor?”

“Once,” Po said, picking up another piece of sweet and sour chicken. “They gave me an ultrasound, and apparently most of my organs have, uh…melted together. I’m essentially an egg sac with legs…”

Morn grimaced, and Po remembered he hadn’t mentioned that yet.

“Alright, I’m booking you an in-depth appointment with Wrathgard’s head doctor. I assume Thro and Nunch are sucking each other’s faces off in his apartment, so I’ll text ‘em tomorrow.”

“In the meantime,” Morn started, opening a box of kung pao chicken and rice. “I got him out of his shithole apartment and I’m taking him to live with me in Wrathgard.”

“Good. Sounds like he could use the in-home support.”

Po flinched. “I don’t need support, just money or resources, because it’s hard to find a job like this. I take care of myself at home just fine.”

Morn frowned.

“Right, Wrath demon. Let me rephrase: you’re strong as the gods, tough as Mount Tabbiramae, and you can pull your weight on your own, but you deserve better. Sure, you’ve got a strong arm, but nobody should need to carve through the jungle every time they go out for fresh air.”

He struggled to argue with that. When Po thought about it, he’d never tell another demon in similar condition to deal with it themself.

“Let Morn make you comfortable. He’s a good dude. You can rely on him.”

“Okay,” Po said, nodding, although he realized she couldn’t see him.

Morn finished his bite of rice. “Speaking of making him comfortable, I’m really out of my element here. Grew up taking care of Nunch, but all I had to do for him was break his bullies’ legs and carry him to the medic’s tent. Gimme ideas?”

Kat hummed. “Depends what exactly Po struggles with. Po, what would you say are your smallest hurdles? Not the big stuff like getting attacked on the streets and not being able to earn a living, because Morn should handle those fine, I mean like things that make it hard to get out of bed in the morning and keep the apartment clean.”

He thought about it. “Mostly it’s just that I’m so heavy and horny all the time.” Po stroked the top of his belly, a warm weight always sitting in his lap. “Moving around is hard. My gut gets in the way and makes walking anywhere arduous. And embarrassing, because a lot of my shirts are too small. People are always asking when I’m due and if they can feel the baby kick, and some of them get really pissed when I tell them I’m not pregnant. I’ve even had more than a handful accuse me of doing this to myself for attention.”

“Yeah, well, those people can go die in a spike trap,” Morn grumbled.

“Fuck ‘em all,” Kat said. “Not sure what to do about that though. Dunno if a shapeshifting artifact would work since the eggs are cursed? Artifacts to boost your strength, speed, and stamina should be simple enough to get my hands on though. Belly still heavy, but legs stronger.”

Po almost choked on a fortune cookie. “Artifacts are so expensive though. They are to me, at least. That’s why I never thought about trying that.” His eyes narrowed. “Besides, I thought artifact acquisition and sales were Thro’s job.”

“Thro’s job is appraisal. I handle the auction house. And we don’t talk about it on the show because I don’t want the fans to know I’m a fuckin’ neeeeerd!”

He laughed, supposing that made sense.

“You said you have to lay hourly, but preferably every twenty minutes when your body tries to? What about sleep?”

“I lay in my sleep and wake up soaked and surrounded by eggs,” he said.

“Shit. Uh…Wonder if I can have a custom bed made for you. Waterproof sheets? Holes for the eggs to tumble down and collect in a bin underneath or something? Oh. Duh. You know what would be smarter? Pumps.”

“P-pumps?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to a professional to make this better in practice than I’m about to make it sound, but you’d attach tubes to your holes before you slept and they’d suck up all the good stuff overnight.”

Po tried to picture it and wondered if he could have rigged something like that with cheap tubing from a hardware store. “Sounds good? In the meantime, um, Morn, I’m sorry in advance for getting milk and eggs all over your couch.”

Brow furled, he frowned down at the smaller demon. “You’re not sleeping on the couch; I am.”

“Just share the bed you stupid bitches,” Kat sighed.

Rubbing the backs of their necks, Po and Morn said, “Only if you want to,” at the same time.

“Go get settled and suck each other’s faces off already. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She hung up.

Both blushing, they finished the food. Morn really did go back in for more while Po laid a few dozen eggs into the bucket between his feet.

“I know what I said,” Po started, buttoning his pants as Morn opened the door and set five stuffed, steaming bags of food between them. “But I don’t know if I can eat THAT much more food.”

“I have a big fridge,” Morn said, shutting the door behind himself.

They took off, and Po kept snacking on the best crab wontons he’d ever eaten as they crossed the Wrath City bridge and drove onward toward the foot of the volcano.

Mount Tabbiramae was beautiful. In general, but especially against the pink and orange sunset. Jagged and tall, with sharp edges, steep cliffs, and black veins of cooled lava. It erupted annually, and the Wrath gods protected the city, so it was always a celebration instead of a crisis. Tabbiramae Day was coming up in a few months, and Po wondered if he’d be celebrating with Morn. Maybe he’d get to watch the eruption up close.

“After you power up with artifacts and become stronger and more mobile,” Morn started, making the turn onto the mountain road. “Would you ever be interested in hiking the volcano trail with me?”

“Hell yes,” Po said. “I haven’t gotten to go since I was a teenager, but me and the guys from my squad used to hike up here all the time. We used to fantasize about becoming kick-ass Wrath captains, generals, or admirals, and training with the legendary warriors of Wrathgard. Uh, we might’ve tried to jump the fence a few times. Yes, they shot us for it. You seriously can’t get past security unless you’re at least a captain, or invited by someone who’s at least a captain.”

Morn chuckled. “Well, you’re officially invited by someone who’s at least a captain. You don’t have to hop the fence.”

“I know. It’s surreal.”

Po wondered if demons who hadn’t grown up in Wrath City would be surprised by how green the volcano road and trail were. Lush trees reached up over the street, dripping with ivy, moss, and glowing fruits like hanging lanterns. They were grown with magic to provide shade, light, and a more pleasant hike. Wrath demons bitched and moaned about being babied, but they still had limits and preferences. Ambrellosh’s cold-resistent demons especially appreciated a break from the sun.

The truck reached the end of the main road, and the gate loomed before them. Sheer cliffs made of solid rainbow obsidian funneled guests toward it. Wrathgard’s architects had sanded them down and polished them to a shine so the sediments inside sparkled and danced with all the colors of the cosmos. They were breathtaking, and Po was one of many demons who hiked up here to stare at them for hours at a time, longing to walk through that gate.

Flinching as the gate guard approached, Po recognized the guy who shot his squad. The six-foot tall, obsidian-skinned demon wore the exact navy blue uniform and captain’s hat he did nine or ten years ago.

Morn stopped at the gate and rolled down his window. “Hey, Law, I wanna talk to you for a minute.”

“Of course,” he said, marching up to the truck. Saying he LOOKED inside wasn’t quite right, since his eyes were surrounded by thick scars and replaced with two rainbow obsidian glass eyes, but he was just as creepily aware of his surroundings as he had been when Po last saw him. Law saluted. “Welcome back, Generals.”

“I-.” Morn paused. “Generals? With an S?”

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Obviously I recognize your Pressure, Morn, but I’m afraid I haven’t felt your guest’s Hellfire before. Welcome to Wrathgard, sir or madam.”

Po fidgeted with his box of wontons. “You know, you’re the second mage to mistake me for a general, and I’m starting to worry.”

Law frowned. “My mistake, Admiral. Won’t happen again.”

“Admiral?!” He sputtered, almost dropping the wontons. “That’s even worse!”

Morn looked so fucking confused, like the guard bonked him over the head with a hammer. “Po feels like a general or admiral to you? Huh?”

The guard adjusted his hat. “He feels like he’s generating a tremendous amount of magic. To be honest, it’s higher than most Admirals put off when they’re at rest, but they tamp it down on purpose so they don’t startle every mage they pass in the hallway. I can’t imagine a captain able to extrude energy this monstrous.”

Po swallowed. “I’m actually Lieutenant Po Learm. You shot me for trying to jump the fence nine or ten years ago.”

He looked perplexed. “Afraid I don’t remember. Sorry, but that’s just our policy for trespassers. No hard feelings, Lieutenant.”

He sighed.

Morn rested his arm on the windowsill. “I’m guessing the answer to my question is ‘yes’.”

“Were you going to ask if I’m able to identify Po?” Law asked. “Yes, I’ll have no trouble checking him in and out of Wrathgard. If you’ll permit it, he can pass through the gate any time.”

After grunting affirmation, Morn looked at Po, understood he was confused, and clarified. “This is Captain Tigerc Law. He identifies us by Hellfire—which is part of why only captains and above can gain entry. Most lieutenants and recruits don’t have Hellfires yet.”

Law nodded. “Sorry, but paper IDs aren’t good enough when you’re guarding the gate for and against gods and monsters.”

Chapter Text

Law turned the crank in the guardhouse, and the great black gate shuddered. Ambrellosh’s crimson five-pronged star emblazoned on the black metal rose with it, and Po felt like a wonderstruck kid again as he, for the first time not on video, witnessed Wrathgard.

He was prepared for the stairs. Not prepared to climb them, obviously, but he was mentally prepared—he knew Wrathgard had a fuckton of stairs. Wrathgard’s small but compact village sprawled between many plateaus on the volcano’s slope, bridged by up, down, and all around stories of crimson stone stairs. The black buildings glowed with thousands of enchanted lights in every color of the spectrum like a swarm of varicolor fireflies, and the spiked tower loomed behind it all, casting the village in deep, inky shadow.

Po teared up, trembling as he came, but couldn’t pull his eyes away. “It’s beautiful. I l-love this place.”

Morn nodded. “Good, because you live here now.”

He drove the rest of the way up the road and pulled off to the left where a parking garage sat up against the cliff face. Inside, Po noticed the parking spaces were…rectangular magic circles? They were drawn with enchanted runes, and each projected a translucent magic barrier. Each also had a name written in the runes, and the spaces that didn’t belong to someone specific were labeled ‘Guest’.

“I’m sorry Law hurt you before,” Morn said, sweating. “I don’t want to get on his case because he’s a good guy who was just doing his job, and screwing with one of Gu’s boys would be a bad idea, but I will start shit if you want me to.”

“Gu? Are you saying he’s one of Wrath Admiral Gu N’s sons?” Po asked, getting a nod of confirmation in return. “That’s fine. I broke the rules and paid for it, and I’m just glad he’s not mad.”

Morn Ingstar parked in Morn Ingstar’s space, obviously. He shut off the truck and walked around to the passenger side where he helped Po down.

Po didn’t realize just how much he’d eaten until his feet touched the ground and way too much weight settled on his poor legs. He groaned, cradling his bulging belly. It looked like he needed to deliver triplets, and his shirt barely stretched to his belly button. But it felt so much better and warmer to be full of real food than endlessly recycled eggs.

Curious, Po waddled around to glance at some of the other spaces. Nunch Ucks’ was right next to Morn’s and housed an equally huge and customized blue truck with white and pink stars, and…a little drawing on the hood?

Po looked closer. A black ink doodle of a plump woman lounged on her stomach on the hood north of his right headlight. She had a cartoonishly large and pointy nose, long and curly hair, longer and curlier lashes, a manta ray mermaid’s tail, and…wheels? Po thought he recognized the character, but couldn’t remember from where.

The girls’ spaces were across the aisle. Kat Ana’s was empty, which made sense since she’d gone to deliver Morn’s dinner to The Lusty Little Waitress, and Thro Wingstar’s space, instead of containing a vehicle, held a blue mountain bike with a basket strapped to the handlebars.

Morn raised his hands and clapped twice. “Maid Brigade!”

Beads of crimson light blasted forth from thin air and formed a woman in front of him. A blue demoness in a black and white maid outfit bowed. “Yes, General?”

“Please take all the food, the bucket, and the stuff in the truck bed to my room.”

“They’ll be there when you arrive,” she said. Then she glanced at Po, considered him for a moment, and brightened with a smile. “Egg Waitress? Oh, Morn, she’s lovely.”

Po flustered. “Not a woman.”

Morn looked at her. “Please inform the rest of the Maid Brigade that my boyfriend’s name is Po Learm. He’s to be addressed as a male Wrath demon and treated with the same respect you show me. Please also tell them he’s not pregnant.”

“Yes, General,” she said. “Pardon me: HE’s lovely.”

“Thanks,” Po said, scratching the back of his head.

Morn led him toward the exit. “Sorry about that. The annoying assumptions should stop within a week or two. Most everyone here’s been taught that not everybody’s body lines up with their soul and that you shouldn’t be a dick about it.”

“I’m glad. That’ll make living here so much less stressful.”

“And if someone’s a dick about it to you anyway,” he said, clenching his fist. “I’ll fucking kill them.”

Po snorted. “I don’t know if you need to go that far, but I’m not gonna pretend I wouldn’t appreciate that too.”

“Oh, speaking of things you’ll appreciate,” Morn said, stopping at the exit. “There are a few commands you can use for Wrathgard’s magic, like I just did. You clap twice and say a specific phrase. Uh, I have a manual about it somewhere. You can summon maids, medics, order from the kitchen or library, AND you can do this.” He clapped twice. “Move Me To the village square.”

Morn burst into crimson beads. They flew out the door and reformed him at the top of the first staircase in the distance. He waved back at Po.

Dumbfounded, Po took a second for his brain to restart before he copied the gesture. “Move Me To the village square?”

It felt like plunging underwater. Po felt his senses stop working for a moment as his body rushed through the void like river rapids. He didn’t blink, his vision went black and red, and suddenly he was stumbling into the village square, eyes adjusting to the new lighting, trying not to topple onto his belly.

Morn gently grabbed his arm before he could trip. “You okay?”

Po caught his balance. “I think so? Fuck, that was a trip.”

“Yep. There are a few places you can teleport around Wrathgard—including to my floor of the tower so you don’t have to take the stairs. They’re written in that manual. I’ll find it tonight.”

“I don’t have to climb stairs?” he asked, tearing up with joy.

Morn shook his head, smiling. “Just beware that if you teleport too much too fast, it’ll wear you out and make you sick. Found that out the hard way my first week here.”

“Noted,” Po said, already feeling slightly sick. But then he took in the village square, and all was forgiven.

Dozens of demons in ornate armor or silk robes bustled about between fancy shops and restaurants. Rainbows of potions, endless rows of every melee weapon under the sun, racks of clothes from a thousand different times and cultures, everything was so much nicer here than the shitty city designs Wrath City stole from future humans from the Otherworlds because they were cheap as dirt to manufacture.

Morn pat him on the back. “I was gonna say we should Move To floor twelve, but if you wanna look around…”

Po turned to him, eyes sparkling, and nodded furiously.

With Morn following, Po waddled around the village, admiring the shops and all the neat stuff on display. He got a few stares, but was too excited to care.

A blue demoness wrapped in her own black wings like a cloak flinched as she passed them. “Whose ass are you on the way to kick, Morn?”

“Huh?” Morn asked, confused. “I’m not.”

Her eyes fell to Po. Must be another mage.

“Not an Admiral,” Po said. “Witch’s curse.”

Her eyebrows rose. “That’s one hell of a curse.”

She moved on, and they continued up the crimson brick path.

A group of warriors in furs and Viking helmets gathered outside a weapons shop ahead. One of them stared at Po, making him flinch, but then they burst into grins and shouted, “EGG WAITRESS!”

With a nervous chuckle, Po waved. “Uh, hey.”

“Wow, Morn,” one of them said. “You knocked her up already?”

Morn’s Pressure slammed them all to the bricks. “Call my boyfriend pregnant again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

They got up and begged for forgiveness, gathering around Po to welcome him and ask what was going on.

“It’s a witch’s curse,” Po said. “I lay eggs like a chicken.”

“I see,” one of them said, scratching his beard. He looked at Po’s belly. Then up at Morn. Then back down at Po and up at Morn again. “So, the, uh…eggs he serves you…”

Face burning deep blue, Morn made a strangled noise.

One of the other warriors crossed his beefy arms. “Kinda hot, if you ask me.”

Pressure slammed them all to the ground again, and the general led his date away.

They passed a procession of ten scholars in black robes, and one caught Po’s eye. Apparently Po also caught his eye, because the guy and two girls flinched and stopped in their tracks, and the others knocked into them like bowling pins.

“Sorry,” Po told him, trying not to laugh at their accident. “I didn’t expect to see a human here.”

“No, I get it. We’re not common in Ambrellosh’s strongholds,” the hornless, round-eared, peach-skinned lad said, obviously trying to make eye contact instead of staring at Po’s monstrous middle. “I was adopted by demons, and my mom brought me here to study as a mage. If I may…Sorry if this is a rude question. Are you carrying a monster egg?”

The other seven mages looked confused.

One of the girls raised her glowing hands to Po’s belly. “It’s almost too menacing to be a regular monster. An eldritch parasite, perhaps?”

Po frowned. “It’s eggs, but from a witch’s curse.”

“I see,” the human said. “A layman’s witch, or a scientific witch?”

Frozen, Po had to reboot his brain again. “What the fuck are either of those things?”

He raised his hands and sculpted two humanoid figures from magic light. They stood on his palms like dolls. “Oh, when I say a layman’s witch, I mean the aesthetic. Pointy hats and black cats, brewing potions and riding a broom under the full moon.” He held up the green-skinned witch figure with her hat and cat. Then switched to the plainly dressed human figure. “But ‘witch’ is also a scientific term that refers to a human or elf who mutated a Hellfire, like me.”

Po puzzled over that, not wanting to remember the witch incident. “I…don’t know. She didn’t have green skin, a pointy hat, a black cat, or a broom, so I guess she wasn’t a layman’s witch. But I have no idea where she got her Hellfire, or if she even had one. Unless it was, you know, this,” he said, patting his tum.

The demoness mage tapped her chin. “She obviously had some sort of magic. Was she human?”

“I don’t know,” Po said. “She had tan skin and pointy ears like an elf.”

“That’s unfortunate, because I was thinking maybe she used a Prowess from The Great Owl.”

“It could still be a Prowess,” the human said. “Elven genes are dominant, so a half-elf could easily inherit a Prowess and look more like their elf parent than their human one. General Morn’s actually a great example.”

Morn frowned self-consciously, pulling at his pointy ears. “Y-yeah, the doctor said my great grandma was an elf, but is it really that obvious?”

“Yeah,” the mages agreed.

Po looked at him again. “Now that they mention it, you do have an elvish beauty about you.”

The demoness mage laughed. “We could pick apart Morn’s mixed ancestry by his appearance. Elven ears and facial shape, human bone structure and muscles…”

“Ambrellosian skin color,” the human said. “But with a more Hazaelian height and horn shape.”

Morn crossed his arms, flustered. “Alright, the field trip to my family tree is over. What were you saying about Prowesses?”

The human chuckled. “Well, The Great Owl’s Prowesses replace a person’s real body with an illusory one made of magic.”

Po gaped. “I’m living in an illusion?!”

“Maybe,” he said.

“How do I find out?”

“Mm. It’s simple, but stressful. You have to break the illusion with force, like cracking open a walnut.”

The hope fizzled out of Po like a deflating balloon. “So, um…I might have, at some point…taken a spill off the Wrath City bridge? What are the chances it would’ve broken the illusion?”

“One hundred percent,” he said. “So it’s not a Prowess, and now I’m stumped. Sorry.”

The demoness mage took another look at his belly. “It could be a Darkness from The Great Bat? Darknesses deal with sensing, manipulating, and transporting through the Void realm. Teleporting some eldritch horror’s eggs into his guts?”

Po’s hope rose again. “I wonder if that’s it!”

“Have you hatched any?” the human asked.

“No,” he said, then looked up at Morn. Po’d only seen the incubated product once. Goldme hadn’t mentioned anything about hatching, but…

“All duds so far,” Morn said. “We have a scanner thing for ‘em.”

They did?

Adjusting his tie, the human smiled. “What do the eggs look like? Color? Shape?”

Morn pulled one out of his pocket. Po was more than a little embarrassed, but he held his tongue as the mages passed it around, examining the obsidian black, perfectly round, golf ball-sized egg, especially fixated on the swirly pink heart mark they all had.

The human shrugged. “I have absolutely no idea what this is.”

“I’ll check the Void encyclopedia.”

“Nothing like this is in there—I’ve memorized it.”

He turned it around to show the heart. “Is this painted, or do they come out like this?”

“They’ve always come out like that,” Po said.

“Can we have this to look at in a lab?”

Po nodded. “Just don’t eat it.”

“Why would I…?” Pausing, the human went pale. His eyes darted to Morn, and then he choked back a laugh. “Hh-. Sorry, I just realized you’re Egg Waitress, and these are the eggs General Morn’s been eating…!”

Morn growled like a tiger, making the mages sweat and shrink back in fear. They promised to let the general know if they figured out anything interesting and scampered away.

“If there’s anything you want,” Morn started, following Po around the shops again. “Just let me know. I’ll buy it for you.”

He stopped to think. Po was used to spending hours or days contemplating every purchase, evaluating the item’s necessity, usefulness, and entertainment value against cheaper, shittier alternatives. He hadn’t been allowed to just walk into a shop and pick out something he liked since his teenage years.

Should he ask for something fun? Or practical? He was moving in with Morn—what did he need? Po glanced down at his belly. “Bigger shirts?”

They stopped at a clothing store, and Morn introduced his date to a whole rack of shirts that magically stretched all the way over the curve of his belly and down to his crotch, covering his skin completely. Po cried spilled milk again. He picked out ten, Morn paid, and Po wore one with blue flames out of the store.

“Chill out, Admiral,” somebody said. A demon man about half Morn’s height sat sprawled on the stairs, taking a swig from a bottle of whiskey. He wore a white general’s hat, cape, and pants—no shirt—and his huge horns curved forward and up like an upside-down version of Po’s. He stared at the little egg-laying demon, eyes narrowing. “If you’re pent up, the Lust Spa is two sets of stairs up to the left.”

“Not an Admiral,” Po sighed, crossing his arms over his belly.

“Shut up, Scimi,” Morn said, striding over to the other general. Then he frowned down at his boyfriend. “Wrath General Scimi Tar. Sorry everyone keeps heckling you, Po. I don’t know how you stand it.”

He shrugged. “Honestly, being mistaken for an admiral is more flattering than what usually happens. At least people here are like ‘oh, you have something weird and cool going on in your gut’ instead of ‘ew, a slut’.”

Scimi set the bottle down. “You do got something weird and cool going on in your gut. The longer I stare at your aura, the less I understand what the fuck I’m looking at.”

Morn gave him the usual explanation and asked, “What do you think it is?”

Scimi rubbed his strong chin. “Stockpiling curse that seals all his Hellfire in an egg every fifteen minutes?”

“I don’t have a Hellfire, and I lay about twelve every twenty minutes.”

“Fuck, that’s a lot of eggs,” he said, shrugging. “I’m stumped. Little Miss Wingstar could probably tell you.”

“We’ll see her tomorrow,” Morn said, and they moved on.

After climbing six stairs—not staircases, individual stairs—Po finally felt the fatigue setting in. “Alright, I think I’m ready to head to your apartment.”

Morn nodded. “Alright. Just clap twice and-”

“Po Learm?” someone asked.

Po jumped at his own name, holding his belly as he turned around. A big smile split his face like a lightning bolt. “Ging?!”

Sin Ging, the Sloth demon who saved his life, stood outside a seafood restaurant, waving. The old man had pale blue skin with dark blue circles under his narrow eyes, a wide smile, and a limp. He’d aged a bit, but was otherwise just as Po remembered.

About to rush over and hug him, Po startled when Morn put a heavy hand on his shoulder, growling. “Po, how do you know this vandal?”

What?

Ging chuckled. “Aw, you say that like I broke Nunch’s rearview mirror or something. All I did was draw The Navigator on his truck to guide him through the turbulent times ahead.”

Chapter Text

“That’s where I know the manta mermaid from,” Po said, fist to his palm like a judge’s gavel. “Ging had doodles of her all over his shack.”

“I’m not surprised,” Morn said, arms crossed, growling at the old fisherman. “He’s a manta cultist. Retired Sloth Captain Sin Ging used to come to Wrathgard once a month to sell fish and spread Navigator propaganda, but now that he owns this restaurant, he’s here all the time, and he’s been insufferable. How do you know him, Po?”

Po frowned up at the general. “He saved my life after I jumped off the Wrath City bridge and introduced me to Conquest while nursing me back to health.”

Morn froze, solid as a statue, as he took in the immense amount of information in that single sentence. His frustration melted away, replaced with worry as he bit his lip. “Fuck, Po, I-…I thought you fell…? When you-…I thought you meant more shenanigans with the squad…Shit. I have to admit that earns Ging an ocean of good will.”

“See? The Navigator knew you’d come around,” Ging chuckled, smiling up at him.

He groaned.

Po finally waddled over and hugged his old friend. “I can’t believe you run a restaurant in Wrathgard now! I’m gonna eat here all the time.”

“Looking forward to it,” Ging said, ruffling his hair. “I was wondering when Nunch would finally find you and bring you to where you were always meant to be. Where is the lad?”

Head tilted, he paused. “Nunch didn’t bring me here—Morn did.”

Ging stopped. He looked up at the general, confused. Then he burst out laughing. “Hah! That’s not the future I saw, but honestly, it’s brighter! Morn’s a better fit for you, and he needs you more than Nunch does.”

Po rubbed his aching back. “What do you mean? The future? You see the future?”

“Through The Navigator, yes, but there is no ‘the’ future, just endless rivers of time flowing ever onward into infinity. The fish swim through many currents, and sailing is no fun without a few rocks and reefs under the water, don’t you think?”

“I guess…?”

Ging spun him around and gently pushed him toward Morn. “You, Po Learm, YOU will be the artist to sculpt Morn Ingstar into the demon god he is meant to be.”

Morn kneeled, and Po stumbled into his arms.

Po smiled, blue cheek purple with blush. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” Morn said, gently slipping one hand behind his back and the other under his knees, lifting him. “Never thought I’d find myself agreeing with Sin Ging.”

Ging waved, returning to his restaurant. “You boys have a nice night.”

The general stood back to his full height. “Ready to go?”

Po nodded.

“You clap then, but say us instead of me, and it’s the twelfth floor.”

Two claps, and Po smiled. “Move Us To the twelfth floor!”

He plunged underwater, senses giving out again, but this time Po saw something besides the black and red void. It was Morn, but, for only a moment, his mortal body had been stripped away to reveal his soul soaring through the cosmos, made of deep blue stardust and iridescent nebulas.

When the world returned and the two had lungs again, they both gasped.

“Sorry if this is a weird compliment,” Morn said, staring at him with wonder. “But your soul is beautiful. Like not metaphorically; literally. Okay, well, it’s also metaphorically beautiful, but-…Fuck, I’m bad with words.”

“No, I saw what you mean,” Po said. “Your soul is beautiful too.”

Po looked around as Morn carried him down the long, wide hallway. The ancient tower was enormous, with the ceiling of just this floor more than fifty feet overhead, and the enchanted lights from endless hanging lanterns danced off the crimson stone walls. That said, the carpet was clean and modern, and the ancient ornate doors were polished to a shine and had camera doorbells made with future human tech beside them.

Morn’s room stood directly across the hall from Nunch’s. He simply walked up and nudged it open with his boot.

“No lock?” Po asked, wondering if no one ever broke in. Maybe there really weren’t demons who dared invade a general’s private chambers.

“Magic lock,” he said, carrying the smaller demon inside. He turned around and shut the door, then showed Po a screen embedded in the wall. After touching a few buttons on the touchscreen, he brought up a list of names, including Nunch Ucks, NOT Kat Ana, Thro Wingstar, Betty Bugaboo, Tigerc Law, Scimi Tar, and a few others. “The only people who can enter without me here to ‘unlock’ the door are the Maid Brigade, Medic Bay, Kitchen Service, Library Aid, and the demons on this list.”

Touching a green button, then an on-screen keyboard, he added Po Learm.

“And the admirals. Not because they have clearance, but because this thing can’t really stop a god.”

“Got it.”

If you adjusted for length vs width, the entryway was almost as big as Po’s entire apartment. Morn set him on the beautiful modern hardwood floor, and he admired the blue cushioned benches along one wall, and the closet full of shoes and coats to the right of the door.

“My room’s in here,” Morn said, heading left after he kicked off his cowboy boots. “Make yourself at home, because it’s your place now too. Kitchen’s on the left, and I’ve got a fancy machine that brews coffee and tea. There’s also milk—from cows, juice, soda, and white wine in the fridge.”

Slip-ins slipped off, Po followed him around the corner and his jaw dropped again. “Holy whoa! ‘Apartment’ my ass—you have a whole mansion in here!”

The general’s apartment might have been bigger than Po’s entire complex. His living room alone was larger than The Lusty Little Waitress, with a ceiling six times as tall, a wall of pitch-black panels in back, and a flatscreen TV that felt like a fucking movie theater on the right wall between two closed doors, surrounded by beautiful black couches and an area rug covered in silk cushions. The kitchen and dining room on the left were like an entire restaurant, with a compact library and reading area further left, and an open door between them that lead to a bathroom which, like the entryway, was larger than Po’s apartment. It was fucking cavernous. Not to mention the staircases on either side that led up to a goddamned second story loft with additional rooms.

Morn laughed at his shock, marching to the kitchen to put the takeout in the fridge and dig the milk and ice out from one of the big boxes to put them away as well. “I really don’t, but I get why it would feel that way when you’re less than half my height and lived in a shoebox until this evening.”

As Po ogled the place, Morn paced to that back wall, pressed his hand to a screen, and the black panels faded to reveal a full window wall with a breathtaking view of Wrath City and the war-torn lands beyond sparkling under the stars.

Heart skipping a beat, Po stumbled across the huge room to stare stupidly out the glass.

“Oh, something about the window,” Morn said. “You don’t have to worry about people looking in, because-”

“It’s enchanted to shine pure crimson light for anyone watching outside. I know. Morn, I was a fence-jumper. You don’t advance to the level of fence-jumper without first buying a fucking telescope and realizing you can’t spy through Wrathgard’s windows.”

He laughed again.

“Never thought I’d be on the other side,” Po said. “Now, to ruin the moment, can I use your bathroom?”

“You don’t have to ask me to use OUR bathrooms,” Morn said, gesturing to the big one beside the library.

Po paused, jaw unhinged again. “Bathrooms with an S?”

“Yeah. There’s a smaller one off the bedroom upstairs on the left, and a bigger one on the right, past the gym.”

“A bigger one?!”

Wheezing, Morn led him through the door left of the flatscreen, into his extensive home gym full of weights that would crush Po like a bug, also with a wall window view of the city, to the door in back of that. The window wall extended into the massive bathroom. Three sinks. A towering cabinet packed with towels, soaps, shampoos, conditioners, colognes, hair gels, and all kinds of other stuff. A glass walk-in shower that itself was bigger than Po’s apartment, and an empty hot tub the size of a swimming pool.

“Oh my fucking gods,” Po breathed, feeling like a dwarf in a giant’s spa.

“And the door in back leads to the sauna,” Morn said, pointing to the door right of the shower. “Don’t fall asleep in there. It has an enchantment that if you pass out inside, it assumes you got heatstroke and automatically summons a medic.”

Po nodded. “That’s probably for the better-.” He stopped as the eggs dropped. Shit, he was really full. Po moaned, legs trembling. He needed to lay. Now.

“Are you okay?” Morn asked, hovering over him.

“Bucket,” he choked.

“You don’t have to keep using that rusty old bucket. Unless you really want to. If it’s special, I’ll go get it, but wouldn’t you rather do it in the tub or something? It has waterproof cushions.”

Unsure, Po looked at the tub. “But I make a mess.”

“I don’t give a shit. Hell, I’ll upgrade my Maid Brigade subscription tomorrow morning.” Morn helped him stagger to the giant tub and lifted him in.

Po kneeled on the black cushion seat and rested his elbows on the flat edge of the tub. It was comfortable. Okay, he could do this here. Getting impatient, he unbuttoned his pants.

“You want me to leave?” Morn asked. “Or do you want help?”

He…didn’t know. Po had never been offered help with this before today. “If you mean ‘do I want privacy’, I don’t care? My body does this thrice an hour, Morn. I don’t want to be confined to the bathroom forty thousand times a day, and you’re gonna walk in on it at some point anyway, and so get used to it.”

He nodded, blushing. “That’s fine. I will.”

“That said, I’ll have to think about how you can help, because I’m not used to…having help,” he said, dropping his pants. “Go make me tea? I don’t know.”

Morn nodded and practically ran to the kitchen like that tea would save his boyfriend’s life. Po rolled his eyes.

Pants and underwear off, he tossed his cage aside and let the eggs come pouring out, then stripped his shirt and bra off and threw those on the clothing pile. Socks too, while he was at it. Completely nude, he pressed his belly against the backrest cushion, moaning and cursing as upwards of fifty or sixty eggs shot out like a frozen hose spewing endless ice chunks. He squeezed his balloony pecs and drenched the cushions in milk.

Lost in the pleasure, Po about had a heart attack when a steaming teacup on a small plate clacked onto the flat edge of the tub a few inches from his right elbow.

Right, he wasn’t in his shitty little bathroom filling his bucket while watching Conquest; he was in Morn Fucking Ingstar’s apartment, squirting milk and eggs in front of his hero like a combination cow and chicken.

Shame consumed him like a wildfire…until he noticed the straining tent in Morn’s jeans and was reminded this bothered the general in a GOOD way.

Morn grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet and wet it with warm water in the sink. He wiped the sweat off Po’s forehead, and the gentle gesture made him choke up.

“Sorry,” Morn said. “Are you in pain? I don’t think I have any painkillers on hand, ‘cause…masochist, but I can have a medic rush some up here.”

“No, no, I’m fine. I’m just…” Po tumbled the thoughts around his head, frowning over his shoulder at one of the tub drains. They were all clean enough to eat off of when he got in, and now the nearest one was piled with eggs. “Confused.”

“About what?” he asked, kneeling beside the bath.

Po stared at the general’s tent again. “So, I understand that you have an oviposition fetish.”

Morn frowned. “Something like that, yeah…?”

“What I don’t get is all this domestic shit.”

His crimson eyes dropped to stare at his socks. “Does it bother you? I can stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop, I want you to explain, because I don’t get it,” Po said, resting his cheek against his hand. “It feels wrong for a Wrath demon.”

He flinched.

“And I could understand it as overcompensating for a partner of another type, because you made it very clear you don’t understand them. But curse be damned, I’m a Wrath demon too. You can be rough with me, Morn.”

The general twiddled his thumbs. “…”

Po’s eyes narrowed. “Is domestic wholesomeness a fetish too?”

“No,” he said. “I mean, I don’t fucking know. Maybe? I-…That’s not why. I just-…” Morn buried his head in his hands again. “Agh! WORDS! Why am I so fucking bad with them?!”

“Think about it and try to explain tomorrow or something,” Po groaned.

Morn cleaned up the eggs and put them in a bin in the fridge, then decided to take a shower—and take care of his problem himself—in the medium bathroom, while Po drank his tea and got dressed. He slipped into white boxers and one of the stretchy white shirts Morn bought him earlier. It was strange wearing pajamas after years of sleeping naked. Except when he got ready for work in the morning, Po usually just kept his blinds closed and lounged around in his birthday suit.

He climbed up onto one of the black couches, which was an endeavor with how tall they were, and waited for Morn. The azure demon reappeared in a simple navy t-shirt and boxers, with a towel around his neck to catch the water from his dripping hair.

“Sorry, I didn’t have you in mind when I organized my apartment,” he said, carrying Po upstairs to his bedroom on the left second story loft. “That’s not sarcastic, I mean this is an actual problem.”

“We’ll see what Kat cooks up to make me more mobile and see if it’s still a problem then.” Po admired the pictures on his walls as Morn set him in bed. He had a huge collection of the Nunch Box at each other’s throats in sleek black frames. Tired, Po scooted across the navy sheets to the head of the fifteen-foot squared bed and laid his head on one of the poofy cyan pillows. “Last warning: I’m going to soak the bed with milk if you let me stay here.”

“There’s a waterproof lining underneath; you won’t ruin the mattress,” Morn said, slipping under the covers on the other side of the bed. He clapped twice. “Lights.”

The lights winked out, and they were alone with just the glow from the night sky beyond the window wall.

Po’s confidence began to wane in the darkness. Despite how strong and immediate their connection had been, he still felt a wall between him and Morn in the form of a few feet of distance across the mattress. He opened his mouth, intending to strike up a conversation, but the general was gently snoring, passed the fuck out within minutes. Fine. Tomorrow.

Po dreamed of Conquest. He dreamed he had one of those awesome flight capes, and he got to join the Nunch Box exploring the Crystal Caverns, his old morning star back in his hand, smashing sixty-thousand crystal dragons. A giant ghost fish attacked, and Po was thrown back. Morn Ingstar caught him, strong arms wrapping around the smaller demon and protecting him. Holding him close, pressed to his warm chest. Something hard rubbing against Po’s fat thigh…?

Uh. Po slowly came to, squinting into the dim light of daybreak. He tried to sit up and found himself barred by the strong arms he dreamed of. Yesterday hit him like a tidal wave again. He’d rolled over at some point, and Morn had unconsciously curled around him like the smaller demon was a teddy bear or a warm pillow, huffing Po’s aphrodisiac until his head filled with wet dreams and he started reflexively humping his boyfriend in his sleep.

You know what? Po wasn’t upset about the development. This guy was too fucking shy, and with Po’s curse and Morn’s fetish, sex felt inevitable. He lay there quietly, basking in Morn’s warmth and listening to him pant and moan, desperate to get off.

“…Mm…Egg Waitress…”

Alarmed, Po pursed his lips. The general talked in his sleep?

“Fuck…fuck…” Morn’s hot breath smoldered against Po’s hair. “I need…fill me…”

Shit, he really didn’t want to moan and wake him, but that was the hottest thing he’d ever heard, and Po felt his own orgasm coming on strong.

“Don’t wanna be…general…”

What?

The bigger demon shuddered and squeezed Po’s bloated belly with none of the gentleness he maintained while awake, and the pressure sent a quake of pleasure through Po’s body that had him writhing and crying out in ecstasy, squirting eggs and milk all over the already soaked mattress.

Morn snapped awake. He let Po go and practically threw himself backwards off the bed. Would’ve gone straight over the second story ledge if not for the wire railing. “Fuck! I’m so sorry!”

Po caught his breath and rolled over, giving him a thumbs up. “N-no. That was good.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Morn said, burying his head in his hands yet again. “It was completely inappropriate and wrong of me, and I’m sorry, and I’ll never do it again. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

A vein throbbed in Po’s forehead. He rolled across the mattress and got to his feet. Morn looked up, confused, as the smaller demon head-butted him between the eyes, giving him a nosebleed.

Chapter Text

Morn slumped against the wire railing, rubbing his bleeding nose. “No, I get it. You should be mad at-”

“Fuck you,” Po said, fists on his ample hips, glowering into the general’s crimson eyes at eye level. “What part of ‘I jack off to Conquest and every little thing about you’ did you not understand? I own a foot-long azure dildo.”

He flustered. “Well…”

“Was my consent somehow not blatant enough? If anything, YOU should be mad at ME for not thinking to remind you that the stuff I leak is a fucking sex cologne.”

“I don’t blame you,” he said, hands raised in surrender.

“Morn, I don’t want you to blame me—I want you to rail me,” Po said, getting back on the bed.

The general hesitated.

“It’ll fit,” Po reassured him, turning around and spreading his loose, dripping hole. “I’m an egg sac with legs, remember? Supernaturally elastic and always slick, and I don’t have delicate, twisty organs to damage.” His hands trembled. “Unless you lied to cheer me up, and this is disgusting.”

Taking a deep, shaky breath, he stared at Po’s hole a moment before looking into his eyes. “It feels…wrong? Not your hole. It feels wrong to…take advantage of you, I guess? I-…This is a curse. And it clearly causes you a lot of distress and discomfort. And I feel wrong thinking about how fucking hot you are because of something that causes you to suffer.”

The anger fizzled out of him, and he turned to sit back down. “Okay, that makes a little sense.” He scratched his chin. “But, ultimately…I don’t give a shit? Because suffering or not, I am like this, and I’m always going to be, and you finding it hot means I can sit naked in front of the man I love and not feel ugly.”

Morn crawled forward and rested his elbows on the bed. “You’re not ugly. I don’t even think I’d think so if I didn’t have a fetish.”

“Then why the hesitance?” he asked, gliding his fingers down the side of Morn’s beautiful face.

“It’s…complicated?” He leaned into the touch. “I’m bad with words, and I’m sorry. My feelings are complicated, and they’re not your fault, and I really don’t know how to explain.”

“Make an attempt.”

“Um…Fuck, I guess it probably has to do with how I grew up. But I don’t want to bore you with my entire life story.”

Po grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look up at the smaller demon’s smoldering golden eyes. “Morn, I would kill a man to hear your life story.”

Morn swallowed. “Well, uh…okay then?”

He carried Po downstairs to heat up last night’s takeout and talk…

Morn was born…somewhere. Somewhere red. Somewhere with crashing waterfalls and old stonework, but honestly the scraps of memory from his earliest days were torn and faded. He couldn’t remember his mother’s face, but she was definitely red, and he could never forget her long locks of pink hair with a strange green sheen to the tips, like watermelon. His clearest first memory was of happily pulling her hair, but he must not have held on tight enough, because he somehow found himself taken from her and dumped in one of Elder Demon Goddess Ambrellosh’s Wrath army camps.

His early memories of learning letters and roughhousing with the other Wrath demon kids were fuzzy, but he remembered the snow demon incident in perfect detail.

Little Morn Ingstar had been enjoying the season’s first snowfall, building a snow demon by himself out in the yard, with candy corn teeth and carrot horns. Then this asshat named Han D. Cannon, a blond, deep blue demon who would be, uh…‘important’ later, sprinted up to him, unprompted, and kicked his creation to slush chunks. He turned on Morn with a shit-eating grin and asked if he had a problem with this.

Morn didn’t understand how he did it at the time, but his rage manifested as a dark force that crushed Han to the ground, smothering his face in the snow until he screamed and cried and almost suffocated without the azure demon even needing to touch him.

He should’ve been punished. Morn should have—for taking it too far. But he wasn’t.

“The part-elf child’s inherited Hellfire is remarkable,” Captain Boo Merang had said, gushing to his commanding general. “Subjects bow to the sheer force of his presence. He has the will of a king!”

While Morn wasn’t sure about that, he did like how nobody messed with him after that. Although it made it hard to make friends, since everybody ran when he approached. He was bigger than them. They didn’t have powers like he did. So Morn played by himself in the corner.

“You’re promoting a seven-year-old to Lieutenant?” another captain asked. “Are you mad?”

Captain Merang, who had taken Morn under his wing, pat his prodigy on the shoulder and grinned. “You don’t win wars without being a little mad.”

Morn crossed his arms. “I’m almost as big as a Lieutenant, even though they’re at least twice my age, so it’s fine.”

One day, Morn had been training in the yard under Merang’s tutelage when another captain marched into the camp carrying a big kid hogtied and hanging from a spear he carried over his shoulder. They were the size of a teenager, but obviously much younger, like Morn was.

“The hell’s this?” Merang asked as he and his prodigy set their morning stars aside.

Sneering, the other captain sighed. “A mistake.”

The kid hissed. “Your FACE is a mistake!”

“Apparently the fucking mage we hired was asleep at the wheel when she appraised this one’s soul,” the captain said. “Because they put this Wrath demon in Envy City’s Boarding School For Jealous Youth by mistake. He broke into the girls’ dorm and burned all their clothes and makeup. They caught him meticulously loading all the babies into the compost bin in the yard.”

Tangerine eyes burning, the lanky, wavy black-haired kid with crimson skin, long pointy ears and two straight pointy white horns kicked and flailed in their binds. “I’m a Wrath boy! I’m an angry little Wrath demon boy and if you put me back with those losers I’ll fucking kill them!”

Merang laughed. “Alright, let him down and we’ll see just how angry he is.”

The other captain hesitantly untied the rope. “Be careful. He has an inherited Hellfire, and I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Morn Ingstar picked his morning star back up and smirked, facing the kid across the training yard. “Bet you’ve never seen anything like mine, either.”

He wasn’t worried.

Then the kid hunched his back, spine snapping at the vertebrae, limbs stretching grotesquely like a fucking skin-walker wearing a demon’s body as a wetsuit.

He was now worried.

For the first time in his life, Morn screamed like a little girl as the fucking creature dug all three rows of teeth into his neck.

Despite that, Morn DID win somewhere in the middle of crying and swinging his weapon with wild abandon while begging it to go away.

Merang absolutely beamed, grinning at them both as the kid transformed back and wiped the blood from his chin, kneeled in the dirt to recover from the beating Morn gave him. “Amazing! Another remarkable hellfire! You’ll join Morn Ingstar as my second prodigy.”

“Huh?!” Morn asked, still choking back tears. “I don’t wanna train with this thing!”

The kid surprised him by looking genuinely hurt. Not by the beating, because he shrugged that off, but by his words.

“Shush, Morn,” Merang said, patting him on the head. “This is your brother!”

He sniffled. “M-my brother?”

Merang showed his brother to the weapons storage and let him pick something out.

“I like these,” he said, swinging around a pair of nunchucks. “My name’s Nunch Ucks now.”

Nunch, like Morn, was also so much better than his peers that he was quickly promoted to lieutenant alongside his brother. Along with one other demon boy.

“Sorry I broke your snow demon,” Han D. Cannon said, looking warily up at Morn, who had grown so much faster than him. “I was young and dumb then.”

“It’s okay,” Morn said. “As mature ten-year-olds, let’s agree that the enemy of my enemy…is…is NOT my enemy.”

Han nodded.

Captain Boo Merang trained Morn, Nunch, and Han like they were his own children, and he became like a father to them. They even called him ‘dad’ sometimes, but he told them not to in front of the other captains.

Merang taught them everything they needed to know in a fight. Taught them how to hunt, how to cook the meat, and how to skin the monsters they hunted so their pelts were in good condition to use or sell to the Greed army. They ate together. Slept under the stars together. Sometimes they returned to the camp and helped out together, fixing things and helping train the younger recruits. It was a simple but good life.

So many things happened when Morn turned twelve. First, they promoted him to Captain. His commanding general had put it off as long as he could, saying Morn was too young, too immature, but the azure demon was polite as pie and beginning to overtake even the strong and experienced captains in combat training. They couldn’t deny him any longer. Nunch and Han tried to strangle him for leaving them behind of course, but they just weren’t as overwhelmingly gifted and couldn’t force the general’s hand.

Second, uh…Shit, Morn didn’t know how to explain this part. Nunch, he…told Morn and Han a secret. Well, more like three secrets. And that was important to the story, but they weren’t Morn’s secrets to tell. All Po needed to know was that Morn struggled for about a month to not let it affect his opinion of Nunch, and he eventually came to the steadfast conclusion that Nunch was his brother no matter what.

Han was…quiet, for the time being.

Third, they traveled to Wrath City for the first time. Morn bitched and moaned about all the bad things he’d heard about cities, how shitty and unclean they were, for the entire on-foot journey there, but when he saw the sparkling cityscape for the first time, it took his breath away.

Morn found he loved the big, sturdy buildings and the bustling streets. He always knew there were six other types of demons, but he could’ve counted his encounters with them on one hand until that day. He met a group of Greed demons playing a trading card game, and they gave him his own pack and taught him the rules. Some Gluttony demons blew Morn’s tiny mind with the revelation that there were way more types of food than roasted monster meat and woodland forage. He tried lasagna, sushi, and stick butter for the first time! Yes, Morn ate an entire stick of butter thinking it was a traditional meal; shut the fuck up. No, he didn’t still do it sometimes. Okay, he did, but, um, uh, just for, you know, nostalgia.

The highlight of his day was when a group of Lust girls their age gave Morn, Nunch, and Han heart candies and kisses on the cheek. Morn’s pointy ears burned, and he tripped over his stupid words.

Nunch melted in his seat, savoring the candies. “Okay, I admit girls are kinda cute. I wanna date a girl someday.”

Han leered sideways at him. “Me too.”

“Can’t we live in Wrath City instead?” Morn asked his mentor later.

Merang choked on his burrito, pounding the middle of his chest to get it out of the wrong pipe. “Guh…What about your training?”

He frowned. “Training got boring after a while. I like it here. There are a lot of nice people, and it’s peaceful.”

With a deep frown, he turned to face Morn on the park bench. “And that’s exactly why your training is so important.”

Morn didn’t get it and let him know as much.

“Our camp on the far northeast side is also pretty secluded, so I forgive you for forgetting our world is locked in a constant state of war. Elder Demon Ambrellosh and Elder Demon Hazaelia have been at each other’s throats since this world first grew from a tiny seed. And it’s not just them. Sure, the Hazaelian army is a major threat in the southwest, but there are also the humans in the south, and the elves in the southeast.”

Fist clenched, Morn simmered. “And they’re all EVIL.”

“No!” Boo Merang said, throwing his hands up in surrender. “They’re all just like us!”

He was so fucking confused.

Merang led him to the pond nearby and made him stare at his reflection in the water. “Look at yourself. You must’ve noticed most of the other Ambrelloshian kids around both the camp and the city are short and blue, with blue or gold eyes and straight horns.”

“And?” he asked.

“AND you’re tall with crimson eyes and curved horns. Why?”

“…”

His mentor pat him on the back. “It’s because you’re also a Hazaelian demon.”

Morn cringed at his own reflection, mortified.

“That’s not all,” Merang said. “You’ve got a bit of a different, broader shape to your body and face, which means you’re also a human.”

“Huh?” he asked, shocked.

Merang pulled the tips of his ears. “And these big honkin’ ears you’ve got? These are elf ears. Because you’re also an elf.”

Lip bit, Morn boiled with shame, trying to contain his disgust. No wonder he was so different from everyone else. No wonder the other kids pushed him away. He was something…other. Suddenly he felt wrong in his own body, like his bones were too long and his blood was contaminated.

The biggest grin split Merang’s face. “Ain’t you beautiful? You’re like all four races put down their weapons and danced around the bonfire together for a night.”

Tears overflowed Morn’s crimson eyes as he wailed openly in the middle of the park. He let his mentor comfort him until he calmed enough to talk. “If nobody’s evil, then why do we need warriors?”

“I’m not saying nobody’s evil, I’m saying none of the races or types are all bad. Remember when we went to that grocery store, and you saw all those apples? Gala, granny smith, honeycrisp, red delicious…There’s no type of apples that are all rotten. But there are rotten apples of every type. Evil’s much more sinister than the simplified armies of destruction so many imagine,” Merang said as a dark veil came over his eyes. “It hides.”

A shiver ran down his spine.

“Evil skins good alive and wears its face like a Halloween mask. It says ‘this other person is the real evil’, so nobody blinks when it cuts down an innocent person. It calls itself a friend and slowly bleeds your heart dry. And then it crawls into your empty heart and hides there too, and you don’t even realize it’s there. Hell, sometimes people do evil by accident, like taking in an abandoned fawn and realizing later it wasn’t really abandoned and now the mother deer is livid.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Morn said, staring into the water again.

Merang smiled. “We need good warriors like you because there are so many warriors out there with evil in their hearts, or who would do evil accidentally, and they all need to be stopped. How are you going to stop them if you don’t get stronger? What will you do if you live peacefully in Wrath City for a time, and then suddenly Tabbiramae shows up, wanting her volcano back?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Mount Tabbiramae,” he said, pointing up to the jagged mountain. “We demons stole it from the elves hundreds of years ago. We built Wrath City over their sacred forest and renamed their Dragon Rider’s Keep to Wrathgard, but the goddess’ name stayed. The Great Drake, Younger Holy Goddess Tabbiramae The Slave. Daughter of Elder Holy God Harkencastle, mother of dragons, she whose passion brings the strongest men to their knees. We’re living in her house, leeching off her energy. But except for a few admirals, all of us alive today in Wrath City didn’t help steal the place and didn’t ask to be born here. It’s our house too.”

Morn grit his teeth. “Why couldn’t we just live together?”

“Why should she have to shut her mouth and entertain the thieves who invited themselves in and started eating her porridge and sleeping in her bed without permission?” he asked. “Likewise, why should the innocent descendents of Wrath City have to give up their homes and their food and go live in the dirt just because somebody else used to live here before they were born?”

He didn’t know, so he couldn’t answer.

“And before you think too hard and come up with some random answer, let me ask…Even if there is an objectively right peaceful answer, how sure are you that everyone will come to and agree to that answer? Most people just say ‘the other person is encroaching on my peaceful life, and now they need to die’. When you’re forced to choose, do you want to be the killer, or the killed?”

It was a lot for Morn to think about.

Merang laughed and pat him on the back. “I’m sorry. You’re so tall, I forget that you’re twelve sometimes.”

A few weeks after returning to the camp to continue Morn, Nunch, and Han’s training, catastrophe struck. War horns sounded in the distance. Cavalry on horseback crawled over the distant mountain like a swarm of ants, and huge rocks rained from the sky, crushing many of the tents. The captains herded the young recruits and lieutenants, confused and crying, into the biggest tent, where the general cast a shield to protect it.

“Let me fight!” Morn shouted, raising his morning star. “This is what we’ve been training for!”

Han put his hand out in front of his brother. “You stay here, Nunch. I’ll protect you.”

Nunch’s fist shook. “Han, I will fucking skin you alive.”

“None of you are fighting,” Merang said, grabbing his own morning star. “You’re not ready. Let Dad handle this.”

And Dad ran out to the battlefield, a war cry on his lips, and proceeded to not handle it.

Chapter Text

The recruits and lieutenants stayed in the tent while the general and seventeen of the twenty captains rushed out to confront the attackers. Morn regretted not having disobeyed Merang’s orders, because the next people to open the tent curtain and march in to check on the kids…were the enemy soldiers.

Human men in shiny silver plate armor or gray leather armor, with swords or spears. Morn and the other two captains drew their weapons, but there was no way in hell the three of them were taking on the small army.

“Hang about, captains. We’re not here to hurt the children,” someone said, ducking into the tent.

Morn had been the tallest in their camp for a while now. Not the tallest child, but the tallest demon, period. So his jaw hit the floor as he found himself staring up, and up, and up at this fifteen-foot tall giant. His black and silver cloak turned his body to shadowy mist.

Some of the children, especially the younger ones, started screaming and crying.

“No no, no need to be afraid. Look—I’m one of you!” The giant pulled his hood down, revealing his demonic heritage, but he wasn’t quite one of them. He was a Hazaelian demon. Crimson-skinned, with curved horns that brushed the tent’s high ceiling. But he must not have been pure-blooded, because his short hair was striped pink and black, his ears were round, and his eyes were heterochromatic—left pink, right gray. He also had the same accent as the human soldiers.

The soldiers shuffled together behind him, blocking the tent’s only exit.

He introduced himself as Ryan, to a chorus of kids asking what kind of weapon a Ryan was, explained it was a human name, and entertained them by levitating strawberries. Kept a big bag of them tied to his belt and handed them out like candy.

Morn and the other captains calmed slightly, until one of the kids nearby whispered “human slavers,” and they saw the friendly giant and his soldiers for what they really were:

Evil wearing good’s face like a mask.

“We’re not going to harm any of you,” Ryan said. “We’re just going to have a look at you all, and a few lucky twelve-year-olds will get to come back to our camp and meet Prince Mollinacht. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

He signaled his soldiers, and they spread out to…inspect the merchandise.

“Maybe this one?”

“No, there are a few over here closer to what we’re looking for.”

“Honestly, this one isn’t pretty enough.”

One soldier pulled Nunch out of the crowd. “Have a look at this one.”

Another shook his head. “Too old.”

“He’s big, but I don’t think he’s that old.”

Ryan shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, because we’re not looking for a red one here, Jerry.”

“I know, m’lord, but there’s something about this one.” He gestured to Nunch’s furious face and drooping ears. “Look, he’s got elf ears.”

Han stomped between them. “Take me instead.”

The soldier frowned. “It’s definitely not you, lad.”

Morn joined them, glaring daggers at Ryan and his soldiers. “If you want Nunch, you’re going to have to go through Han and me first.”

“Stand down, Captain,” Ryan ordered. Then he blinked. “Hang about…You’re taller than the adults, so I thought you were one of them, but are you really? Or are you just a really big kid?”

Morn bit his lip, composure beginning to crumble.

The soldier pointed at Morn’s face now. “He’s got elf ears too. AND he’s blue with black hair.”

Nodding, the others agreed.

Ryan smiled. “Oh, yes, Prince Mollinacht needs a look at you.”

He didn’t want to meet the prince—Morn wanted his dad to come save him. Looking past Ryan, he peered out the gap in the tent curtain and saw another giant in a shadow cloak kick Merang to the ground.

Merang sat up, fury boiling on his blood-soaked face as he screamed. “You can’t have those kids! If you want them, you’ll have to pry them from my cold, dead-”

Heavy steel sword raised, the cloaked giant beheaded Morn’s adopted father.

The rest was fuzzy. Morn had a meltdown, screaming and unleashing the full blast of his kingly Hellfire on the crowd, staggering all the kids and soldiers together before fizzling out like a wet firework. But the kids were familiar with Morn, and thus able to pick themselves up faster and jump the soldiers while they were still recovering. Chaos erupted as the demon kids beat the fucking shit out of the humans and Ryan, led by Morn and Han, and backed up by Nunch going wild with his unique powers. Morn gave the order to run, and everybody stampeded past the rest of the human guards and out of the camp, over the mountain to the next nearest Ambrelloshian Wrath camp where they regrouped with the army.

After that day, Morn fully embraced his training. Doubled, no, tripled his efforts. He trained all day every day until his body gave out. Fought bigger and bigger monsters until there were no bigger challenges in the forest. Then he traveled with Nunch and Han to the coast to battle the abominations of Grenijn’s Void Ocean. They were so strong he actually didn’t overcome many, but Morn did defeat a Shallows Warden—a giant, black-tentacled beast of the coastal caves. He’d fought one offscreen on Conquest once. They cooked it up and ate it, and it made them really fucking sick, but Morn dried the tentacles and snacked on them periodically to build immunity. He wanted nothing to overcome him.

When they turned sixteen, Nunch and Han were finally both promoted to captain. Han received his own Hellfire—a stun effect he added to his bullets that paralyzed whoever he shot for a few minutes.

At seventeen, they saw real combat for the first time. Morn’s team got called to the front lines to defend Envy City from a full-on assault by the Hazaelian Wrath army. They were holding the line with little difficulty until the enemy changed tactics.

“Retreat!” one of the Ambrelloshian generals yelled. “It’s a Chalice Cheer!”

The older and wiser soldiers ran for their lives while the younger and dumber ones hesitated or defiantly stood their ground. Guess which group Morn, Nunch, and Han belonged to?

Morn gazed skyward and saw a woman flying over the enemy army. The dainty crimson demoness wore a frilly ballgown and carried a basket from which she was tossing lace doilies into the crowd below like confetti. She didn’t LOOK threatening, but the five four-pronged sapphire stars across her belt designated her as a Hazaelian Admiral.

As the Hazaelian soldiers caught her doilies, a terrible darkness came over them. Not metaphorically—their magic grew so monstrous in seconds that it scraped the light from the sky, blanketing them in shadows deeper and darker than even a shadow cloak. The battlefield went pitch-black, and all Morn could see were the glowing edges of their silhouettes, like thousands of iridescent solar eclipses, marching on the city.

Except for the death of his father, it was the scariest thing he’d ever lived through.

The Hazaelian army killed 2,731 Ambrelloshian soldiers, 368 civilians, and picked apart the giant castle that was Envy City’s boarding school like a gingerbread house. Ten minutes. They did all this in the span of ten minutes before the magic wore thin, the darkness receded, and the Hazaelian army limped away as they crashed hard from the overexertion.

After Morn dug his brothers out of the rubble, Nunch stumbled across the singed grass of the boarding school’s courtyard, gaping at the castle ruins. “How did…a handful of doilies do all this…?”

At eighteen years old, they were finally adults, and the brothers traveled to Wrathgard for the first time. Nunch and Han explored the village while Morn, having reached a point where he seemed to no longer grow stronger as he trained, scaled the tower to meet with Wrath General Scimi Tar, who was only five years older than him.

“You’ve grown scarily fast,” Scimi said, lounging in his office chair with his boots up on the desk. “Even faster than I did.”

Morn frowned. “Yeah, I’m aware I’m almost eleven feet tall, and it’s terrifying. Thanks.”

“Not your height, Moron Ingstar. You’ve mastered your Hellfire and reached the Captain’s Plateau. There’s nowhere higher for you to climb except up the General’s Slope.”

Morn told his brothers goodbye in case he never saw them again and set out up the slopes of Mount Tabbiramae. He reached the peak by night and descended the stairs into the volcano crater, down to the ruins of the abandoned Elven city, Magma Punk.

His Hazaelian blood granted him some heat resistance, but it was still hot as he entered the burning halls and fought the ignis dragons until both sides tired. The dragons snorted in respect for his strength and let him pass deeper into the mountain.

In the scorched throne room, Morn found the altar to Tabbiramae, an obsidian fountain ever flowing with the rainbow light of the cosmos.

“I’m sorry we stole your house,” he said to The Slave, bowing at the fountain. Then he cupped his hands and swallowed a mouthful of the cosmic rainbow.

Morn meditated in the burning halls for three weeks until, on Tabbiramae Day, the great volcano erupted, and he felt Hell’s Hail for the first time. Ambrellosh’s great cosmic snowstorm. His body and soul split at the seams. He became a shadow, glowing rainbow at the edges, like the Chalice Cheerers, but this was a gift he’d be able to call on at will instead of a short-lived blessing. This is what made one a General.

Although Morn’s Hail was a little weird. Kinda watery and slushy, not like the hard ice chunks Scimi and the others had, and he got made fun of for it later. He didn’t like to talk about it. No, Morn wouldn’t do it for Po right now. Sh-shut up.

After he returned alive, and after Nunch and Han nearly strangled him for leaving them in the dust, the brothers packed their new camping gear and trecked out to the forest to celebrate and sleep under the stars like the good old days. They roasted monster meat and reminisced about their dad. They talked about the future, and how Nunch and Han would catch up to Morn in no time.

Since Morn was so huge, he was still hungry after they’d picked the monster carcass clean, so he decided to go fishing. He waved goodbye to his brothers and jogged a couple miles down to the river.

He spent about ten minutes wading around trying to bludgeon fish with his morning star when he decided; you know what, fuck it. The trial took a lot out of him, and he was tired. He’d go back and borrow Nunch’s fishing pole and catch them the easy way.

Morn jogged back to camp, and…

Shit, okay, this part was going to sound really disappointing from a storytelling perspective, but…Again, this wasn’t Morn’s secret to share. Fucking shit, he’d have to imply something for it to make any sense, because his story was so intertwined with his brother’s, but he wouldn’t go into detail.

Morn walked into camp and realized Han had…used his paralysis bullet.

Han noticed him quickly, quitting what he was doing and turning around with a fearful smile. His blond hair was matted with sweat. “Wh-why are you back so-…? It’s, uh, not what it looks like, Morn.”

Merang’s words echoed through his mind. Evil wearing good’s face. Calls itself a friend and bleeds your heart dry.

“Come on. I…thought if (Nunch) just gave me a chance, (he’d) change (his) mind.”

Morn smashed Han’s skull in.

The general carried his only brother back to Wrathgard. By the right of his rank, he demanded the best room in the tower they’d let him have and set Nunch up to live there. Morn tried to convince him not to give up, but Nunch was done. He didn’t want to endure another attack like Envy City, and had something else to do anyway, so he retired as a captain.

Morn…went back to training. He quadrupled, quintupled, sextupled his efforts. General wasn’t good enough. There was so much he still couldn’t do. So much evil in the world to be stopped. He needed to Ascend and stand at the gods’ side as one of Ambrellosh’s Champions.

He trained in Magma Punk with the dragons when he visited his brother and-…only his brother. Then he trained in the Void Ocean when he traveled, battling bigger and bigger horrors of the deep with his Hail-charged Hellfire until he found, again, that he could grow no stronger.

“You’ve hit the peak,” Scimi said, shrugging. “There’s nowhere higher to climb. Fuck, all you can do now is…grow wings.”

At twenty-one, Morn made for the mountain range in the high north, where the air grew razor thin and cold enough to freeze a beard of icicles around his chin. Ambrelloshian cold resistance or a cold-resistant Hellfire were the only ways to survive such a frigid environment, and he wasn’t surprised to find the great ice city of Snow Gladius bustling with nothing but blue demons.

He requested a turn in court and meditated under one of the great icy waterfalls until the day came. With his white general’s uniform pristinely cleaned and pressed, Morn wore his four ruby five-pronged stars with pride as the guards led him into the Glass Castle’s throne room where he kneeled and bowed before The Great Gladius, Elder Demon Goddess Ambrellosh The Clear Sky. Mother of Azure Demons, First Father of The Navigator, and she who clipped The Great Owl’s wings.

“Thank you for seeing me, my goddess,” Morn said, daring to raise his head. Yeah, Morn wasn’t sure he had any chance of properly describing her beauty for Po. Like it wasn’t just that she was beautiful or hot, this was a Greater Goddess.

“Of course, General. I can see you’ve a question in your soul.” Ambrellosh’s skin wasn’t just white, it was flawless pearly white beach sand. Not metaphorically. It darkened and clumped together where she sat in her translucent red plastic pool and dried out higher up her torso and arms, crumbling in little streams back into the water. “Tell me; who the hell are you to stand in my court?”

He swallowed, forcing his nerves back. “W-Wrath General Morn Ingstar, mam. I’ve come to…ask for promotion to the Admiral rank.”

Her long bright locks of sunlight made it difficult to look into the clear blue skies of her eyes without going blind, but Morn forced himself to watch them cloud over with puffs of white vapor. “Absolutely the fuck not.”

Morn’s composure shattered like a cheap wine glass. He fell to both knees, sweating and stammering in the middle of the throne room. “I, b-but, you, but I…H-have I done something t-to displease you, my goddess? Did I not train hard enough? Should I fight more Void Ocean beasts? I-is this because m-my Hail is slush, or because I’m not a pure Ambrelloshian, or because I murdered Han, or…?”

Ambrellosh snorted. “Calm your tits, Mr. Ingstar.”

He tried, but Morn’s tits would not calm.

“This is always so difficult to explain to mortals. Especially dense but determined warriors like you.”

Shame burned his ears.

“Recruit, Lieutenant, Captain, General…They have a linear progression based on strength, skill, and endurance. You learn to fight, prove your resilience, master your gifted magic, and push it to the next level. You weather a storm and come out stronger when the sun rises on the other side. It’s a simple and reliable system, and it creates so many interesting stories and souls. It’s so cathartic to watch a mortal struggle and claw their way up the mountain, earning their place at the peak. You have done this admirably. Morn Ingstar, you are an exemplary General, and it pleases me greatly to count your kind, strong soul among my many demons.”

Morn remembered his journey, heartened by her praise. “Th-thank you, my goddess.”

“But the Admiral rank doesn’t work this way,” she said, musing about it as she shifted to the other side of her pool, crossing her legs over the edge and spilling water everywhere. It froze instantly on the floor. “How do I put it? You’re a chess grandmaster, Mr. Ingstar, and that’s worthy of great praise…but we’re over here playing checkers, hockey, horse, both kinds of football, darts, a hundred and seventy different simulator games for PC, and ‘pull my finger’ all at the same time. And stopping at a food truck to eat tacos and throw lettuce at each other. Your soul is valuable, General, but I don’t think it’s ready for the lettuce.”

He was so fucking confused.

Ambrellosh snapped her fingers, and a portal swirled to life beside Morn. Without looking where he was going, Nunch, in a casual orange t-shirt and black shorts, stumbled out of it, confused, yelping as he slipped on the ice and fell on his ass.

“Nunch?” Morn asked, stupefied.

“Fuck!” He sat up. “Morn?!” Then he shivered violently and hugged himself as he Borrowed Morn’s skin, turning azure. “Shit, it’s freezing!” Then he looked up at the Greater Goddess, and his eyes widened like dinner plates. “Oh my goddess! …OH. MY GODDESS. OH GOD-”

Laughing, she waited patiently for him to collect his senses and get a hold of the situation.

“Oh, am I here to vouch for Morn?” Nunch asked, staggering to his feet and struggling to keep his balance on the slippery floor. “B-because I will. Morn Ingstar is the best damn general in the army, and he deserves Lesser Godhood—in my uneducated mortal opinion, my goddess, sorry if I’m being rude, I’ve never been to, like, an actual royal court…”

“It’s fine,” she said. “What I want to know is, who the hell are you to vouch for him?”

His brother straightened up and saluted. “Retired Wrath Captain Nunch Ucks, your goddessness.”

Ambrellosh leaned forward from her pool and stared down at the man a fourth of her size with the clear blue skies in her sockets. “Are you SURE about that?”

Nunch stopped breathing. He broke out in a cold sweat, staring at the icy floor as the weight of his life bore down on his shoulders. Then he forced himself to squint through the sunlight, speaking in a tiny voice. “Y-…Yes? Yes.”

Satisfied, she leaned back. “Good. Well, Mr. Wrath Captain Nunch Ucks, if you’re interested,” the goddess said, holding out her hand for him. “I’ll Ascend you.”

Chapter Text

Morn and Nunch stepped out of the portal to the twelfth floor of Wrathgard.

“Ey, we didn’t have to walk home through the tundra,” Nunch said, smiling casually as he returned to his regular crimson hue and led his brother to his apartment.

“…”

He opened the door. “What a nice beach.”

Morn dragged himself inside and slumped against the wall next to Nunch’s TV. His fancy white general’s uniform was rumpled and soaked in sweat and tears. He asked in the highest, tiniest voice, “What did you mean, no…?”

“Snow?” he asked, trotting to the kitchen to make them tea. “I was there for like an hour and already got sick of that shit.”

“Well, you just, you said, but she, but you, and you told her no, why would you do that…?”

Nunch sighed. “You kidding? I’m not built for godhood.”

“Mm, well, she disagreed…”

He huffed, leaning against the counter. “I didn’t need it. Morn, I’m perfectly content living a normal mortal life. I’m content with my (secret), my roommate Kat who helps around the place, my best friend Thro who’s been teaching my dumb ass how to use modern technology, and my internet show. Bro, I don’t need anything else—except for you not to worry so much.”

Morn fell over and curled up in the fetal position. “Can’t believe you told her no…”

His brother smirked. “Yeah, but I got to (secret) her.”

No, Morn didn’t just censor ‘fuck’! Nunch…did a magic thing that wasn’t Morn’s to talk about, okay?

The disgraced general grit his teeth. “And that in any way compares to godhood?”

“Kind of,” he said, shrugging. “It does, actually, without the fucking burden. Assuming I can use it, which I might not be able to. Oh well. A (secret) can dream.”

Morn sucked his snot back in. “What did she mean when she said I use my Hellfire ‘like hammering nails with a rice cooker’…?”

Nunch shrugged.

“What did she mean when she said I ‘don’t even know who I AM’…?” He sobbed. “Is it because I’m a Hazaelian, and an elf, and a human?”

“Nah. Can’t be a biological thing, because I know just as much about our origins as you do. Which is to say jack shit. Hell, I don’t even know if we’re real biological brothers. There’s more than one demon-fucking elf in the world, my guy.”

They had Wrathgard’s head doctor run a DNA test, and the brothers were, in fact, brothers. Fraternal siblings, actually—they popped out of the same womb on the same day, were split up by mistake, and reunited. The doctor wasn’t sure which was older, but they already told everyone Morn was, so they stuck to that.

“Your father must’ve been a pure Ambrelloshian demon,” she said, in response to Morn’s description of their mother. “So then your mother was more human than not. Maybe the child of a half-elf, and a human-Hazaelian mix? I think the last full elf in your family line was your great-grandmother or something.”

It cheered Morn up a lot to know that, but not enough to pull him out of depression. He wanted to be on hand to help Nunch if he needed it, but not have to share an apartment with him so he could cry by himself, so he moved in across the hall.

Morn liked his new apartment more anyway, because Nunch’s window wall faced the glowing rocky crags and lush greenery of Mount Tabbiramae, which was beautiful in its own right, but Morn’s window wall faced the sparkling cityscape below. He had a breathtaking view of the place he’d always wanted to live, which he stared at all day every day as he lay in bed eating tubs of ice cream, boxes of stick butter, and fast food. The tower staff never criticized him when they brought his room service and took away his trash, but he hid under the covers anyway.

“Alright, I’m sorry our goddess roasted you like a s’more, and I’m sorry I was part of it, but your pity party is over,” Nunch said, literally kicking him out of bed. “I’m not gonna stand here and watch my brother waste away. Get up. We’re going to walk the volcano trail. Every day.”

And Po obviously knew this story. Morn promised he would and cleaned himself up for it, and quickly realized it was a fucking excuse for Nunch Ucks, his head-butting goat of a roommate Kat Ana, and his scholarly best friend Thro to beg, whine, beat, and threaten him to join Conquest Of The Otherworlds. Every day. For forty fucking days straight.

He eventually caved and agreed to one show. ONE. He packed a bag, dragged himself out of bed and into a decent black tunic and hiking shorts, joined them marching through the portal, and…loved every second. He hadn’t shown it during the stream, but his immediate scrubbing out of the line he’d so sternly drawn in the sand spoke for itself.

Like any Conquest fan, Po knew that part…but nobody UNTIL Po knew what had happened after.

“Fine, it wasn’t so bad,” Morn admitted, unwrapping his burger as they all sat around Nunch’s table for dinner. “It was nice seeing a new land, and I felt a little useful again. And you’re a dumb bitch, Kat, but…I guess you’re not insufferable.”

“Thanks, fuckass, I tolerated you too,” she chuckled, chewing on a frenchfry. “But seriously, the exercise will be good for you. You’re clearly not getting enough walking the volcano trail. Gotta ditch this beer belly somehow.”

“Huh?”

Then Kat reached under the table, under his tunic, gave the jiggly paunch he hadn’t realized he’d developed a squeeze with her soft fingers, and it sent shockwaves straight to his cock.

Obviously they noticed his embarrassment as his ears burned, and they all made fun of him for that, but like…none of them realized she’d made him HARD. Why did that make him hard? What the hell was wrong with him?

Sure, Lust was very much not his element, but Morn wasn’t a virgin. Scimi’d convinced him a few times to relieve some of his stress at Wrathgard’s Lust Spa.

As one of the biggest, meanest, most powerful Wrath demons they’d ever seen, the women flocked to him. Instant harem. The massages they gave were pretty damn good. Felt nice on his aching muscles. Their sauna was comparable to the one he had at home, albeit bigger, but the company was nice.

But the girls were fucking insufferable during sex.

“General Morn, your dick is so big.”

“Fuck me, General. I need you inside!”

“Oh, General Morn, your muscles are so sexy.”

“Dominate me, General Morn!”

OoOooOOOoooo, General Morn.~ Destroy me with your giant scary penis, General Morn! I need you to crush me like a bug, General Morn, because you’re a buff, powerful king, General Morn! GENERAL MORN! AAAAA-

Fuck you. How about ‘Bend over, Morn, you fat slut; this pussy isn’t gonna lick itself.’

Morn seriously debated laying off the exercise, packing on the burgers and butter, and ruining his body. He wasn’t fit to become a Wrath Admiral anyway, and that dashed his dreams of living up to Merang’s expectations. His physical training had apparently been a giant waste of his life.

As both an addition and counterpoint, Morn realized later that Hellfires were what really mattered at his level, and Pressure wouldn’t deteriorate with his waistline. Not to mention Gluttony Generals and Admirals got away with being morbidly obese beasts. Hell, magic was so powerful that tiny, frail girls with masterful Hellfires could overpower even the biggest, buffest men tenfold.

Bodies didn’t matter to gods and monsters; souls did. Bodies were flimsy at their strongest, changing and malleable; souls weren’t. At least not as much so as flesh. That was probably what The Clear Sky tried to tell him.

And Ambrellosh said Morn fucking sucked at magic, so he was really just a weak-ass little bitch hiding behind his muscles. Maybe he’d learn better if he couldn’t rely on anything else.

But…he chickened out. Couldn’t force himself to eat into obesity. Plus, he loved Conquest, and adventuring was a hell of a workout, so he lost that beer belly without even trying.

Still, Morn occasionally fantasized about Kat making him stuff himself and fat-shaming him, but he didn’t have the guts to say anything to her.

Then, one night at dinner, she let slip that she was only into girls.

And Morn, uh…Morn went to the store. He bought a glittery black cocktail dress. And makeup. And he tried them on at home and stared at himself in the mirror for three hours trying to be okay with this and couldn’t do it—no he didn’t still have the dress. Okay, he did, stuffed somewhere in the back of his closet, but shut the fuck up.

All he told Kat was that he accepted her for who she was and would fucking kill anyone who had a problem with her. She appreciated that, and they built a stronger friendship because of it, but that meant Morn had nowhere to channel his thoughts.

So Morn stopped thinking. Gave up and lost himself in Conquest. Fought armies, cultists, and monsters all across the otherworlds, consumed again by war and weaponry, but slowly trying to expand his horizons.

He started learning new weapons, like brass knuckles, a crossbow, and his friends’ namesakes—nunchucks, a katana, throwing stars, and a scimitar. He ended up preferring an oversized greatsword, even more than his own morning star namesake.

Yes, Scimi was also a close friend—he just wasn’t much for the spotlight and preferred not to join Conquest. He watched though. In fact, although Nunch had made sure Morn understood on a technical level what it meant to be on live camera before the first show, Morn had a difficult time really understanding that people were watching him until Scimi complimented him on a fight he hadn’t been there in person to witness.

It honestly scared the shit out of Morn. And Nunch showed him the fan letters, the stream chat, the forums, and the fucking fanfiction and fanart, and Morn quickly decided he didn’t want to keep up with them, because, fuck, they made him so nervous.

Bug was one thing. He was comfortable with Bug following them around like a baby duckling, giving him encouraging smiles and hand signals, but he preferred not to think too hard about what was going on in the glass lens box she always carried on her shoulder.

Oh, Betty Bugaboo’s their camerawoman. Po would meet her Monday if not before. Real nice lady.

Anyway, despite doing his best not to let the nerves get to him, Morn…let the nerves get to him. Tried to clean himself up better so the fans would perceive him as more respectable. He wanted to strike people as more of a civilized demon man, rather than some monster that crawled in off the battlefield, so he started dressing nicer and using scented soaps and colognes.

On the other hand, he kept having this urge to ruin his own body…There was only so long he could ignore it.

One day, Thro taught him a little about Magma Punk.

“Tabbiramae’s dragon riders had many rituals,” she explained. “They were particularly fond of adding metal to their bodies. Riders traditionally received piercings to show their rank. Yes, the metal burned in the volcanic heat, and yes, that was part of the ritual.”

Morn asked for more details and got his own piercings based on how many they thought he’d have received if he’d been born in their era and joined their order.

He expected to be judged, and there were a few people who did, but all his friends and most of his fans just thought he looked even cooler and more badass than he had before. So it was a simultaneous loss and win, he supposed. Well, Morn liked his piercings anyway.

Uh…What else could Morn talk about to stall the next part that really made him nervous?

Did Po remember the Shallows Warden? …Oh, the Shallows Warden episode was Po’s favorite and most hated stream, and he’d edited it down himself and saved it on his laptop? Um, uh, well, shit, okay. Morn guessed he understood why.

Morn thought he should bring it up because it’d be semi-important later…

Shit, he guessed he had to talk about the fortune teller now.

Tristany was a human gladius cultist who saw the future through The Clear Sky. Her ability let her see the past and future of families specifically, so she focused far more on the Lust army than the Wrath army. Well, she came to advise the Lust Spa, and Morn and Nunch knew they needed to see her. Nunch propositioned her to be on the show, but she refused, only agreeing to read their fortunes in private. That suited Morn more anyway.

“Two brothers…from a litter of nine,” she said, weaving her magic into the crystal ball, and Morn saw his mother’s face clearly for the first time.

The crimson demoness with pointy elf ears, emerald eyes, and long pink hair with a green sheen at the tips like watermelon sat in a luxurious bed surrounded by nine red and blue demon babies. There were too many for her arms to hold. She looked exhausted, but so overcome with joy.

Others gathered around to help care for them, but they blurred at the edges of the crystal ball. Morn lost count of how many there were. Their family was huge.

The image faded away. Morn and Nunch complained.

“Strange,” Tristany said, brow knit with concern. “A god’s hand has blocked my vision. For better or worse, one of the demonic or divine does not want seers staring at your mother.”

Morn grit his teeth, frustrated by whichever god wouldn’t let him see his own damn mom. He needed to know where she was. If she was okay. Whether she was alive.

Nunch leaned back in his chair. “Still way more than I ever expected to see of the fam. Nonuplets? We have seven other brothers and sisters out there somewhere? That’s crazy.”

After more discussion, Tristany reminded them, “I can peer into your futures as well. Glimpse at your own children you will have someday.”

Nunch shook his head. “Nah. I (have a big fucking secret that Morn needs to stop implicating, that bastard).”

“I see,” she said with a bright smile. “And you, General Morn Ingstar?”

Morn shook his head. “Honestly? Pretty sure I’m going to die alone.”

Nunch sighed.

Tristany held her hands out toward the crystal ball again. It shone blue, with white clouds swirling at the edges. “It’s true I see many blank paths. However, this doesn’t mean you don’t live a happy, fulfilling life along these paths.” She gazed harder. “I see many failed marriages. You have a hard time loving, it seems.”

Felt like she smashed his heart with a mallet.

“But there are many swords in the armory. Ah! I see it! A sturdy future. A love that overcomes.”

Morn’s heart suddenly recovered, thundering in his chest.

A figure emerged from the mist in the crystal ball. For just a moment, they saw a crimson arm covering round breasts over a mottled hot and cold pregnant belly, and then the crystal ball blinked out, turning black.

Tristany jumped. “Seems another god doesn’t want seers staring at your wife and unborn child.”

Morn yelled in frustration and rolled around on the ground. Later, he took his frustrations out on an entire hive of man-eating bees in an Otherworld. Nunch was so disturbed after Morn killed them all and demanded more opponents that he Borrowed Han’s paralysis to drag his brother back to Wrathgard and throw a party with Kat, Thro, Bug, and Scimi to celebrate Morn’s future wife and son and/or daughter while Morn furiously drooled on the couch.

Yeah, obviously in retrospect it was Po he saw in the crystal ball, but Morn couldn’t have known that at the time. They saw boobs and belly, and they assumed pregnant demoness.

Morn asked if it was okay to keep referring to the image of his ‘future wife’ with female pronouns because that’s what he thought at the time, and it was easier not to trip over them constantly. She wasn’t really Po, she was something Morn made up in his head from a brief flash of an image.

Po said he didn’t care, but what fucking god didn’t want Morn to see him? Shit, Morn didn’t know. Not then, not now.

Well, Morn septupled, octupled, nonupled his efforts to get stronger for his future family. Beefed up his home gym and spent all morning and night whipping himself into shape. Uh, he was already in good shape, but he needed to be in EVEN BETTER shape. He needed to be in the best shape possible.

Po noticed the others growing concerned about what a workaholic Morn was becoming on the show, so he didn’t feel much need to recount every detail.

Morn pulled Thro aside and asked, “Not sure how much progress I’m making on changing Ambrellosh’s mind, or if she ever will. Is there...another way to Ascend?”

“Yes,” she said.

The Devil’s Chalice.

A single drop for each soldier made an army unstoppable for a brief battle, hence the dread of a Chalice Cheer. But if a single person gorged themself on the gods’ nectar, it would bloat and twist their soul over time, eventually warping them into a Lesser God.

It sounded like a horrifying and painful process, but Morn was ready for any challenge. He doubled down on snacking on poisons to build immunity and a tolerance for internal agony.

When Kat tried to eat one of those crystal dragons like rock candy and threw up her entire stomach, Morn knew he had to try some. He snacked on the crystals, easily ignoring the rumbling in his guts. They weren’t enough.

And then his ankle-biting rival sidled up to him with the most evil, conniving grin he’d ever seen on her stupid face. “So, Morn, you like things that scrape your guts, huh?”

Chapter Text

Freshly showered, Morn threw on a black tank top with a horned demon skull design, ripped skinny jeans, and a spiked belt. He wanted to look menacing. Remind Kat she thought she could challenge a Wrath General.

He was refining his casual but intimidating pose on the couch with his arms draped over the back and one boot up on his knee when Kat knocked and let herself in. The pale pink demoness poked in from the entryway, carrying three large black paper bags, carmine eyes wild with devious intent.

Morn frowned. “You said bag. As in one.”

“Aw, baby can’t handle three bags?” she asked, stalking toward him.

He knew it was an excuse for going overboard and buying more than intended, but he wasn’t backing down. “I can handle whatever you throw at me. Bring it on.”

“Alright, get your guts ready,” she said, upending the bags and dumping everything in the middle of his area rug. “Enjoy your food.”

…Morn’s brain needed a minute to process what he was looking at. As much as he hated to give a single inch in any kind of fight with Kat, this wiped the confident smirk right off his face. “What…the fuck…This isn’t food. This-…”

“Sure it is. If you squint.”

Blood rushed to Morn’s face. He’d never seen anything like these, but it started to dawn on him what they were for.

“First, your appetizers: mouthwatering donuts,” she said, gesturing to the assorted rings and artificial orifices. “Then the main course: meaty, filling sausages!” She pointed to the boxed c-cocks and…prostate massagers? “Also got you a side of scrambled eggs.” Four tubes of something called ‘oviposition pleasure eggs’, whatever the fuck that was. “And make sure to sip the flavored drinks frequently to wash it all down.” A pile of pump bottles and packets of…anal lube?!

Morn opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a strangled noise.

Kat laughed. “Hah! I was right, wasn’t I? Oh, the bi and pan Lust Spa girls worry about you sometimes with how unfathomably boring you are in bed. You don’t play with yourself AT ALL, do you?”

He looked up at her. Then down at the ‘food’ and back up again. “Play…with m-myself…? Why…?”

“What do you mean, WHY?” she asked, looking at him with pity.

Morn’s shock melted away into rage. He grabbed a box featuring a cyan silicone cock and shook it in front of her. “What the hell do you even expect me to do with some of this shit?! I’m male, Kat—I don’t have a hole for this!”

It was like his shock transferred and slapped her upside the head. Then she buckled, choking on her own laughter. “WHATDOYOUMEAN YOU DON’T HAVE A HHHHH-?!”

Okay, he thought about it for an extra moment and remembered what ‘anal’ meant. Realizing that may have been the most confidently incorrect thing he’d ever said, he dropped the dick and buried his face in his hands.

Kat needed a few minutes to put herself back together after that one. “Anyway, this is what I meant when I said ‘sample, not finish’ and that we could work out the details later. Like I know you don’t have the stamina to finish with every single one of these unless you want to draw it out for like a week. Or more.”

He didn’t want to admit she was right, and if they were talking about regular stamina, he’d have put her challenge to shame, but he’d only ever…y’know, ‘finished’ twice in one sitting. Or even one full day. And that had felt like a lot.

She walked around the area rug and pat him on the arm. “You win the challenge if you can confidently tell me you took each product and made a sincere effort to enjoy it. Sound alright?”

Morn looked up at her like he looked at The Clear Sky when she roasted him. “Why would you do this to me?”

“Because you need to relax, big guy, or you’re going to break yourself,” she said. “And if you really don’t give a shit about yourself, think about your future wife. You wanna still be boring in bed when you’re lying with the woman who matters?”

Dread bloomed in his heart, and he shook his head. No, Morn didn’t want to treat his wife like the Lust Spa girls.

“Good. Then enjoy your food. Seriously, be generous with the lube.” With that, she turned and left. Then poked back in. “Oh, and I wanna know how that one specific tube of eggs goes. I fucking wheezed for three minutes straight in the middle of the aisle when I read the label. Cashier probably thought I was insane. Anyway, I’m out. Peace.” She slipped away and left for real. He heard the door slam behind her.

Morn slumped to the floor and just stared at all the sex stuff for a few minutes. Then he stalled by meticulously sorting them by type and size, but he didn’t want to put this off and wallow in his anxiety all night.

How was he supposed to do this? If he rushed, he’d quickly run himself dry and rub his dick too sensitive to continue. That’d be no good. Fuck, why was there a strategy to this?

Okay, the plan was to double up as many things as he could in each round. He’d use an orifice at the tip, a ring at the base, a massager in the back, and a generous helping of lube to make them slide on and in easier. Yes, that was optimal.

Wait, what was he supposed to do with the eggs? Morn wasn’t even sure what they were, so he picked up the tall green tube and read the label. These were ‘Froggish Eggs’; little green gel beads with a sour apple flavoring. He was supposed to swallow the whole tube with water—without chewing—and they’d apparently double in size inside him, sit there for ten minutes, and then coat his intestines in a tingly pleasureful ooze as he shit them out.

Well, that sounded weird and stupid, but not difficult. The problem was the size of the tube and the total volume in ounces the label said they’d swell to. These were made for skinny little Ambrelloshian intestines, not Morn’s massive Hazaelian digestive tract, and he didn’t want to bore himself drawing things out more than he already had to.

Fuck it, he’d just down all four tubes together.

Present-day Morn snorted at Po’s exasperated “OH NO.”

Past Morn hummed as he took the tubes to the sink and poured himself a tall glass of water. He popped the lids off the tall green tube, the fat red tube, the flared blue tube, and the little clear tube with a black and pink label, bundled them together in both hands, and knocked them back like shot glasses at the bar. The general had swallowed so many horrid, poisonous things that he had no trouble suppressing his gag reflex now, and he felt the four kinds of eggs trickle together down his throat. Sour apple gel eggs, slippery cherry eggs, tangy blue raspberry eggs, and three hard-shelled eggs with a strong cinnamon kick. Delicious. Unlike all the poisons he swallowed, he enjoyed these, although he’d still rather have chewed regular candy.

Morn set the empty tubes aside and raised the glass to his lips, chugging his water. When it hit about half empty, he suddenly…felt something.

Glass lowered, the azure demon froze, standing in the kitchen on red alert for a reason he didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure it was something physical he’d felt, and Morn had no training as a mage, so he wasn’t sure what was going on or how he’d noticed exactly, but he just…felt instinctively that something really bad had settled in his stomach.

Hand pressed to his abs through his shirt, Morn waited and listened for a minute, but nothing happened. He burped, but that was it. Oh well. Must’ve been anxiety, and gas, because he felt nowhere close to sick, or even full, although he figured he might when all those eggs doubled in size. Fuck, that was going to feel weird, but there was no turning back now.

He returned to the area rug to grab the cyan cock, a cock ring, what looked like an artificial blue vagina in a tall cup, and two packets of flavored lube—blueberry and butterscotch. Taking them to the couch, he debated how he was supposed to do this. Was he supposed to put the ring on first? No, he thought about it and figured he should probably get hard first, use toys second. Yeah.

What a chore though. Getting hard was hard whenever he actually wanted to do it. Morn set the toys aside and unbuttoned his jeans, whipping out his soft-. Not soft. He was already stiffening up? Why? Maybe his body was more interested in this than his mind.

Didn’t matter. Point is, he had no trouble stroking himself to full mast, ditching his pants, and then it was time to figure out the toys. What order should he, uh…equip them in? The ring seemed like the easiest to put on, but Morn hated taking the easy road. Anal first then.

He set it upright on the couch and tore open the packet of blueberry lube, giving it a taste. Alright, he obviously wasn’t intended to drink this right out of the packet, but it wasn’t bad. He drank it. Sucking on the packet, he poured the butterscotch lube on the cyan cock and turned himself around.

No no, Po didn’t understand. Preparation? Gradually working in one, two, three fingers? Hah. No, see, those were strategies for educated Lust demons, people with more than one brain cell clacking around in their skull, and present-day Morn.

Past Morn decided to just rip the bandaid off and slammed himself down on the dildo, hissing through the agony. It wasn’t as big as it should’ve been for someone like Morn, as it too was made for demons less than half his size, so it wasn’t too destructive. But he still saw stars as the sudden stretch shot pain and a little pleasure up his spine.

But the truly painful part was looking down and realizing that had made him cum. Already?! Fuck! He hadn’t even put the ring and orifice on yet. How was he supposed to beat Kat’s stupid challenge when he spent himself so quick?

Okay. It was okay. He was still hard. The fight wasn’t lost yet. Morn would put effort into this next round and figure out how to handle the rest later.

The ring was uncomfortably tight. Way tighter than it should’ve been. He couldn’t fit into the cup, so he tore it open and used just the silicon innards to jack off. It took a couple packets to make it doable, and he slid the dildo out, added a couple packets to it too, and shoved it back in to the biggest spark of pleasure he’d ever felt.

What the actual fuck was that? Right, right—prostate massage. He knew what the prostate was, he just stupidly hadn’t realized you could kind of just barge in the backdoor and beat the hell out of it.

As he grew used to the sensations, Morn began to genuinely enjoy himself, working both toys in sync until he felt his orgasm coming on. The ring stopped it at the door.

Oh, this was a good thing. With a ring holding him back, he could switch toys in the middle of a round to cycle through them faster without running himself dry. Optimal strategy.

That said, he couldn’t make himself pause at the precipice to fumble with the boxes and wrapping. Resolving to do that while he recovered, Morn worked himself up as much as he could stand before opening the ring and spilling all over the rug with a desperate gasp.

Pulling the dildo out and setting it aside with the ring and the destroyed artificial vagina, Morn admitted that this was fun. Not having the social pressure to perform at the Spa, or the girls desperate to metaphorically suck his dick while literally sucking his dick was nice. Also, the toys were more interesting and effective than his hand. And he realized he enjoyed anal, which nobody at the Spa had the guts to offer him before, and he wouldn’t have had the guts to start that conversation himself.

Alright, he needed some time to get up and stretch, open more toys, recover, and why the fuck was he STILL HARD?!

Morn stared down at his dick, confused. It remained at full mast, twitching and taunting him, dripping with lube and cum. Was his body really this much more excited about the toys than the Spa? No…

Something was wrong.

Pleasure thrummed from his stomach, and his hands flew to claw at it. Full. Morn felt stuffed full like he’d chugged a gallon of water. Right, the pleasure eggs. It’d been more than ten minutes. He needed to go shit them out.

Jumping up, he trotted to the medium bathroom and threw himself onto the toilet. There was a clock next to the door, and Morn checked it occasionally as ten more minutes passed without anything moving. The hell?

He leaned back, lifted his shirt, and rubbed his belly. Fuck, he looked bloated, and it was firm under his fingers. Every touch sent little shockwaves straight to his aching cock.

Much as the feeling turned him on, he knew he was supposed to have laid the eggs by now, and it was bad that he hadn’t. They all worked the same, right?

Morn got up and returned to the kitchen for another look at those tubes. He felt like more of an idiot with each label he read. The green eggs took ten minutes to incubate and doubled in size, while the cherry eggs needed fifteen minutes and tripled in size. The blue ones were supposed to have gone up his butt and come out with his orgasm. Either way, they all should have exited his bowels by now, and the instant he read the black and pink label he knew which was the problem.

~O~
~V~
~I~

Nuclear
Grade
Pleasure
Eggs

So potent a Wrath general would weep with eggstasy.~

“A Wrath ge-? Is that a threat?” Morn asked the tube like it could hear him. Really felt like Kat attacked him personally with this purchase. He flipped it around to read the instructions. “Serving size: one pleasure egg. Servings per container: three. Swallow one egg or insert into anus or vagina and enjoy? Do NOT take more than one egg per day. Contains an elasticity enchantment? Warning: Contains a potent aphrodisiac? The hell is that? High risk of pregnancy? Lasts up to…twelve hours?!” He choked. “Or MORE?!”

Rage hit him like a brick. He swatted the other three tubes off the counter, sending them bouncing across his apartment.

“Why’s this one so much stronger than the others?!” he yelled like he was alarmed by a powerful enemy on the battlefield, almost crushing the little clear tube in his hand. He glowered at the pink heart explosion and the tagline as they mocked him. “Fuck do you mean I’m gonna be stuck this stuffed for twelve hours?! I have Conquest tomorrow!”

With an ominous burbling, his belly gave off more sparks of pleasure as he watched it…grow. He pressed his fingers to the swell and felt it expand an inch beneath them, and that punched the anger out of him like a fist just below the ribs.

No, he wouldn’t be stuck this stuffed for twelve hours. The azure demon realized then that he was going to spend the next twelve hours being forcibly stretched around the eggs as they grew so much they made the others look like a joke.

These eggs were going to make Wrath General Morn Ingstar weep with eggstasy. That was a threat, a promise, and possibly just a fact.

“No no no, oh, wait a minute. Hold on,” he mumbled to himself like he thought he could bargain with the eggs, pacing circles around his kitchen island.

Fuck, he needed to do something. He could call Kat and yell at her. No, he didn’t want to admit he didn’t think he could handle this. Call the Medic Bay? And tell them what, exactly? Sorry he overdosed on pleasure eggs and was so horny he could barely think?

Gods, he was horny. He stopped right where he was and jerked it until he came violently on the kitchen floor. It didn’t clear his head, and his cock softened for all of twenty seconds before swelling back up. Fuck!

Pressure kept building in his guts. His stomach was painfully full. But his ass was painfully empty. H-he needed, uh…He needed. Morn ran back to the area rug and rammed the cyan cock back inside, but it just wasn’t enough. Bigger. He needed something bigger.

Morn was in the middle of tearing the boxes and wrapping off his other toys like he was going to die here without them when he felt…something else.

A sea breeze caressed his exposed rear and ruffled his wavy hair. Shadowy waves spawned from thin air and crashed across the carpet, swirling around him as slushy snowflakes scattered across the coffee table. The beginnings of a frosty ethereal hurricane.

“What? No, wait, hold on, fuck, I don’t want to summon Hell’s Hail in the middle of my fucking apartment! Stop!”

Right, Po didn’t really understand how Hellfires worked. The way Morn learned to summon his power was to picture a vine of grapes in his head and crush them as he needed to amp up his Pressure. But his control was actually pretty poor despite how badass everyone said his ability was, so it sometimes just did its own thing when he was agitated. Becoming a general had made it so much worse, because now he could inject those grapes with Hell’s Hail and detonate them like bombs, causing massive disasters with Pressure’s brutal soul-crushing gravity. He didn’t think he’d ever done it on Conquest because he’d never needed it desperately enough to risk harming his friends.

Well, Morn focused for the first time that night and realized those grapes had swollen like his belly. Their juice was starting to rip and tear through the skin, leaking everywhere.

“No! Fuck, no, I don’t want to hurt anyone!” he hollered at his hands, watching them flicker to shadow, glowing iridescent at the edges. “What do I do? What do I do?!”

Panicked, Morn did the only thing he could think to try: he turned Pressure inward and smashed himself instead.

Chapter Text

Morn doubted a Wrath general had ever looked more pathetic, screaming as he crushed himself into the carpet with the full force of his Hellfire. He wasn’t worried about breaking through the floor—Wrathgard was originally built to house ignis dragons and their riders, so it was enforced with many enchantments to keep the tower intact. He wasn’t worried about being heard either, as there were also silence enchantments to stop the loud-ass dragons from keeping other riders awake.

No, his main concern was that he’d slammed himself face-down on the hardwood, and the downward force on his back squeezed his bloated middle like a hydraulic press. Agony crackled up his spine. Felt like he was going to explode.

Fuck, he needed to relax, or he was going to pop his stomach like one of those grapes!

He tried to focus and remember his training, because he did receive instructions for what he was supposed to do in the event of his magic going haywire, but the pleasure and pain narrowed his world to just the pressure in his belly.

What finally snapped him out of it was a mind-shattering orgasm. He shuddered through it, fulfilling the promise of weeping with eggstasy for the first of many times, and his magic relaxed with the rest of his body.

Arms shaking, Morn rolled onto his back and placed his hands over his paunch. The skin was sensitive. Rubbing it felt amazing, dulling the pain and sending waves of pleasure radiating through him. He wished he had somebody there to rub it for him, but he also felt like a wreck and didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

The stimulation made him hard again.

Twelve hours. His options were to call the Medic Bay or endure for twelve hours.

Morn tried to reason himself through it, he really did. He recounted how his friends reminded him now and then that it was okay to ask for help. That it was alright to admit when the battle was lost, and retreat to live another day. If Morn were the one finding any of his friends like this, he’d call the Medic Bay immediately. He’d made a simple mistake. People would understand. Morn didn’t deserve to be tortured for not reading a label.

So he called the medics, and they took care of him- Nah, Morn was kidding. He fucking buckled up for twelve hours of torture, that’s what he did.

The next few hours were agony. He rubbed himself raw, and his body didn’t care how overstimulated he became. Despite cumming all over the apartment, he always had more, like his balls magically refilled. Constantly tight. Always full. He repeatedly blacked out for a few moments at a time and returned to consciousness humping the furniture.

In his lucid moments, Morn searched through all the junk his Hail had scattered from the shelves and cabinets to find those damn toys. He couldn’t afford to lose them now. Not because of the challenge—fuck Kat Ana and her stupid goddamned ‘restaurant’—but because twelve hours of just his hand around his length would’ve driven him insane. He found an opaque black plastic box and collected them all inside; or all he could find, because he didn’t have the mind to take inventory.

The silicone mouth and anus were uncomfortably small, but he did his best. The yellow and green cock rings wouldn’t fit, so he slid them over his ears in an attempt to ‘enjoy’ them anyway. He really enjoyed the three different-shaped prostate massagers. They vibrated. It was great while it lasted, but they ran out of battery, and Morn tried to plug the USB chargers directly into a wall socket and cried when it didn’t work, lacking the focus to figure out why.

Cyan dildo, his beloved. He went back to that. Last, he opened the anal training kit, realized with annoyance he was supposed to have used those first, cursed over how small they were, and settled for coating them in flavored lube and sucking on them. It was better being filled from both ends.

His belly kept getting bigger. And bigger. He felt it sloshing around when he walked. Jutting out from his frame. Changing his center of gravity. Ruining his body. Fuck, it was horrifying, but so hot. His bloated reflection in the large bathroom’s full body mirror hypnotized him. He looked four months pregnant. Later five. Then six.

He ran out of toys to try. Morn felt so naïve for expecting he’d struggle to get through them all, and he wished Kat had bought him more stuff. Bigger stuff.

Desperate, Morn found himself possessed by the need to be railed into the bed. The toys weren’t enough. He needed to call someone. Not the Lust Spa; he didn’t want strangers to see him like this and gossip about it. Kat wasn’t into men, he was a little afraid of hurting Thro, Nunch was his brother, Bug had a boyfriend…

Scimi. He could call Scimi Tar and beg the other general to breed him like an animal in heat. Scimi was single and mentioned doing both women and men at the Lust Spa, he’d at least be curious enough to hear Morn out.

Then Morn realized he’d left his phone in the Mornmobile.

His despair was so great it brought his Hail on again, and he lied on his back on the bathroom tiles this time, sobbing and hysterical as the cosmic wind and waves rotated around him, building up to another hurricane.

As he felt his Pressure pressing down on his distended belly, felt how much more it hurt than when he’d been mildly bloated, Morn realized this round would rupture something. There was too much pressure. Too much Pressure. He needed to calm down, or he was going to kill himself with his own Hellfire.

The general tried to remember his training, but he hadn’t feared losing control enough to really commit the details to memory. Tried to focus on his breathing, but Pressure pushed the eggs upward, stealing the space his lungs needed to expand. Black spots swam across his vision as he stared up at the bathroom ceiling.

Morn was going to die here. His life flashed before his eyes, from the snowman incident, to meeting Nunch, training, Wrath City, losing his father, the horrors of war, his journey to General, the nice beach, Conquest, and his thoughts finally froze on the brief flicker of his future wife in the crystal ball.

Morn wasn’t going to survive to meet his wife.

Sorrow crashed over him like the icy waterfalls of Snow Gladius. One happy future did exist for him. A sturdy future. A love that overcomes. Was Morn really going to miss it over some eggs?

As he stared into the darkness of asphyxiation, he tried to picture the mottled mix’s hot and cold hands—left red, right blue—caressing his face, and Morn Ingstar…felt something. Almost like there really were hands caressing him. A light pressure on his cheeks.

A light Pressure on his cheeks.

The image of his wife had some subconscious control over his Hellfire. He pictured her shoving against the terrible weight to rescue her husband, and it worked. The Pressure let up, his lungs expanded, and sweet oxygen flooded back in as and he gasped for air.

After his vision returned and the storm subsided, Morn turned his head to look at himself in the mirror again. He was sprawled on the floor, drenched in sweat, tears, and cum. His belly rose like a mountain between his ribs and groin, tight and shiny, the sides raked with stretch marks. Fucking eggs really did ruin his body.

Beeping rang from his apartment. What? Why was his alarm clock going off? It couldn’t be morning already.

Morn tried to sit up, but his belly wouldn’t let him. He had to roll on his side and shuffle up onto his hands and knees before he could stand. He took a few shaky steps and realized he couldn’t walk right. The weight of his ‘womb’ reduced him to an awkward waddle.

He waddled into his living room and saw the strong light of late morning shining through his window wall. He hadn’t slept, trapped awake in his body under a trance of endless pain and pleasure. Yes, he was still hard, but he’d gotten used to it enough to maintain some sanity.

He waddled upstairs and shut off the alarm, wondering what the actual hell he was supposed to do, because he couldn’t attend Conquest like THIS.

But he didn’t want to just give up, so he returned to the large bathroom and tried anyway. Took a shower. Used an entire bottle of grapefruit scented soap scrubbing his filthy body. Came three times from the belly rubs.

When he was clean, he made an attempt to get dressed, and that went as well as you’d imagine. None of his shirts were long and loose enough to pull over his belly, and none of his pants would button.

Fuck, it wasn’t like clothing was going to hide this anyway. They’d make fun of him. Never let him live it down. He could hear it now: ‘Today, on Conquest, we poke Morn’s big pregnant belly until he gives birth. Place your bets in the chat for how many babies are in there.’

Know what? Maybe he could miss Conquest today. They’d worry about him and ask what the hell happened, but it was infinitely better than the alternative.

He’d just tossed away his pants to jack off again when Morn moved wrong or something, and he felt a shifting and burbling in his guts. Something gurgled down through his bowels, and he dropped into a squat with the possessive urge to push. The cyan dildo shot out of him, followed by a torrent of small eggs. When the flood stopped, he glanced down to take inventory. The green ones had swollen to twice their size, the cherry ones to thrice their size, and the blue ones were the same. Huh. So there were all the small, shitty eggs, but his belly had only shrunk a couple inches. What about the-

A fucking boulder dropped into Morn’s pelvis.

His mind flashed back to upending the four tubes into his waiting maw, and he remembered swallowing only three eggs from the nuclear grade pleasure eggs container. Knowing the worst hell was ahead, he shuffled to the tub, to the last pump bottle of lube he’d set there, and pressed down on the spout.

Empty.

Despair strangled his heart, bringing on another round of Hail.

Morn curled up on the tiles, cowering as his belly cramped and contracted, the hurricane building above him. He cried out for his wife to save him, and the image of her stepped in again to shield him from the storm. He felt, heard, and saw the two forces clashing. The sound of crashing waves. Flickers of darkness and sea green flowing like currents. Huh?

Although he’d manifested his magic at the age of four, it was only now, at twenty-six, that Morn made his first attempt to actually FEEL his magic. It wasn’t just a downward force that crushed everyone in his way when he was angry; it was…water. Water Pressure?

Inspired, and with his fear dissolving, he pictured his wife pulling the current over him like a blanket. It felt nice. Massaging his flushed skin. Kneading his aches and pains away.

He pictured the current as her sleeves as she snaked her arms under her husband and lifted him. The current lifted him. She set Morn gently into the tub, where he found a better position to push.

And he pushed for his life. The rock-hard eggs stood fast as Morn’s poor muscles squeezed and struggled around them. His wife massaged his back and belly, comforting him as he labored. The egg burned his hole like a ring of fire as it stretched him open.

“I’m sorry, mama!” he sobbed, clawing at the side of the tub, delirious with pain.

The deafening THUNK of the egg hitting the tub floor about gave him a heart attack. The emptiness in his hole distressed him, but not for long, as the second egg slid down into place. But it and the next were easier than the first. His stamina finally paid off for the challenge as he pushed them out…

Morn woke up draped over the side of his tub like a towel. Everything hurt. He felt empty as he lifted his head and looked behind him. Three melon-sized eggs sat around the drain. Obsidian black, with iridescent supernovas bursting around the swirly pink heart designs. They reminded him of the rainbow obsidian cliffs at Wrathgard’s gate.

Crap, what time was it? Conquest was probably still going. He’d be really late, but better late than his friends thinking he’d died and coming to investigate.

Making an attempt to clean up and hide the evidence, he brought the black plastic box and put the three nuclear eggs inside, then scooped up all the little ones and dumped them in too. He grabbed a rag and cleaning detergent and wiped as much of the cum off his furniture and floors as he could. In the process, he found an unused yellow cock ring and a packet of pineapple flavored lube under the couch. The ring didn’t fit, so he chopped it up with scissors and ate it for breakfast with the lube to wash it down. There. Toys enjoyed. Challenge complete.

Morn took another shower and threw on jeans, a t-shirt, and his feather cloak, relieved by his ability to stay soft and fit into clothes. His apartment was as much of a wreck as he was, and he didn’t have the time or patience to deal with it, so he grabbed his wallet and went to the entryway.

“Maid Brigade,” he groaned, clapping twice.

Beads of crimson light gathered. A little maid made of plastic, like a living doll, appeared, rigidly raising her shiny blue hand to salute. “Maid Brigade, reporting for-”

He handed her a couple thousand saflecks. “H-hey, sorry, um, I, uh…had an accident with Hell’s Hail…”

Confused, she took the money and marched into his apartment to take a look at all the scattered junk and toppled furniture. Her eyes literally popped out of her head like ping-pong balls. “Holy Rollingol in a bowling alley!”

“Bring all the help you need. If that’s not enough money, have the Brigade bill me later.” Shame burned his cheeks as he shuffled out the door and left her to it.

Morn’s rage built as he marched downstairs, not daring to risk teleportation making his already sick stomach worse.

Kat.

Ana.

That fucking goat.

He passed Scimi in the hall, and the other general waved, chugging a bottle of beer with his other hand. “Hey. The hell happened to you?”

“Nothing,” he said, hoping he didn’t look as destroyed as he felt.

Scimi frowned. “Doesn’t look like nothing. You look like you spent all night dodging knives and getting run over by a road roller.”

Morn stood menacingly at the top of the stairs, glaring at him. “It’s fine. I handled it myself.”

“Whatever, man.”

Morn stormed down to the first floor and slammed open the backdoor to the courtyard. Bug was still filming.

Nunch had just laid his opponent flat, and he brightened with relief as he saw his brother was okay. “Yo, bro. Welcome back.”

The general marched right past him.

Kat waved. “Welcome back, jackass. You have fun last night?”

He lifted her by the throat. “You…”

Confused, she clawed at his arm. “Uh, d-did I, um, get you something that…disagreed with you…?”

Morn’s anger boiled over and he struggled to stop himself from squeezing harder as it began to set in what exactly she had done to him. “You gave me…something EVIL…”

She wheezed. “Wh-which one…?”

“The fuck do you mean WHICH ONE?”

Obviously she knew it was the ‘spicy eggs’, which had lived up to his ‘spicy eggspectations’, but he slowly realized she probably hadn’t read the label either. Much as Kat enjoyed his suffering, she’d never knowingly ask him to endure half a day of torture and almost kill himself. She’d joked about his beer belly before because she wanted her friend to be healthy, not because she wanted his body destroyed. He released her throat before he actually hurt her.

He admitted to beating her challenge in as few details as possible because the audience was watching, and she was shocked he’d done it. Hell, she had no idea how easy it was to get through everything else after taking the eggs.

She congratulated him, but then shuddered. “Oh gods, now you’re gonna punish me with those spicy eggs, aren’t you?! Morn, wait, we can talk about this!”

Hands up in surrender, he frowned. “No. I won’t, I mean. I wouldn’t make you eat one of those evil things.”

“Thank Ambrellosh, you scared me for a second. You’re such a merciful demon-god-to-be, Morn.”

Morn froze. His shoulders sank as he was forced to admit to himself why he wouldn’t give her an egg. Not because he didn’t want to torture Kat, although that wasn’t a lie, but because the experience had been…life-changing. Transcendent. Morn felt like he’d flown to the heavens and brushed the electric edges of the cosmos where only gods could tread.

Fucking hell, Po, if Thro told them tonight that his boyfriend’s big bloated belly was a goddamned Devil’s Chalice, Morn wouldn’t question it. Not that he actually thought that was the case, but it was that intense.

He needed more. Kat couldn’t have any; they were HIS.

“That’s, uh…not why,” he said, pulling out his wallet and handing her a stack of cash. “Can you…? Can you go…back to the ‘restaurant’…and buy me another…?”

The pale pink demoness just stood there staring at him for a few seconds before choking on her own spit in a laughing fit.

Chapter Text

Kat told him to buy his own damn eggs and gave him the address, so that’s what he did. He drove out to that part of town and found the store with his shadow cloak on, not wanting to be seen. The Lusty Little Waitress intimidated him. He feared walking into monster dens less than this tiny store.

Morn ducked inside and almost hit his head on the low ceiling. The cashier took notice and lowered her heart-shaped glasses for a better look at him, whistling. He blushed, but ignored her. The general was here on a mission.

Which immediately ground to a halt when he found the oviposition section and saw that they had plenty of the green, red, and blue eggs, but none of the nuclear ones.

Fuck, he really didn’t wanna talk to anyone here, but he needed those eggs, so he wandered back to the counter and kneeled. “Hey, hi, um, d-do you have…” He fished the empty tube out of his pocket. “M-more of these…?”

Gods, the way she sucked in a breath and looked fucking floored over the moon absolutely killed Morn’s dignity. “Yes! You’re in luck; we had the other two returned, if you’re interested.”

He was, so he bought the full tube and the one with two left. “When do you stock more?”

“Saturday mornings!”

Morn made that his new routine. Every Saturday, like clockwork, he’d meditate outside until the store opened, then go in and buy his eggs, and sometimes flavored lube. NOT to drink. Okay, fine, he drank some of it, but he also needed a lot for its intended purpose.

He got Thro to teach him how to use online stores and privately ordered toys his size from Lust City. Yeah, he had a closet full of them now.

For weeks, he enjoyed and experimented with the eggs. He started taking them in the truck on the way home. Sometimes one at a time to draw them out all weekend, sometimes a tube at a time, and a few times he took all nine and got fucking HUGE. He forced himself to learn to sleep with one egg inside him and enjoyed incredible wet dreams.

The contents were also mind-blowing. A few times he cracked open one of the small eggs and drank the whites and yolk. Made him feel fucking unstoppable for ten minutes, and then ecstasy crashed over him like a wave, leaving him rabidly horny for hours. The incubated eggs were even more intense, making him hyperactive for a full half hour. He lifted weights until the arousal smashed him like a wrecking ball.

Now that he knew what to expect and prepared in advance, he grew to love being perpetually aroused and stuffed silly. Started to crave it like a drug. He felt fulfilled being full. Felt closer to his magic, closer to the gods, and closer to his wife. Closer to using his Hellfire like a rice cooker instead of a hammer. Closer to understanding who he was.

Then the high of the eggs would wear off over the week, and shame set in. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he like this? His friends made fun of him for being so damn distracted. For being more interested in eggs than battle. What would his wife actually think? She was supposed to be the pregnant one, not him. Fuck, she’d be mortified by his fetish. Morn Ingstar was a Wrath General, and Wrath demons didn’t do this.

Morn needed more eggs.

Fucking store only sold those three measly tubes, so he bought a fuckton of different pleasure eggs from Lust City, most of which he still had stockpiled in his closet. Some he liked, but none compared to the nuclear eggs.

Bought a copy of the Lust Spa registry to see if they had any ovi demons on hand, because having eggs laid directly down his throat or up his ass sounded heavenly. But they only had one—Sunny Sideup, a three foot tall blue demon woman who laid little magenta eggs the size of marbles.

Yeah, Sunny was real. Right, that was the fans’ invented name for Egg Waitress.

But marbles weren’t big enough for Morn, so his hopes weren’t high enough to cast aside his dignity and request her service.

Then he read online that…other things sometimes incubated their eggs in demons. Monsters. Mm. Two in particular caught his interest.

Little known secret: ignis dragons had a symbiotic relationship with their riders. Yep, that’s how you became a dragon rider back in the day—you got a dragon to lay a big fucking egg up your ass and incubated it for almost a year.

Audience opinion and his friends’ mocking him for getting himself egged for a year be damned, Morn needed it. He jogged down to Magma Punk and made a fool of himself shaking his ass for the dragons, but they didn’t seem interested. Well, it probably wasn’t their season yet. They probably waited to breed when the volcano erupted on Tabbiramae Day. So that was a bust, at least for the next few months.

Second to catch his interest was, Po guessed it: the Shallows Warden. And oh baby, Morn drove down to the coast and shook his ass for the Shallows Warden, and it was much more receptive. Fucking thing’s giant slimy tentacles fucked him from both ends, plus sounding, for two hours straight and stuffed so many eggs into his aching stomach that he couldn’t get up for five more hours until they hatched inside him and he birthed a small army of little tentacle monsters on the beach. It was exhilarating. But then the Warden wanted to keep him, so he beat the shit out of it with his bare fists and left because he still cared about his life and his wife.

Yeah, Morn wanted to be a breeding cow, but like…recreationally, after work and on weekends, you know?

“Here,” Goldme said one day, handing him a scrap of black paper with his eggs.

Confused, he unfolded the letter. “What’s this?”

‘Dear super tall guy,’ it read. ‘Thanks for buying my eggs. You’re my only customer, and it fills me with joy to know I’ve filled you with joy.’

Morn’s single bouncing brain cell skidded to a halt. He was a fucking idiot. He was so goddamned stupid, because he never stopped to connect the dots. Store-bought eggs and demon oviposition weren’t separate concepts—of course the nuclear eggs Morn so adored came out of a person.

He looked at the three tubes with fresh eyes, understanding a real ovi demon had sensually laid these for him, and the thought shook him so hard he quietly burst into tears crouched in front of the cash register. Thank the gods for the shadow cloak hiding his face.

“You okay, big guy?” Goldme asked, bringing him back from the shock. She couldn’t see him cry, but he did spend an unreasonably long time reading the short letter.

“Uh, yeah, um, d-did you write this…?”

“Nope. The local artist who lays those eggs wanted to thank you for being such a great customer.”

He blinked. “Local?”

“Lives right here in Wrath City. Brings the eggs in for you personally,” she said with a wink.

Morn bought his eggs and left the store in a daze. Somewhere along the way, he assumed he must be dealing with a Lust demoness, because that’s what most of the others he’d seen online were, whether they had vaginas, or ovipositors, or both.

There was a Lust demoness in Wrath City powerful enough to make Wrath General Morn Ingstar weep with eggstasy.

She was real. He had to hire her. But an internet search turned up nothing, and the ovi demons at every other Lust store and spa he checked laid friendly little eggs, not the melon-sized monstrosities he loved.

Then he made the mistake of wandering into the courtyard late, letter in hand, and fucking goddamned Kat and Thro stole it and read it to the audience.

“That explains everything,” Nunch announced. “This isn’t about the spicy eggs. You’ve been so damn distracted because you’ve got a big stinkin’ crush on the egg waitress.” He pinched his brother’s blushing cheeks. “And Egg Waitress has a big stinkin’ crush on you.~”

Morn growled, trying to look angry and intimidating, but he felt cornered. He never gave them details, and they never asked, but his friends knew he spent all his alone time getting off to oviposition eggs. Answering their questions, he felt their judging eyes peering through his facade of strength at his soft soul.

His shoulders slumped as shame overcame him. “Fine, I get it. I’m a powerful Wrath demon with ambitions to become a god and an admiral, and my obsession is weird and shameful. I’m sorry. From now on, I’ll focus on hunting the Devil’s Chalices.”

The general was about to march into the Crystal Caverns portal and devolve into an endless battle to try to shake his egg addiction and his big stinkin’ crush when Kat fucking head-butted him in the spine. To his shock, Nunch lectured him not about his addiction, but about his workaholic nature, implying the eggs were…good for him?

“So-…What then?” he asked. “You want me to keep buying the eggs?”

Nunch snapped at him. “I want you to ask her out, you whipped yolk!”

What?

They really wanted him to take Egg Waitress on a date. Tried to bully him into it. Morn gave them good reasons it wouldn’t work out, or so he thought. Argued they lived in two different worlds, that he might hurt her because of his violent soul, that she didn’t know who he was. How was he supposed to tell her what even he didn’t know? His name didn’t feel like a good enough answer.

It simmered in the back of his mind as they returned to the Crystal Caverns for the week. They talked about the gods, found the chamber where the Chalice must have been hidden, and fought so fucking many crystal dragons.

He expected more of the same on Friday, but then they dragged him to a damn flower shop. Morn felt so out of place surrounded by the beautiful blooms.

Desperate, he kept arguing, saying he didn’t know if she was single, admitted with his shy silence that he really was more afraid to talk to a girl than he was to fight hoards of monsters and pursue godhood.

Nunch and Thro had been sharing glances and smiles for years now, and when he finally asked her out, it made Morn feel like a real loser. Don’t misunderstand, he was happy for his brother, but he couldn’t fathom how it was so easy for Nunch and so difficult for him.

Then he argued something about dating rituals, Nunch threw it back in his face, and Morn had to admit to himself that he was scraping the bottom of the barrel for excuses.

He agreed to give her flowers and chocolates, but as he wandered around the store, trying to pick out which to give her, doubts crept in. Hiring Egg Waitress to fuck him full of eggs would have been one thing. A passing sexual fling that was more about the kink than any kind of connection. They may not even have had to talk. But a date? Morn didn’t want a date with a random Lust demoness, he was supposed to be waiting for his future wife.

Was it even moral of him, knowing he had a sturdy love somewhere among his futures? Wait, would the sex have been moral? Were the eggs moral? Fuck.

And then another thought hit him like a knife to the eyeball: what if Egg Waitress WAS the mottled mix? What if the gods were scooting them together because his potential future failed marriages would all fail because Morn would fail to keep the eggs out of his ass, but Egg Waitress would endure because she was into the same shit?

Fuck, the thought of a wife who would indulge his weird obsession instead of demanding he tamp it down and perform like a proper husband made him hard. He turned away from the camera and prayed Bug wouldn’t notice or catch a shot of something obscene.

Morn picked out a box of chocolates that almost resembled the heart symbols on the eggs, and a red and blue rose bouquet resembling the mottled mix from the crystal ball.

Fucking shit, his heart thundered in his chest as he stared into the roses. He needed this to be her. He’d be crushed if it wasn’t. Morn wasn’t sure he could love a woman who wouldn’t let him indulge anymore. Something was wrong with his soul.

Nunch reminded him to write her a letter, so Morn did. Struggled through it, crying and shaking the entire time. He gave the stuff to Goldme to give to Egg Waitress and regretted the letter immediately. It was too honest, but also maybe not honest enough. He might’ve insulted her by mistake and made himself out to be a fucking creep.

Morn laid awake all night, tossing and turning, trying to figure out what he’d do if Egg Waitress was or wasn’t the mottled mix.

Saturday morning, he shook like a leaf outside the store until Goldme opened up.

“S-s-so, um, uh, what’d she say?” he asked, kneeling in front of the counter.

Goldme’s pitying smile said it all: Egg Waitress had turned him down. Morn was crushed. Or maybe he shouldn’t have been, because that meant she wasn’t the mottled mix, right? His future wife wouldn’t have been scared away by his inevitable dumbassery, right?

Then she handed him another letter.

Egg Waitress said she wasn’t bothered by his size or type. Apparently she LIKED being surrounded by big, dumb Wrath demons like him. She was single, honored he’d asked, and said she’d love to meet him and get to know him. But she couldn’t. Saturday or any day, because she…didn’t have time to exist with him in public? What?

Morn was so confused.

She had plans. Damn. Her eggs took a long time to cook, so she spent all day every day watching a…live show…on the internet…called…

“SHE WATCHES CONQUEST?!” Morn yelled, raising his voice in the store for the first time.

Goldme wheezed. “Oh man, you got GOT, didn’t you, General?”

…The cashier knew who he was. Seen through the shadows, Morn slumped, Pressure weighing down on him.

“Hey, don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell anyone,” she said.

He read the rest of the letter. She thought Morn was hot and had a big stinkin’ crush on him. The demoness made a sassy, passive-aggressive swipe at the Egg Waitress subplot and his obsession with the ‘spicy eggs’, and he wished it didn’t make him laugh, because it also hurt, but it got a weak chuckle out of him.

Egg Waitress joked about the similarities between what was happening on Conquest and in the store being a coincidence. She knew every tiny detail about him he’d made available to the public, but joked she didn’t know him.

‘Golly, it’s a shame I don’t know your name. I’ve been picturing you as Morn Ingstar basically since you starting buying strange eggs at the same time he did, but I know you’re definitely not Morn Ingstar, right?’

Way to punch him in the dick for forgetting to introduce himself.

Morn looked up. “What does she mean she doesn’t have time to exist with me in public? Is she camera shy? We don’t have to film her. Nunch’ll understand.”

Goldme cringed. “That’s classified. For our artist’s safety.”

Right. He didn’t want to make Egg Waitress feel unsafe.

Monday afternoon, Morn took five steps into the courtyard and caught the gleam of the camera lens. He felt Egg Waitress watching and was so ashamed of existing that he shuffled behind a support beam to hide. His friends died of laughter.

Po saw this part. They threatened him for not going on the date, stole and read his letter even though he hid it this time, adored her, and invited her to write fan mail.

Morn tried to remind her what a monster he was, but Kat called out his bullshit.

Tuesday, Nunch said she wrote into the show, but it was just an impostor. Her tone and details weren’t right.

Wednesday, more impostors. Morn was about to say ‘fuck it’ and tell them to stop reading the damn fan mail when one called him Three Tube Dude, and the high of hearing the real Egg Waitress’ words made his Pressure slam on everyone around him.

Of course they read it out loud again.

She was sorry she’d been slow to write, and sorry about the impostor. Sorry for getting on Morn’s case when she hadn’t told him who she was either. She was afraid to meet him, but not for the reason he thought, and she got up his ass about that. Egg Waitress said she didn’t want to seem pathetic, but that she’d received good and bad news, and had to give him context.

Thro choked, shoulders slumping. “My-…M-my body is…broken.”

Morn froze. He didn’t know what was going on, but her words brought flashbacks of finding Nunch with a paralysis bullet in his shoulder.

She was having trouble finding work in her condition. The eggs weren’t selling, and Morn could easily imagine why. She wasn’t asking for charity, but might have to take a Greed demon’s deal and move if the Nunch Box couldn’t or wouldn’t help her. Maybe there was magic in her eggs, she suggested. Morn knew that was true, but he’d eaten them all and had none to show Thro.

“I don’t want to go,” Egg Waitress said. “Wrath City is my home.”

Morn sprang out of his seat, barely hearing anything else Thro read. He drove the Mornmobile as fast as he could and parked in the grocery store lot where he usually did, fumbling with the shadow cloak’s latch as he put it on and ran to The Lusty Little Waitress.

He slammed the door open, scaring the shit out of Goldme. “I need to see Egg Waitress.”

The cashier straightened her heart-shaped glasses. “Uh, that’s great, but Egg Waitress doesn’t want to see you.”

Chapter Text

“She needs my help,” Morn insisted, kneeling in front of the counter.

Goldme glared. “If Egg Waitress wanted your help in person, Egg Waitress would have invited you to meet in person.”

He met her glare, realizing a moment later that she couldn’t see his face, so it didn’t matter. “But she’s injured. She’s going to be kicked out of her home because she can’t pay rent. I can help.”

The cashier cringed in a way that told him she knew, or maybe the situation was worse than he thought. “If you wanna pay Egg Waitress’ bills, then leave some money and go.”

Morn stopped to consider that. He could easily pay, however high they were. But she didn’t want charity. He could say it was payment for eggs, but they only wanted nine saflecks for the three tubes, and those were selling, obviously, but that couldn’t be anywhere close to enough, and he had no idea how many more eggs she made than she sold. He didn’t want her to return the money because she couldn’t provide the product. This would be pointless then. He came to save a damsel in distress like a Wrath demon, not debate a business deal like a Greed demon.

There was something about the way Egg Waitress wrote. A kind of struggle between pride and humility, where she was too proud to call out for rescue, but realized she was backed into a corner and needed to make a self-sacrifice. It was the kind of courage common in Wrath demons, which confused him, because he was so sure Egg Waitress must be Lust.

Either way, something was wrong.

Morn shook his head. “I can’t trust you with this.”

Goldme’s eyebrows pulled together as rage bubbled to the surface. “You think I’m gonna run off with the money? Fuck you. Announce it on your Conquest show and Egg Waitress will see it.”

Ah. He wondered then if Goldme, despite her job at a sex shop, might be a Wrath or Pride demon. Probably Pride—the kind of demon who would rather die than admit they were out of their league. That would make this difficult. “It’s not about the money. You can’t help her and I can. Now tell me where she is.”

She didn’t tell him where Egg Waitress was. They argued at the counter for three hours, only pausing for Goldme to ring up a few customers.

Morn got fed up and decided he would simply wait. After all, Goldme had already admitted Egg Waitress brought the eggs herself. It was just a matter of time. He took a seat beside the window and meditated, ignoring the cashier’s eyes boring through him.

About an hour before closing, another customer in a shadow cloak crouched through the door. Kat bonked her head on the ceiling before slouching and shuffling over to him. “What’s the plan, you spiky bastard?”

“Waiting for Egg Waitress,” he said.

Kat crossed her arms. “Nunch took a shot in the dark with this, but…do you think she’s the mottled mix?”

Morn rested his boot on his knee. “I HOPE she’s the mottled mix, but I’m going to save her even if she isn’t. Maybe this sounds silly, but…I know what it’s like to love a place and see a home there, but life tells you no. She shouldn’t have to go through that. She DOESN’T have to go through that like I did, because I’m here.”

After a pause, she shrugged and left. What, no name-calling? No head-butting?

Half an hour later, she brought him a burger, fries, and a cola. “Here, jackass.”

He was glad again for the shadow cloak, because the small kindness touched him and surely showed on his face. “Thanks, bitch.”

“No food in my store,” Goldme snapped.

Morn ignored her, devouring his dinner.

Kat grabbed a few sex toys off the shelves and took them to the counter, chatting as she paid. She refused her change. “Look, I know Morn’s big and intimidating, and a fucking stubborn pain in the ass sometimes, but he’s got a big heart too. He cares about people, and he’s not going to hurt your friend.”

“…”

At closing time, Goldme screamed at him to get the hell out. Morn didn’t budge as she shoved against him, trying to push the massive Wrath demon out of his chair. They seemed to realize at the same time that she had a baby bump and was in no condition to be doing this. He wouldn’t move, and she had to give up for both their health, so she shut off the lights and locked him in overnight.

Morn slept a few hours and meditated the rest of the time.

The general was already awake when Goldme opened shop. Kat brought him breakfast and lunch, and he spent the day watching the cashier grow progressively more stressed. She looked like she’d barely slept, pacing and pulling her hair. The closer it got to sunset, the more agitated she became, and that told Morn his patience was about to pay off.

When she made her final hurrah, he knew it’d be within the next hour or two. She called him every insult in the book. Yelled his name repeatedly, like “Look, everyone! Wrath General Morn Ingstar is hanging out in a sex shop like a fucking perv!” Picked up a broom and beat him like a stray dog until she ran out of breath, which just made Morn laugh. She called the cops, but a little flicker of his Pressure on their heads was all it took to change their minds.

Goldme laid her head on the counter for a few minutes before, at about six, sitting up and repeatedly checking the door. This was it.

Red fingers pushed it open. “Hey, Gold-”

“Hey there, new customer!” she shouted with the fakest smile Morn had ever seen. “Welcome to The Lusty Little Waitress! Just because we’re named after a waitress doesn’t mean we allow food in here, haha. You’ll have to take that bag of snacks outside.”

The demoness froze in the doorway, letting the door close behind her. Her left hand was red with blue mottled spots higher up her arm, and red mottling around the blue left side of her face. Even the exposed bottom of her pregnant belly had the same hot and cold mottling from the crystal ball.

This was her. Egg Waitress was Morn Ingstar’s future wife.

Heart rabbiting in his chest, he stood up to say hi, and-…Wait, why was his future wife already pregnant?

Egg Waitress jumped at the fall of his boot, expertly rotating on the balls of her feet to face him, fists up to fight the general—a plastic bag of nuclear eggs in her blue right hand. Wait, why did his wife have Wrath military training?

She really saw him then, pink mood lightning dancing in her brilliant gold eyes as they widened. As Morn’s neck touched the ceiling, the tiny four-foot-two demoness craned her neck back so far to take in the sheer size of him she tipped herself backwards and fell on her ass. Her pregnant belly made a sloshing and clacking sound…?

Oh. Morn’s unborn child was just eggs.

Sorrow washed over him for an instant, but then Morn took a step back in shock, because holy Tabbiramae in a bathtub, that was a fuckton of eggs! Fucking shit, if Morn incubated all those, he’d explode! The thought sent a pang of horny horror straight south.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry, Po!” The cashier apologized, recounting her battle against the general as she dodged around the counter to help her friend.

Po, the mottled Ambrelloshian-Hazaelian mix, waved her off without turning away as Morn’s heart fluttered because he finally knew his future wife’s name. “It’s okay, Goldme.”

Wait. Po had a distinctly male voice. And a male face, now that Morn took another look. And the huge bulge in those jeans looked more like a cock than an ovipositor, because ovipositors typically didn’t come with balls, especially ones that were like…the size of grapefruits.

So this was Morn’s future…husband? Shaken, he stopped to wonder if he was even interested in men. Craving Scimi’s cock under the eggs’ spell was one thing, but a romantic relationship was another. But he didn’t find himself upset, or turned off. And if they weren’t having a child together anyway, why did it matter?

Snapping himself out of it, Morn kneeled and offered a hand to help him up. His future husband let out a little grunt of understanding and offered the eggs.

What? No. Morn gently cupped his forearm and helped him stand, marveling at how dumbfounded the short demon looked.

Goldme flipped Morn off, and Po started an argument with her about why she didn’t just send the general to his apartment, confirming she was a Pride demon. It sounded more like the issue was a regret for troubling others typical of Wrath, rather than a personal humiliation typical of Pride, but Morn still failed to put the pieces together. Maybe Po developed Wrathful tendencies from growing up surrounded by Wrath demons.

He finally thanked her and got her to back off, then returned his focus to Morn. Despite their size difference, he didn’t look intimidated, just…awed.

“Um…Hi,” Morn said, flinching at the way his own voice cracked with nerves. “Name? What’s your…name?” Because Po couldn’t be his full name, and he wanted to know what it was short for. Something Lustful…like Po Tent? Ovi Positor? Sex Po Sition?

Unreasonably shocked, the short demon gave the general a military salute. “Um, honorably discharged Wrath Lieutenant Po Learm, sir.”

Polearm?!

“Y-…You’re a WRATH demon?” Morn squeaked.

“Yes, sir.”

“…But you’re Egg Waitress. You have to be. I heard…” Morn pointed at Po’s lethally huge hoard of nuclear grade pleasure eggs. “Egg.”

Shame wrinkled his face and caught heavy in his breath as Po fidgeted with his shirt. “Y-yeah. That’s me. I…ruined your fantasy, I’m sorry.”

Ruined his fantasy?

It hit him like a spear through the heart that Po had heard Morn assume Egg Waitress was a Lust demoness and decided he didn’t want to trouble his hero by…existing as a Wrath demon.

Morn decided then that he’d fight his way through all nine hells if he had to, if that’s what it took to put a smile on Po Learm’s face.

“No, you’re fine,” he said, confidence rising as his heart swelled with love for his future husband. “I think I’m the one who assumed you were a Lust demoness, and that’s my bad.”

Po choked up, holding back tears.

“You’re not what I expected, but I’m not mad.”

“So I asked if you wanted to move the conversation somewhere private,” Morn said, head resting on Po’s thick thigh like a pillow as they lay on his couch together.

Po pet Morn’s hair with his blue hand and scarfed the last pork dumpling with his red hand, licking his fingers. “Really? I never would have guessed.”

Morn chuckled, and his shaking jiggled Po’s naked leg. “Should I stop?”

“You don’t have to recount every detail of our date yesterday. I was there,” he said, patting him on the head. “Gods, you’ve lived such a storied life.”

“Sorry I rambled so long.” Morn carefully sat up, looking out the window, then at the clock. “Fuck, it’s almost evening.”

“Nah, I loved listening to you. But I’m still confused.”

“About what?”

Po crossed his arms. “Well, you having glimpsed the future makes your hesitance even worse. If you knew I was your future partner, why didn’t you just tell me that so we could’ve stopped beating around the bush sooner?”

Morn rested his elbow on the couch’s backrest. “Yeah, let me just walk up to a guy I’m meeting in person for the first time and be like ‘Hey, we’re married in the future. Wanna come back to my place and lay eggs up my ass?’ Definitely not coming on too strong there.”

He snorted. “Okay, I see your point. On the other hand, I would’ve said hell yes.”

“Course you would’ve,” Morn said, smiling. Then he stared out the window and shook his head. “Sorry I’m so messed up…”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m just as bad. You’re a wreck, I’m a wreck—let’s wreck each other.”

Brow knit with worry, he continued staring out at the city, hesitating.

“What the fuck is the problem? Your life’s story did nothing but reassure me you’re the right man to marry. I’m down for this. I’ve never been more down for anything in my life. Want me to waddle over to the village and buy you a ring? Lend me the money for it and I’ll propose tonight.”

Morn turned toward him. His crimson eyes quivered with uncertainty. “Is-…Is that really okay…? Like am I…allowed…”

“Allowed to what?” Po asked, annoyed.

“Allowed to…want that…?” Morn asked. “Allowed to be…happy?”

Po heaved himself off the couch, pushing aside the plastic bin he’d been laying eggs into for the last few hours. Morn took them to the fridge every so often. “Why the fuck would you not be allowed to be happy?”

“I don’t know, I just-…I don’t know. I think…Well, I feel, um…I’m bad with words.”

He raked his fingers down his mottled face.

“Th-the world…has rules?” He phrased it like a statement, but said it like a question. “There are seven types of demons, and we all have a purpose. Pride demons spearhead our war against the other gods. Sloth demons organize our cities and social structures. Greed demons run the economy and create jobs. Gluttony demons grow and distribute our food. Envy demons manage our healthcare and education. Lust demons keep our population growing and our stress levels low. And Wrath demons protect our borders and fight off monsters.”

“So?” Po asked.

“So…Um…” Morn paused in thought, twiddling his thumbs. “Am I…afraid…?”

He shrugged. “Are you?”

The azure demon nodded. “I’m afraid…that I’m becoming a leech who doesn’t want to do his job…? It’s different. I’m not like you. Your curse gets you a free pass out of that system. Okay, I didn’t mean it like that. Like it’s not easy dealing with what you deal with, I’m not saying it is, but that’s why you shouldn’t have to put up with this bullshit. Society should be merciful to you because you’ve served it and ended up unlucky.

“But I was born with all the luck. Huge. Powerful. Unstoppable Hellfire; people bow to me like a king. I’m a leader, a protector, an adventurer, and a general. Born of rage under the jagged shadow of Mount Tabbiramae and all that. My place in the world is to serve The Clear Sky’s people as a shield. I’m supposed to protect the peace so everyone else can live happily. I’m not supposed to be laughing with them around the coffee table—I’m supposed to be guarding the door.”

Po wanted to protest, but he kept going.

“I think I’m not making progress on becoming an admiral…because I’m not sure I want to know who I AM?” Morn bit his lip, tears welling up in his shimmering crimson eyes. “What if I find out I’m someone people don’t like? You fell in love with Wrath General Morn Ingstar from Conquest, but I don’t wanna be General Morn in the bedroom.”

“Gods, you’re insufferable,” Po sighed, feeling the eggs sliding south.

Morn slumped like his boyfriend shot him. “Sorry…I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. Dunno about all the existential and societal bullshit there, but I can fix one thing.”

Head tilted, he stared at Po.

“Unlike you, I’m GREAT with words,” Po said with a cocky smile. “So I’m gonna clear up everything about where our relationship stands in one question.”

Morn nodded. “Yes?”

“You want ‘em in the front door, or the back?”

“…What?” he asked, blinking.

“The eggs, idiot,” Po said, hefting up his belly and taking his cock in hand. “You gonna suck my dick, or am I fucking you? Bend over, Morn, you egg-loving slut; it’s not gonna pleasure itself.”

He froze.

“Your stomach’s all full of anxiety. That’s no good. I think we need to fill it with ten to fifteen big fuckin’ eggs instead.”

Morn just…gaped at him, eyes shaking as his brain short-circuited. Then he nodded so furiously his head might’ve fallen off. “B-. Uh, um, y-. Yes? YES!”

“That wasn’t a yes or no question! I only have one dick, Morn; pick an end!”

Scrambling off the couch, Morn grabbed Po’s ample ass and lifted him back onto the cushion instead, for easier access. He inhaled his aphrodisiac musk like a man possessed, peppering Po’s naked belly with kisses. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Po. I love you so much.”

Po moaned. “Mm. Enjoy, because I sure will.”

Morn massaged and worshipped his bloated belly for a moment longer before dipping below it to take Po’s cock in his warm, wet mouth. It was the most amazing thing he’d ever felt, that long tongue exploring his girth. Lips gliding up and down his length, slowly picking up speed. Pausing on the way out to lick the head and slip the tip of his tongue into his slit before getting back to it.

“Fuck, you’re s-so good,” Po groaned, melting as he held onto Morn’s wavy hair like reins. “You’re TOO good. I’m already-. I’m gonna-…!”

Cumming hard, Po felt the eggs pour through his cock, straight down Morn’s throat. He didn’t gag, happily slurping them up with a deluge of sweet milk and a pleasured hum that sent wonderful vibrations through Po’s cock until it stopped twitching.

Po came down from his orgasmic high, collapsing as he gasped for breath. “Gods damn, man. Are you sure you’re not LUST General Morn Ingstar?”

“Hehe.~” Morn poked his head around Po’s belly so he could see him. The azure demon was loopy with pleasure, licking every drop of milk off his chin to savor, and…

Jaw unhinged, Po ogled his boyfriend, not sure what he was looking at. “What the actual fuck?”

“What?”

“Do your eyes always do that when you get it on?”

“Do what?” he asked, apparently unaware his eyes had mutated shape into glittering crimson hearts.

Chapter Text

“Teach me how to take a picture with your phone, and I’ll show you next time it happens,” Po promised, frowning as Morn’s eyes returned to normal.

“Okay,” he said, shrugging. Then he got to his feet…and danced.

Magic slid across the hardwood floor. Flickering waves, barely there, of dark water flowed from the living room to the kitchen, and Morn surfed them in his socks like he was enjoying a day at the skate park. The usually brutal and rigid general was suddenly…elegant. Graceful and poised. He slid three laps around the kitchen table, surfing with his eyes closed, dancing in the darkness despite the bright sunlight.

Another wave stole Po’s egg bin and took it out with the tide, carrying them to the kitchen where Morn whisked them into the fridge bin with water whips.

What. The actual. Fuck. Was Po witnessing?

He hadn’t wanted to say anything while Morn was rambling. Didn’t want to interrupt him. Question his character. But now that Po stopped to contemplate it, there was something consistently, insistently, persistently WRONG about Morn’s backstory: his priorities.

See, the joy of growing up in a group of your own type was finding yourself surrounded by demons who were just like you, not because of surface-level things like size, race, or what dangled between your legs, but because a common spirit bound you all to the same passions and inclinations.

After the curse changed Po, he did some research, wondering if it were possible the witch had actually turned him into a Lust demon. And that research reassured him she hadn’t. The type wasn’t just about an obsession with sex. Hell, asexual and voluntarily celibate Lust demons existed, Lust children waited until they were older because consent was important, but were still identifiable as Lust from birth, and all the other adult demon types fucked for fun. Their traits ran deeper beneath the surface than that.

“Morn,” Po started, hefting himself off the couch. “Can I ask you an odd question?”

The azure demon perched on one of the barstools like a bird. “Heh. After talking about all the weird shit I’ve been into lately, is any question too odd anymore?”

He shrugged, shuffling to the kitchen. “WHY were you building a snow demon?”

Head tilted, he thought. “What do you mean?”

“What were the other Wrath kids doing in the snow?”

With a huff, he stared out the window again. “Uh…Building forts and having snowball fights, I guess.”

“Yes, and instead of joining them to prove your strength and courage, show you were an ally instead of a threat, and build camaraderie with your fellow warriors, you were off in the corner building a snow demon because…?”

“Um…”

“For…target practice?”

“No,” he said. “I was lonely. I was building a friend because the other Wrath demons didn’t like me.”

“And you’re sure they disliked you because you were huge and intimidating, and not because you responded to their attempts at bonding by shutting them down and smothering them until they stopped trying to play with you, right?”

Morn worried his lip. “…Man, I don’t fucking know.”

Po tried to climb the stool beside him, failed, and was lifted into the seat by a dark wave. He cleared his throat. “So, Morn…Remember when that other captain brought Nunch to camp, and they said he’d been sent to boarding school by mistake because the mage who appraised his soul was asleep at the wheel?”

“Course I do,” the azure demon chuckled. “It’s my backstory.”

“And that same incompetent mage appraised…” He pressed his hands together and gestured at his boyfriend. “…You?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Obviously she sent me to the right place, but poor Nunch almost had his life ruined by being separated from his sin.”

Oh my gods. OH MY GODS. Never in all his years of arguing with anyone and everyone that Po Learm was NOT a Lust demon did he imagine needing to argue that Morn Fucking Ingstar WAS.

Fuck, if it were just a handful of incidents here or there, Po could’ve excused them, because everyone acted outside their type sometimes. It was a spectrum. People could also lie. But this wasn’t a handful of incidents; it was everything, everywhere, throughout all of it.

Po would’ve taken Han destroying his snowman as an excuse to wrestle his way to friendship with the lonely kid, but Morn took it as a genuine attempt to ruin his art and upset him. No Wrath demon LIKED when nobody messed with them. Po would’ve killed to train with an awesome monster like Nunch, but Morn feared him until he saw his brother hurt like a person. The highlight of the brothers’ hunting trips with dad wasn’t the adventure or the wild beasts—Morn didn’t even bother to describe said beasts or any of his battles—it was eating and sleeping with his family and helping the other demons at camp.

On Morn’s first trip to Wrath City, his favorite things were playing with the other demon types, the pleasure of trying new food, and he especially loved getting candies and kisses from the Lust girls. What about the street-fighting alleys and all the sports parks? What about the arcades? Homeboy didn’t even mention the colosseum!

Even the stick butter. Po’d read it was common for Lust demons, especially young ones, to crave creamy, salty, or slippery foods, like cream, milk, oil, or butter. He’d found a thousand-post thread on a forum of just Lust demons talking about how they grew up sucking on stick butter, hotdogs, and popsicles, craving them like a drug.

Morn had to be talked into training like a fucking chore, while Po had to be forced into peace by a debilitating curse. Being a mix was something that made Morn feel ugly and different, instead of like he’d stolen some of the enemy’s strength as his own through his blood like Po felt. Instead of immediately realizing he’d have to protect his people from Tabbiramae, his first thought was to live peacefully with her.

Only after his father was killed did Morn submit to his future as a General. He didn’t revel in the fight like Po had; he coasted through it on his natural strength and powerful Hellfire for the sake of his loved ones. Fucker didn’t even LIKE his Hellfire enough to let himself feel it until it turned into a sex thing.

The highlights of his promotion to General were befriending the ignis dragons, apologizing to Tabbiramae, and getting made fun of for his weird Hail. And now that Po thought about it, the highlights of Morn’s promotions in general were celebrating with his family and them strangling him for being stronger than they were, not showing off his new strength and rejoicing over how reliable he’d become.

Never would Po bring this up in conversation unless Nunch opened up about it first, because Morn hadn’t intended to imply it strongly enough for Po to guess, and it’d be a violation of Nunch’s dignity, but like…Han raped Nunch that night. And now Po wondered if Morn had internalized sex as a thing where the dominant HURT the submissive. Of course he was boring in bed—he didn’t want to beat and traumatize the Lust Spa ladies.

Maybe he wasn’t even really a masochist. Maybe he thought pain and humiliation were just part of sex, and his Lusty soul craved sex, so he thought he craved pain.

“Strange,” Morn mused, staring off into space as Po stared at him.

“What?”

“I didn’t feel the dread.”

“The what?”

He frowned. “Well, usually when I swallow your eggs, I feel this massive pang of dread, like my body knows I just dropped something dangerous into my stomach. But I didn’t feel it this time.”

Po rested his elbow on the counter. “And that upsets you?”

Morn had to stop and contemplate it. “I…don’t know? I’m a masochist, so it probably should, but…I just feel amazing.” Rubbing his stomach, he moaned. “You make me feel fucking incredible, Po. I wish I could be like this all the time.”

He SHOULD have been like this all the time! This idiot wasn’t supposed to be here battling monsters, he should’ve been working at a Lust Spa filling people with joy and getting filled!

Shit, Po flashed back to Morn’s words on Conquest about not understanding Lust demons and how he feared hurting a Lust partner because he had the violent soul of a Wrath demon, and Po realized HE was the Wrath thug who beat his Lust partner. Guilt ripped through him like a bear’s claws.

“I’m sorry,” Po snapped, heart thundering and breath shallow. “Morn, I’m so fucking sorry I head-butted you this morning.”

“Psh.” He chuckled, waving it off. “Nah, I deserved it. Wrath demons will be Wrath demons and all that.”

Except when they WON’T! Gods, no wonder Ambrellosh said ‘absolutely the fuck not’ to Wrath General Morn Ingstar’s Ascension. She asked who the hell he was, and he gave the soul-gazing goddess the most confidently incorrect answer conceivable.

Nunch was so in touch with his Wrathful soul that he lashed out against the Envy demons until they transferred him to the correct camp, but Morn submitted to everyone’s expectations and fought desperately to cram himself into the wrong box because he thought that would make everyone else happy. But he’d never fit. He was too big. Morn had tamped down his sin, crushed it under his boot like a rotten egg, and he’d spent the last two and a half decades wondering what that smell was.

Fucker wouldn’t accept an apology until he understood how Po had wronged him. Resolving never to do it again, he realized he had to break the news to this poor man.

Taking a deep, unsteady breath, Po clasped his hands. “Um, Morn…”

A knock at the door made them both jump.

“Um, uh, give us five minutes!” Morn yelled, scrambling out of his seat. He grabbed one of those magically stretchy t-shirts they bought yesterday, and a pair of his own shorts for Po. Length-wise, they fit like pants, but they barely buttoned under his belly. The azure demon toweled his face off and cringed at the tent in his pants. He tied a sweatshirt sideways around his waist, over his own t-shirt and jeans, to hide it. “Fine, you can come in.”

The door opened, then closed, and Kat’s evil little snickers crept around the corner as her greedy fingers curled around the entryway doorframe. She poked her head in, hair ruffled with messy tufts sticking out of her bun, eyes bruised with sleepless bags, cackling like a fucking witch. “Kehehehe…I’ve solved it,” she said. “I’ve SOLVED the PUZZLE.”

Morn frowned, his bright flustered face having returned to his usual cold scowling mask. “Who peed in your lemonade?”

“Joke’s on you; I peed in my own lemonade this time.” Kat skittered inside with a big brown briefcase. Although her tank top and jeans were casual, she wore one gold earring with dangling diamonds, like a chandelier hanging from her right ear. Strange.

Po shuffled across the apartment, staring in awe up at the ten foot tall demoness. “Hey, Kat. It’s awesome to finally meet you in person.”

Kat nodded, slinking over and sitting at eye level with him, an evil grin on her face. “Po. Poseph. My most eggcelent friend. How are you?” She gave him a pat on the tum, then pat her briefcase. “I got you something real fuckin’ special.”

He smiled, but wondered what the hell she had in store. “An artifact?”

“Oh, Po. I got you the most factual art to ever fart.”

Morn strode over and whacked her upside the head, although his roughhousing was noticeably gentler than most Wrath demons and looked forced now that Po saw it up close. “Have you slept in the last twenty-four hours?”

“No,” she said, head-butting him full force in the knee.

Morn hissed, holding his tongue.

Po head-butted her full force in the nose, making her drop the briefcase with a squeak. He glared daggers at the pink demoness. “You do not hit my husband.”

Kat shuddered, dropping her gaze like she felt the angry spikes of his Wrathful soul and somehow couldn’t muster the courage to face him despite being a Wrath demon herself. “Yeah, okay. Sorry, Morn.”

He’d meant to pull her aggression onto himself, but that worked.

The azure demon blinked. He looked so fucking confused. “Hey, Po, don’t worry about it. We roughhouse all the time. That’s just how we are.”

“I know how Wrath demons are better than you do,” he said. “Don’t force yourself to pick a fight with her when you don’t like being hit back.”

“I can handle being hit,” he snapped. “I’m a Wrath General.”

“That wasn’t the question. Is it FUN when Kat hits you? Do you feel like you grow closer when you bite each other’s ankles?”

Morn really had to stop and think about that, like he knew the expected answer, but his instincts were sending him something else.

Rubbing her poor nose, Kat noticed him not answering, and her brow furrowed as she stood up. “Uh, shit, I’m genuinely so sorry. I was taught all Wrath demons love beating the crap out of each other, and you’ve never complained, not beyond doing a bit, or so I thought, so I never really stopped to question it.”

He raised one finger to protest, but nothing came out.

“I’m sorry, Morn, I can stop fucking around if you’re not having fun,” she said, wrapping her arms around him for a hug.

Morn just froze, staring off into space, twitching like he was about to explode, but he didn’t argue or push her away.

Po hefted the briefcase off the ground and handed it up to Kat. “Sorry I made you drop this. Really hope I didn’t break anything, and I understand if you’re not so inclined to gift me the artifact anymore.”

“Nah, I deserved that,” she said, accepting it. “Also, if what’s in here broke from a little drop, I’d actually send assassins to gut the guy who sold it to me, haha.”

He laughed with her, but that made him more nervous. “Haha…Was it expensive?”

She sat on the couch and punched in the code for the combination lock. “Oh, Po, my sweet boy. Don’t worry about it.”

Morn helped him onto the couch. “Kat, what the hell did you buy?”

“Alright, so, after our call yesterday, I hopped online and started thinking. Analyzing. Contemplating. Researching,” she said, netting her fingers and staring at the boys over them like a fence. “I asked myself ‘What does Po need?’ Strength, stamina, speed. A way to move the eggs. Somewhere to pump the milk. Some method to tamp down his arousal when he’s out in public. Not to mention he was moving in with a fucking giant of a man into his giant apartment where he might not even be able to climb the stairs and reach the sink.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” Po groaned, leaning back in his seat.

Morn frowned. “I don’t mind helping him.”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be better for Po if he could help himself?” Kat asked.

They both nodded.

“So I revved up my brain. My tiny little bean of a brain. Should I buy him Super Boots and The Hero’s Armbands? Would a Champion’s Belt even fit around, over, or under his big belly? Something with levitation to reach the sink and things, or a Block Scepter that would build platforms for him to climb? Should I be looking for pumps for the milk, or should I go for teleportation plates? I was bashing my head against the wall over this complicated little problem…and then it hit me,” Kat said, pressing her fingers to her forehead. “I was thinking about this wrong.”

Po and Morn tilted their heads, confused.

“Poseph, you don’t need a fucking mess of artifacts to meticulously put on every morning and lose around the house and risk getting knocked off in public or if you get attacked. You need one thing, baby boy, and the GOAT’s got it right here.”

She opened the briefcase and pulled out a smaller briefcase. Then opened that one, pulled out another, then another, then a smaller white one, and it was the fanciest briefcase Po had ever laid eyes on. Pure sparkling white velvet with shining gold trim intricately carved to depict abominations and despairing humans and elves reaching out of the Void Ocean, desperate to pluck an enormous golden bat out of the sky.

Then she opened that with three golden keys and pulled out a palm-sized, egg-shaped flask of the same design. The base was glittering white, wrapped with writhing golden tentacles. Atop it, The Great Bat curled his golden wings around the egg and rested his chin on the narrow point at the peak, guarding the tiny flickering shadow of pure void behind the glass. In gleaming gold swirly cursive, two words were written upon it:

SHALLOWS
WARDEN

“That’s not a Shallows Warden egg,” Po said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Can’t be. They have to be bigger.”

“They are,” Morn said, leaning forward for a better look.

“You’re right. This isn’t a Shallows Warden egg.” Kat’s most evil grin curled back onto her face. “This is the Grenijnian Darkness: Shallows Warden.”

Chapter Text

“The Shallows Warden gets a rep as one of the weaker abominations, but that’s bullshit,” Kat explained, holding the Darkness vial. “People only say that because there are thousands of them everywhere all along the coast and down to the drop-off into the Lightless Trench. A fate worse than death awaits sailors and fishermen who tread there—you can’t explore the Void Ocean at the fuck all if your team can’t fight off an army of Wardens.”

Po drummed his fingers on the couch cushion beside him. “Don’t they fill people with eggs, like me?”

Morn’s ears burned, but he sat quietly beside his boyfriend.

Kat laughed. “Yeah, but they don’t get to come home like you do, they get dragged underwater and injected with a cocktail of poisons that keep them docile as the Wardens slowly destroy their bodies and minds. Awful stuff.”

“Wouldn’t they just drown?” Po asked.

“No,” Morn said, crossing his legs. “The water of the Void Ocean isn’t really water.”

“Yeah,” Kat said. “It’s pure Void Realm, or Dark Realm, whatever you want to call it, if that makes sense.”

“Not really. I’ve never been there, so I don’t know much about it.”

The pink demoness hopped up and went rooting through a cabinet in Morn’s library area. She came back with some paper and pens. “Okay, it works like this.” She drew three horizontal lines. “Reality has three layers that sit on top of each other: The Light Realm, The Dark Realm, and The Soular Cosmos.

“The Soular Cosmos is mostly off-limits to everyone but the gods and a tiny handful of mortals lucky and unfortunate enough to receive Soular Magics. Well-trained mages—like Thro, who I know I fucking sound like right now—can peer into it a little for information, which is how aura-sensing and soul appraisals work, for instance, and we pass through it when we use Ambrellosh’s teleportation magic, but that’s pretty much it for us. Soular Magics that can manipulate it are some of the rarest and most disgustingly overpowered things in existence. Even the Lesser Gods have trouble fucking with it.

“The Light Realm is where we live. It’s the sturdy material existence all around us, and I’m not sure there’s much else I can say about it that isn’t damn obvious.

“Now, the Dark Realm is interesting. The Void Ocean isn’t like the normal oceans to the south. It looks like a dark sea, but it isn’t—it’s where the world frays at the seams like torn jeans. Mortal Magics are stored there, or something like that? Anyway, there’s all kinds of shit going on in the Dark Realm, and the abominations live everywhere all over the world in there, but they can’t interact with us normally. If you wanna see ‘em, you have to either go to the Void Ocean where they can slip out into the Light Realm and risk getting stuck in the Dark Realm as a wandering spirit…or become a Grenijnian Darkness user.”

Morn huffed. “I thought it was Grenijnlijk?”

Kat rubbed the back of her head. “Fuck, maybe it is. I think I’m mixing it up with Ambrelloshian and Hazaelian Hellfires. Gods and their fuckin’ stupid-ass complicated names and magics.”

Po’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the flickering seed of void inside the vial. “So…this is a…Hellfire, essentially?”

“Pretty much. It’s a Mortal Magic—a seed of the gods’ power capable of growing in a mortal soul. Like my Eye Of Opportunity, Morn’s Pressure, etcetera. But instead of manipulating an existing object like an Ambrelloshian Hellfire, or creating your own object to mess with like a Hazaelian Hellfire, a Grenijnlijk Darkness lets you dip into the Dark Realm and draw from its magic.” Kat grinned, then rubbed one of her tired eyes. “You don’t already have two Hellfires, right? Mortal souls can hold two, and then they start to rip open like an overfilled water balloon, so I’ve heard.”

“No, I didn’t inherit or reach the Captain rank, so I don’t even have one Hellfire.” Po’s hands shook as she handed him the vial. He could hardly take his eyes off it. “Fucking hell, Kat. I didn’t even know Hellfires were like…a thing you could bottle and sell. That’s fucking bullshit.”

She laughed, lounging on the other couch across from the boys. “You’re damn right it is, but they’re somewhat regulated because the gods are the only ones who can make and bottle ‘em. That’s how Admirals make hella cash—selling Mortal Magics and Hail Charges.”

“Fuck, Kat,” Morn snapped, wiping the sweat off his brow. “This must’ve been expensive. Like more than our Conquest team combined rakes in over a year expensive.”

“Hahahaha, you have no idea,” she said. “Hellfires start at like fifty-thousand saflecks. Pretty cheap.”

The boys jumped. “Fifty-thousand?!”

“And Darknesses start at like fifty mill. Warden was like…a hundred and seventy mill, which wasn’t too bad all things considered.”

They sat frozen on the couch together, gaping at her like ghost fish.

“Besides some legendary one of a kind treasures, it was one of the most expensive common items in the Greed City Auction House. Those being, in order: Soular Magics, Elven Castles, Garganprisms, active Devil’s Chalices, and Darknesses.”

“You can sell Devil’s Chalices?!” Po squeaked. “There are things more expensive than Devil’s Chalices?!”

Morn jerked forward, hands on his knees. “Wait. You can BUY Elven Castles?!”

Kat pursed her lips. “Mm, not very often, but they pop up every blue moon or so.”

Po handed Morn the vial and hopped down from the couch to grab his egg bin. “Sorry, I’ve gotta…”

“That’s fine,” Kat said, waving as he headed to the medium bathroom.

The egg-laying demon shut the door, dropped his pants, and sat on the sturdy bin like a toilet. He could still hear them through the wall.

“You wanna buy a Castle, Morn? It’ll cost you a kingdom.”

“No, um, I was just wondering. Have they ever sold, uh…Needy King?”

“…HAVETHEYEVERSOLD NEEDY KHHHHH-” She fucking laughed like a maniac.

“Fucking what?! I’m just curious!”

“Oh my gods, that’s almost the Auction House equivalent of ‘I don’t have a hole for this’! No, Moron Ingstar, they’ve never sold one of the most disgustingly overpowered Mortal Magics to have ever existed in the multiverse.”

“…Shit, is it really that powerful?”

“Yes! Fuck do you mean ‘was it really that powerful’? You fall asleep in history class? No, all four major races and their combined army of fifty million warriors didn’t unite to kill one weak-ass little bitch whose powers could be sold for paper cash.”

After he finished laying, Po wiped his dick, pulled up his pants, and waddled back into the living room. “I fell asleep in history lessons. What is Needy King?”

Morn frowned. “…”

Kat wiped her tears and sucked in her laughter. “Needy King was the reason we stole Mount Tabbiramae.”

Fist to his palm, like a judge’s gavel, Po remembered now. “Oh, right! King, um…The ignis king. Dude who used to rule Magma Punk.”

She struck a menacing pose. “Elven Disaster King Of Ignition: Adoranma Roseblight, The Dragon Rider Of Armageddon! Needy King was his fuckass unstoppable stockpiling Castle.”

Scratching the back of his head, Morn paced to the coffee table. “Yeah, he was kinda the final boss of that era.”

“Evil in its purest form,” Kat said, cackling again. “Hellbent on ruling the world, King Roseblight and his mountainous dragon, Armageddon Supreme, scorched the land and brought all the kingdoms to their knees. He was an elf who praised Elder Holy God Harkencastle The Peasant by enslaving every human, elf, and demon he could get his shackles on. The man was a menace. He was THE menace; so vile and insurmountable that his terrifying power and cruelty sparked the other eight Greater Gods besides Harkencastle to unite against him.

“This dude—and he would’ve been a General in terms of like…his level of magical attainment, he wasn’t a god, thank the gods—this dude, in one fight, bodied over five hundred Admirals, cut down three thousand Generals, slaughtered twenty-thousand Captains, and mowed down Lieutenants and Recruits by the millions before The Clear Sky stabbed him through the heart and pinned his corpse to the dragon bone throne in Magma Punk’s burning halls.”

Po shook with a cocktail of terror and excitement, looking up at Morn. “Holy whoa! Is his skeleton still there?”

Morn nodded. “Yeah.”

Kat pat Po on the back and grinned up at his boyfriend. “You should take Po to see it sometime.”

“I’d love to go,” Po said, eyes sparkling.

But Morn hesitated, sweating. “I don’t know…It’s, uh, kinda dangerous, and the dragons don’t like new people…”

“Bullshit it’s dangerous. You take Nunch and Shin into the volcano all the time,” she snapped, squinting at him.

Po blinked. “Nunch can handle himself, but who’s Shin?”

Morn reached out like he was going to strangle her, then thought better of it and put one finger over his lips to shush her instead. “Kat!”

“Shin Obi,” she said, hands in the air. “Fuck do you mean Morn hasn’t told you he has a nephew yet?”

“Morn has a nephew?!” Po stared at them for a moment as the gears in his brain derusted and began to turn. “Nunch has a son?!”

“Dammit, Kat!” Morn snapped, glaring at her. “That wasn’t ours to tell him!”

“It’s not a damn secret! Everyone else in Wrathgard knows!” She kneeled to talk to Po. “Nunch had a one-night stand at a bar in Wrath City around the time he moved into Wrathgard. Bitch got pregnant, dumped the kid on his doorstep, and ran off like a coward.”

Po reeled, waddling to the coffee table. He leaned against it like a full-sized table. “I can’t believe Nunch has a son. Holy whoa. Do I get to meet him sometime?”

Kat grinned. “Course you do. He’s a good bean. Little Gluttony demon boy. He eat. Grows plants in our apartment and eats his greens. I moved in not long after he was born, so I helped raise him. We don’t talk about him on Conquest because Nunch worries the fans will harass the poor kid.”

“Oh, they will. You’re right to hide him,” Po said.

The pink demoness sidled over to Morn. “We should do a Conquest episode on Magma Punk. Fuck on over and jump into the volcano. Fight some dragons and see the Needy King’s skeleton. It’s literally in our backyard—why haven’t we done this adventure?”

Morn broke out in a cold sweat. “Uh, well, it’s not in an Otherworld.”

“Man, we already don’t do every damn episode in the Otherworlds. It doesn’t matter.”

“Um, okay, but, mm, you’ll have to ask Nunch.”

She sighed. Then grabbed the Darkness vial from him and handed it back to Po. “You know what else I’ve heard?” Wiggling her fingers, she tried to sound scary. “I’ve heard King Roseblight’s spirit still haunts these halls, and that only those who can peer into the Darkness can find his treasure hoards.”

Po’s eyes couldn’t sparkle any harder. “Treasure?!”

Arm around his shoulder, she nodded. “Poseph, as a fellow Wrath demon, I know how we are. You don’t want charity. You don’t wanna trouble people. I know you don’t have anywhere near the hella cash to pay me back now, so how about you pay me back later with some of that sweet dragon rider hoard if it exists, ay?”

He nodded, having been read like a book. “And if it doesn’t?”

“Then that’s my bad for betting on it,” she chuckled. “Besides, I want two other things.”

Morn opened his mouth to say something, then stopped, hands over his belly. He was starting to look bloated. Probably glad Kat wasn’t looking.

“First,” Kat said, raising one finger. “I want you to fix this idiot.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Morn snapped, struggling to sound normal.

Dropping the evil smile, she turned so she could see both of them. “Look, we shit on each other for the bit a lot, but Morn’s my best friend. He does a good job hiding it, but he’s always stressed and unhappy, and I’m tired of seeing that scowl on his ugly mug.”

That scowl deepened.

“Did he tell you about…uh…”

“Tristany and the mottled mix?” Po asked, and she nodded in confirmation. “Yep, we’ll be married before you know it. Don’t worry, Kat, I’ve got this.”

They exchanged smiles of determination while Morn groaned in the background, but although Po sounded confident, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what he was supposed to do. Well, he’d figure it out somehow. Now that somebody knew WHY Morn was miserable, his ruined life could be repaired.

“Second,” Kat said. “I wanna see the email from that Greed demon who offered to buy your eggs.”

Po fetched his laptop from his tote bag and brought up the email from D.A. Ney.

Morn gaped. “Fifty-thousand a week?! Uh, when I said I’d double their offer, I didn’t think it’d be like…bankrupt me in a month levels of money…”

“Aw, Morn’s poor,” Kat teased, patting him on the head.

“If he’s poor, then I’m the grime under a peasant’s boot,” Po chuckled.

“I’m not poor. Kat’s a money-grubbing Auction House nerd. Sometimes I wonder if she’s even really a Wrath demon.”

Po was starting to wonder that too, although it might be because of his revelation about Morn. Demons could have interests and hobbies across types, like how Po and Thro enjoyed learning about other worlds and artifacts even though that was mostly an Envy thing for the education, or a Greed thing for the dough.

“Course I’m a Wrath demon—Thro says so,” Kat said, scanning the email. She clenched her fist. “I knew it. Cashmo. Ney. Heir to the Ney Corporation. My arch nemesis!”

Morn frowned. “Sounds like a bitch.”

“Oh, she is. Pretty Pink Flamingo Princess Cashmo Ney is the Greed queen of the Auction House. And a Greed General. She’ll buy your soul for sixty-two cents. You were right not to sign a deal with her asshat dad, Poseph.” She pat Po on the head. “Smokin’ hot demoness though. Super fuckin’ tall. Big honkin’ bazongas.” She clenched her fingers like she was about to squeeze her own little tits.

Not wanting to brag that his bust was bigger and make that a thing, Po set his laptop on the couch. “Yeah, I had a bad feeling about them, but mostly I just wanted to keep selling eggs to Morn.”

“I’m so fucking glad you did,” Morn sighed, cupping his stomach possessively. “Kat, in your opinion as a fuckin’ nerd, what do you think Po’s eggs are?”

She shrugged. “Dinner.”

The boys rolled their eyes.

“But really, Imma go so you boys can eat dinner,” she said, grabbing her briefcases off the floor, except for the fancy white one.

“You could join us for dinner,” Morn offered.

“Nah, I need sleep. Spent all night driving to Greed City and all day driving back.” Kat carried the cases in one hand and pat Morn’s paunch with the other. “Besides, like I said, I know your dinner plans. I know you were havin’ a tasty little snack when I showed up at your door.”

Morn’s ears burned. Mortified, he buried his head in his hands. “Get out.”

“Later, losers,” she said. “Enjoy peering into the Darkness.”

After the door slammed behind her, Po stared down at the Darkness vial in his hands. He traced his finger along The Great Bat’s wing. “Never thought I’d get a Hellfire, let alone something as special as this…But I don’t understand how it’s supposed to be the solution to my specific complicated problem.”

Morn sat on the area rug, rubbing his stomach. “Mm…I think I do. Sounds like you’ll be able to control the Shallows Wardens or something and let them poke into the Light Realm to do things for you. They have dozens of dexterous tentacles. Pure muscle. All different sizes. You’ll probably be able to have them carry you around the house, grab things for you, etcetera. Maybe move your eggs and milk through the Dark Realm? You could teleport ‘em directly into the bin instead of having to lay them all the time. And the Warden has a numbing poison; you might be able to numb your arousal when you’re busy.” He nodded along with his own explanation, eyebrows rising. “Fuck, Kat’s bean brain really worked a miracle here.”

Heart swelling with hope—and belly swelling with eggs—Po clutched the vial and tried to stop his hands shaking. “Sorry if this is too hopeful of me, but…Powers like this are still primarily for fighting, right? Could the Warden protect my sensitive belly? Can I use it in battle? You said earlier that bodies don’t matter at your level—magic does. Could I…go with you…on a conquest of the Otherworlds?”

Brow furrowing again, Morn stopped to think. “Well…I don’t want you to put yourself in danger, but you’re not wrong. You know what? Yes. If you reach a level where I feel I can trust you not to die out there, yes, you can join Conquest Of The Otherworlds.” He smiled as the grin bloomed on Po’s face and milk tears beaded in the corners of his eyes. “I’d love to have you there with me, Po.”

Chapter Text

“Two things before you take that though,” Morn said, resting on his side on the area rug. “First, you’re not going to be magically competent right away, so it might take a while to become independent with your powers. Second, don’t be an idiot like me and get really good at one lame move you rely on for every battle at the expense of all your other abilities.”

Nodding, Po pulled on The Great Bat at the peak of the vial, unplugging the stopper beneath his chin. With its container open, the seed of void floated up through the opening, swirled around Po’s arm, and finally flew at his forehead where it dissolved into the skin with a wave of shadowy magic.

Excited, he put the lid back on and set the empty vial on the coffee table, rubbing above his brow. “What now?”

Morn shrugged one shoulder. “Now you try to feel it.”

Po focused, but wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be feeling.

“It’s okay if you don’t get it right away.” He sat up and pat the rug beside him. Closing his eyes, the azure demon crossed his legs in a meditative pose, and Po plopped down, doing the same. “Picture a vine of grapes.”

Eyes closed too, Po did. He saw a vine of juicy purple grapes in his mind. Tasty. And…a bottle of wine? The grapes were curled around a corked wine bottle, even though Po hadn’t intended to picture that.

The mottled demon felt a strange jolt of power, like a fuse blew in his brain, and he realized there were two tables—the one with the wine and grapes, and a second surface. Mist swirled atop the second table as something took form. A can of strawberry soda, already cracked open, and a cup of the same soda, constantly spilling over.

“Uh,” Po started, confused, opening his eyes. “I feel things other than the grapes. Is that bad?”

Morn frowned down at him. “What do you mean?”

“There’s wine, and strawberry soda…?” He placed a hand over his forehead like checking for fever.

“Ew.” His boyfriend’s nose wrinkled, apparently grossed out by one of those things. He placed his own giant hand over Po’s. “Shit, I don’t know. I’ve only ever felt the grapes.”

He closed his eyes again, trying to grasp what he was imagining. Po felt the strawberry soda…pouring through his veins. Like a bubbling hum of energy trickling down his arms and legs. “I feel it. Holy whoa, I feel it.”

“Good. Keep going.”

Po leaned back, basking in the magic radiating through his body. He felt it turn toward his core and felt it pooling in…uh… “Fuck, sorry, but am I supposed to be feeling the magic…in my nipples?”

Morn blinked. “What?”

Po fucking felt the magic strongest in his nipples, behind his belly button, and down in his prostate, like four concentrated orbs of strawberry energy. It radiated through his milk, filling his breasts, belly, and balls. It felt magical, more sensual than ever, and alarmingly weird. “Am I supposed to feel it in my milk?!”

Head tilted, Morn gently massaged his boyfriend’s belly. “No? Yes? I don’t know. Sorry, I really thought I’d be able to advise you, but I don’t know what’s going on. There are only grapes in my head, and I only feel them trickle juice through my veins on the way out.”

Moaning, Po stripped off his t-shirt and borrowed shorts. He groped at his chest, feeling the energy swirling inside. His erratic focus knocked over the cup and can, and his assets surged bigger. His breasts ballooned several cup sizes, his belly surged a foot forward, and his balls tightened, filling so much he couldn’t contain the milk. Cock and nipples leaking, he shrieked. “Fuck fuck fuck! Oh gods!”

Morn’s eyes bugged out. “Um, uh-!”

“What the hell is happening?!” He held onto his belly for dear life as it expanded out of control, growing bigger than him. Bigger than the giant-sized coffee table. The weight made his knees buckle, but Morn caught him on the fall, squeezing his body and trying to force it to stop. Po felt his fingers pressing into him as he ballooned beneath them, and all the pleasure detonating through his billowing body brought him to a dynamite climax as the cup and can ran dry.

Po felt his magic snap, and strawberry pink smoke exploded out of every hole—mouth, ears, the corners of his eyes, his nipples, cock, and anus—with his orgasm, blasting Morn away from him in the great gust of wind and filling the living room.

The fridge shook.

Po collapsed, but his boyfriend’s dark water magic caught him on a current and lowered him into a pile of pillows at the edge of the area rug.

Morn coughed, swatting the strawberry smoke away from his face as it slowly dissipated, fully dissolving like it had never existed. “Po, are you okay?!”

He hurt. His body ached, but he didn’t think he’d ruptured anything, so he gave the man a shaky thumbs up. “Y-yeah…Ow…”

As he crouched beside Po, they both assessed the damage. He was back to normal size, and he no longer felt the energy orbs inside him. No, something was wrong…Or something was right? He wasn’t back to normal size, parts of him were actually back to NORMAL size! His ass was still fat, and his belly was still big and heavy with eggs, but his balls felt emptier than they had in years, and his chest was flat. Like back to the average flatness of male pectorals.

“What the hell?” Po asked, touching his chest. It ached like the rest of him. Pleasure lingered, but it now mingled with intense pain and overstimulation. He felt like he vaguely remembered feeling before his milk came in during his second phase of change under the curse…

“Ah,” Morn said, clutching his own stomach. “I felt it.”

“Hm?”

“The dread,” he said.

“Okay, that’s strange.” He struggled to sit up, touching his belly. It was smaller, but still a debilitating weight in his lap. It didn’t slosh, just clacked louder than usual, and looked lumpier than before, like all the milk turned to smoke and erupted out of him.

“I know what happened,” Morn said, snapping his fingers. “Alright, this is going to sound stupid, but…I think your milk is a Hellfire?”

Po opened his mouth to argue, but wasn’t sure what to say. Yes, that was stupid, but was it wrong?

“You used it all,” he said. “Whatever you felt, you ran it dry and fizzled out.”

“That’s-…Yeah, that’s what happened,” Po said, scratching his head.

“Wait five minutes. It’ll start refilling. Takes ten minutes after that to reach full capacity, and you should be able to make more milk.”

He nodded, then paused. Did Po want to make more? Part of him missed his pecs. Then again, part of him missed his boobs. Was it only because he was used to them now? Fuck, he didn’t expect a change like this, and he especially never expected to be torn about it. How exactly did it work? Guess he’d have to fuck around and find out.

“In the meantime,” Morn said. “Crush one of the grapes.”

Po took a deep breath and focused on the vine and wine in his mind. He smashed one of the grapes, and a flickering image of a speckled tentacle, black and sea green, just like Morn’s waves, reached out of thin air and pat Po’s belly.

“There it is!” Morn grinned, kneeling for a closer look. “That’s a Shallows Warden tentacle alright.”

Hand shaking, Po reached out and pet the slimy appendage. It wasn’t really solid, but he could sort of feel it. “Looks just like your magic.”

The azure demon frowned. “No. Mine’s water.”

“Yeah, but it’s the same colors, and it fades in the same way.”

“Probably just an aesthetic thing. Mine lets me manipulate people by squashing their souls with Pressure, so it’s an Ambrelloshian Hellfire.”

“No, yours lets you pour watery darkness on people’s heads to squash them, so it’s a Grenijnlijk Darkness.”

“No.”

“Yes!” Po said, glaring up at him. “Morn, how fucking sure are you about this?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but the words got caught in his throat. After a moment to think and a strangled noise, he shook his head. “Pretty damn sure. It’s definitely not a Darkness. Just an aesthetic thing.”

How dense could this man get?

Worse, it worried Po. If Morn couldn’t even process that his Hellfire might be a Darkness, there’s no way he’d accept his Wrathful soul might be a Lustful soul. Ripping off the bandaid wouldn’t do any good when the fucker was waiting with a fresh roll of gauze.

Po needed, um…What did he need? Proof, for one thing. He already knew ‘Hey, you display fifty-thousand common Lust traits and I think you were sent to the wrong camp’ wasn’t going to be good enough for this stubborn bastard. Morn needed his soul reappraised by an expert he trusted.

Thro Wingstar. Po’d ask her to take a look and help him talk to the man when they met her to investigate Po’s condition.

Morn went to make him tea. When it’d been about five minutes since Po’s explosion, he felt the soda can and cup refilling and flipped them upright in his mind so they wouldn’t spill. So those were refilling, but his body wasn’t. Why?

Po focused on his gut and poured from the cup. He felt a ball of energy form inside and settle under his belly button. Then he poured a little more and felt milk gush into his stomach, wetting the eggs like a bowl of cereal.

But he felt no relief from the ache. Hm. Po had to crack open the can again and pour a little from that too. The amount of milk didn’t increase, but he felt the existing milk charge with different energy, and the pain finally subsided. It felt great now. His aches melted away as he filled himself up, and his belly returned to its usual roundness.

Careful not to use up all the soda again, Po created new orbs in his nipples and prostate. He filled them with a little milk until they too stopped hurting, but held back to see if he could control their size. He could. Interesting.

Dirty thoughts crept in as Morn handed him his tea and returned to the kitchen. The azure demon opened the fridge and whined.

“What?” Po asked, lying back against a pile of pillows.

Pulling the three milk jugs, now empty, from the fridge, he let out a pathetic groan. “The milk exploded.”

“Crying over exploded milk?”

He nodded, hand on his stomach. “Thought I enjoyed pain, and I feel like a failure saying this, but I kinda preferred how it made me only feel pleasure instead…”

“Then what the hell are you doing over there?”

“Huh?”

Po hopped up and pointed to the rug in front of him. “Get over here. And get rid of those clothes—I’m gonna use your guts as the new milk jug.”

Morn fucking flew out of his clothes like they were on fire and scrambled over to join him. He was still hard, and hung like a horse, and looked embarrassed about both, squirming when Po stared, but holy whoa, he needed a minute to admire this man in the nude.

His arms, legs, and pecs were ripped, and his abdomen clearly was too before it had to strain around all the eggs bloating him up. Man was just beginning to look pregnant. The spiked stud piercings along his hips trailed all the way down to the base of his shaft in a V shape. Morn’s member was a slightly darker shade of blue than the rest of his body, and Po found himself annoyed that the dildo he bought based on his hero’s skin tone was inaccurate, but he didn’t exactly need that thing anymore when he had the real deal.

“Sorry it’s big,” Morn breathed. “And scary.”

“Who told you that? Did the Lust Spa ladies tell you that?” Po kneeled and gave that monster dong a stroke, stealing a moan from the larger man. “I’m gonna have a ton of fun with this later, hehe.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, what’s the plan?”

“First, let’s get rid of that nasty ache in your belly,” Po said, focusing his magic again. He poured from both the cup and can, filling his chest a size, two, three…Stop! Dammit! His control was pretty poor, and he got bigger than intended.

At least Morn didn’t seem to mind, drooling as he stared at his partner’s nipples, waiting for permission. He was a big guy—he could handle it.

Po smiled, waving for him to have a taste.

Morn leaned in, smooching Po on the lips before trailing kisses down his chin and neck until he reached his red right nipple, then gave it a lick, sending a shudder through Po before he latched on with his mouth and sucked. Po melted into the sensation, closing his eyes and moaning. He gasped as Morn pinched his left blue nipple, apparently not wanting it to be lonely. Fuck, Morn made him feel incredible, alternating sides until he’d sucked both dry, and Po came twice in the process.

“D-damn, you’re amazing,” he said, catching his breath.

“Ohhh, I feel so much better,” Morn moaned, sitting up as he licked his lips and rubbed his now blatantly pregnant paunch. He looked so satisfied, and his eyes became glittering crimson hearts again.

“Right, shit, the camera,” Po said, to his boyfriend’s confusion. “Your eyes are doing the thing again.”

The azure demon hopped up and jogged to the medium bathroom, peering into the mirror above the sink. He turned around, and his eyes had already returned to normal. “I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, they don’t stay long. That’s why I wanted to take a picture with your phone.”

Water whips passed said phone down from the bedroom, handing it to Po. The whip opened the camera app, and Morn explained how to use it. “Don’t share anything, or I’ll…Uh. Usually, I say ‘I’ll kill you’, but I wouldn’t hurt you, Po…Um, I’ll die of shame though.”

“I’ll delete it right after I show you,” he said, sitting down and keeping it beside him. “Come here.”

Morn returned, taking a seat. Po coaxed him onto his back on the area rug, elbows in the pillows, and scooted forward between his legs, a hand on each of his giant thighs to spread them. He still hadn’t gotten to cum. This man had the patience of a saint. Po took a whiff of his musk. Smelled like strawberries.

Shuddering, Morn watched him. “Whatever you wanna do.”

“Well, I’d really like to bone you, but you’ve already taken a lot of eggs.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Wouldn’t complain though. That can be future Morn’s problem.”

“Mm. Still…” Contemplating, Po reached for the Darkness grapes. “Kat said something about teleporting eggs through the Dark Realm, so I should be able to like…summon a tentacle inside myself, right?”

He shrugged.

Po tried. He focused all his intent on a tentacle plugging his exit so the eggs couldn’t escape as he crushed a grape. The mottled demon squealed as he felt something inside him push the eggs aside and squeeze itself into the opening to his urethra. Before Morn could get up to hover around him, he squeaked “I’m fine! I got it!”

Morn lay back, but he looked worried.

“Okay, in theory, my cum will come out when I cum.”

“Good theory,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, but my eggs shouldn’t, so you’ll be fine. Probably. And by cum, I mean milk, because my body doesn’t make real cum anymore.”

“Milk’s great, so don’t worry about it.”

Took that better than Po could have hoped. Seemed like Morn really just didn’t question things.

Po reached down and spotted the flat end of a red butt plug in his boyfriend’s ass. Smirking, he slowly slid it out with a wet squelch, savoring Morn’s moans. Man was absolutely dripping with lube. Smelled like strawberries. So that’s where the scent was coming from. “Look at you. Ready and waiting.”

“Mhm…Just a sec. Having trouble grabbing the lube from the other room. Still training my dexterity.”

“What? Dude, you’ve got a fucking gallon of lube in here,” he said, watching slick pour out of his used hole by the liter.

“No I don’t.”

Po blinked. “Yes, you do.”

“No. I put the plug in raw. That’s why I’m grabbing some with the water whips. Sorry, I do usually use real lube. I know it’s different, even though it looks similar. Dammit, I dropped the bottle…”

Hands on his hips, Po squinted. “Are you trolling me?”

Morn surprised him by looking genuinely confused. “No? Why do you think that?”

Po scooped up a handful of the clear, strawberry-scented slick to show him. “Morn, what is this?”

He grimaced. “Uh, did you want me to go take a shit first? I’m really sorry.”

Frozen, he looked between the slick and his boyfriend.

“Gods, not you too. C’mon, Po, I don’t wanna have the strawberry argument with you.”

“The strawberry argument?”

“Yeah. I joked about it with Kat earlier with the ‘who peed in your lemonade’ line, ‘cause she likes strawberry lemonade.”

Po was so fucking confused.

Morn reached out to him like asking for help. “Please, Po. Strawberries are bodily fluid-flavored. Right?”

“…What?” he asked, gaping at him.

He dropped his head back, covering his face with one hand. “Gods dammit. I’ve had this argument with like twenty different demons over my life, and they all think I’m insane, so I just gave up. Yes, I’ve seen a doctor, and yes, my eyes and tastebuds work just fucking fine, thank you. You all are the crazy ones.”

It took a damn long moment for Po to figure out what the fuck was going on. He peered into Morn’s hole again, still pouring lube. Precum was dribbling from the tip of his cock, but it wasn’t actually precum, it was clear and strawberry scented. It was lube. Po held up the handful of slick again. “These are your natural bodily fluids…?”

“Yes! I don’t understand why everyone trolls me about this!” He sighed. “Sorry if it’s gross. I mean, everyone tells me piss, shit, and cum are gross and I just take their word for it.”

Po just…stared at him for a minute. “Morn, have you ever shown this to a doctor?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because most people’s bodies don’t fucking make strawberry lube! People aren’t trolling you, they’re confused, because their fluids don’t do this.”

Morn’s brow furrowed. Then his ears drooped, and he looked mortified. “I-…Well, it’s just-…I mean, what the fuck comes out of your holes when you use the bathroom then?”

“Milk, because I have a-…” Po froze. “…Morn.”

“Um…” He began to hyperventilate.

His eyes darted back and forth, flickering to hearts, and Po finally saw Morn’s magical quirks for what they were. He grabbed the phone off the floor and snapped a picture, made sure he caught the heart eyes, and turned it around to show him—to a wide-eyed, nose-wrinkling gawk of pure existential horror.

“Morn…Do you have a Lust curse?”

Chapter Text

“No! Of course I don’t have a Lust curse!” Morn snapped, snatching his phone and inspecting the photo. “D-did you edit this?”

Po gaped, flabbergasted. “Did I EDIT this? In the two seconds between taking the picture and showing you when I’ve never used a smartphone before?”

“Um, uh…M-my eyes don’t really look like that,” he insisted, grabbing at his face like he could take them out and examine them. “Right?”

“They really do,” Po said, still watching the azure demon from between his legs. “I’d assume your eyes and fluids are from the same curse. How long have you been like this?”

“My whole life,” Morn said. He opened his mouth to say something else, then apparently thought better of it and looked away.

Po’s eyes tightened. “Let me guess; you were about to say ‘sorry I’m disgusting’ or something like that, then realized I’m in the same boat and you’d sink us both. Replace your butt plug with a cactus, asshat.”

Morn sighed, sinking back into the pillows on the area rug. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I wanna say you’re not disgusting, and I am because I’m different, but I can’t think of a good reason to justify that…”

Thinking, Po drummed his fingers along his boyfriend’s thigh. “You said earlier that you didn’t want to take advantage of me in my cursed state. Would you consider me to be taking advantage of you now that we both know you also have a curse?”

“Of course not,” he said, no hesitation, but then stopped to think. “I don’t know. Objectively, I don’t know, but I guess I don’t give a shit for the same reason you didn’t. Because I’m just…like this, and you have no idea how much it’s helping keep me calm that you’re not freaking the fuck out right now.”

Po nodded. “You want to step away to process this, or continue what we were doing?”

“We should…probably step away.”

“I didn’t ask what we SHOULD do, I asked what you WANT.”

Morn frowned at his boyfriend, then down at his hard cock laying against his bloated belly. He sighed. “Well, I wanted to do this, but I completely understand if you’re no longer up for- AH!”

Po shoved his cock into the azure demon’s drooling hole to shut him up. He wrapped an arm around each of the giant’s thighs to adjust his angle, sandwiching Morn’s dick between their bellies, and he fucking went to town, pounding into him with wild abandon.

The big, tough Wrath demon composure Morn always wore melted away, leaving only his blue-blushing, heart-eyed, true Lusty self clutching the rug as he panted, moaned, and cried out for more. And Po obliged, hammering his prostate until they both came—once, twice, thrice, four times. The tentacle inside him stopped the eggs from flowing out, and each round bloated Morn’s belly with more milk.

With an exhausted gasp, Po came a fifth time, pouring his magic into his balls and coming so much milk it fucking inflated Morn’s belly like a balloon and he choked as milk gushed from his mouth like a fountain.

Finally they both softened, and Po pulled out, rubbing his own overly full belly. “Egg break. Ow.”

“Uh-huh,” was all Morn could manage, panting and twitching on the rug with his eyes stuck as delirious hearts and his tongue lolling out.

Po waddled to the bathroom and squeezed out like sixty eggs into his bin. He was a bit overstimulated, so it wasn’t particularly pleasureful, but the relief was immense. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d intentionally come while stopping himself from laying.

After that, he returned to the living room to assess the damage. Morn was completely wasted. He looked full term pregnant, caressing his swell and moaning, drenched in sweat and all the lube he’d poured over his belly as he came against it. Man needed some aftercare.

Popping a mind grape, Po ordered a tentacle to bring him a towel. It brought him a bottle of hair gel. Great.

He walked back to the bathroom and got it himself, along with some wet wipes and a bottle of lotion. Returning to Morn, he put the butt plug back in him—to a gasp of pleasure—and started cleaning him off, along with the carpet under him so he wasn’t lying in it. Maybe someday Po’s magic would be strong enough to carry Morn to the tub to clean him more easily.

“Sorry I’m a mess,” Morn said as the high wore off and anxiety trickled back in.

“Nonsense,” Po said, pecking him on the forehead, both cheeks, then the lips.

Although his brow was still knit with worry, he cracked a smile. “You’re not seriously gonna argue I’m not a mess.”

“No, I’m going to argue there’s nothing wrong with being a mess. There’s nothing wrong with your body. You’re a beautiful, loving, passionate man, and you deserve to be yourself, get as messy as you want, and be loved for who you are.” He stroked Morn’s long, elegant ears, then cupped his face and kissed him on the lips again. “I love you, Morn. I love that you took care of me, but I want to get stronger so I can take care of you too.”

He choked up, tears glistening in his eyes. “Do I deserve that?”

“Yes,” Po said, squirting some lotion onto Morn’s mountainous middle and massaging it into his skin. “You’re a good person who deserves to be treated how you want to be treated.”

“Isn’t it shameful for a Wrath demon?” Morn let out a breathy sigh, enjoying the belly rubs. “Like not-…You’re an exception, but I’m a huge, terrifying retired Wrath General.”

Po thought about saying no and arguing that the people who didn’t think a Wrath General was worthy of being cared for were cowards, but he wondered if now might be the time to start poking. “Morn…have you ever wondered if you’re…not a Wrath demon?”

His brow furrowed. “Of course I am. The mage who appraised my soul as a toddler said so.”

“The same one who said Nunch was an Envy demon?”

He looked away as Po pet his hair. “That’s different. Nunch is-…I mean, I was the strongest damn demon in my entire Wrath camp. Even stronger than Nunch, and he’s a monster—like in a good way. Of course I was one of them; I was the best of them.”

“Wrath isn’t about pure strength,” Po said. “If it were, most Pride demons would make better Wrath demons than most Wrath demons.”

Shuddering, he frowned. “Fair enough. Pride demons are terrifying. Civilian ones like Goldme are fine, because they’re pretty harmless, but the warriors are so aggressive I don’t know how they can even tolerate each other.”

“Have you ever wondered if you’re a Pride demon?”

Morn looked at him like he was insane. “Gods no, I could never. They’d eat me alive.”

“Probably. Let’s go the other way around the soul color wheel. Have you-”

The smartphone rang, interrupting their talk, and Po groaned.

Morn tried to sit up, failed, and placed his hands on his belly. “Ohh…”

“I’ll answer it,” Po said, picking it off the floor. The ID picture was of Nunch inhaling a bacon cheeseburger, and his nickname was ‘Elven Dumbass King Of Ignorance: Ado-ramen Buttmunch’. Po snorted, confused but amused. Maybe the brothers had taken a recent interest in Wrathgard’s history. He’d love to see Morn’s nickname on Nunch’s phone. Po hit the green button and the speaker button, deepening his voice to mimic Morn. “Hey, this is totally Morn Ingstar. What’s up, bro?”

“Who the fuck stole my phone?” Morn Ingstar asked on the other end. He sounded so convincingly like Morn that Po had to check and make sure the real one was still there on the area rug.

He was. Morn snorted over their exchange.

“Hah! Sorry, I’m fuckin’ with ya,” Nunch said in his normal voice. “I’m assuming this is Po Learm. Guess who’s dumb ass forgot to check his texts until now?”

Po chuckled. “Gods, it’s such an honor to meet you, Nunch. I’m a huge fan of Conquest. It’s been my favorite thing in the world since I was discharged from the Wrath army, and it’s genuinely saved my life.”

“Cool, cool. I’ll make sure to slurp up some of that life debt juice through a crazy straw later. First of all, is Morn okay?”

Morn groaned.

“He’s, uh, recovering,” Po said.

Nunch snorted. “From all the eggs you made him lay today?”

Blushing, his brother looked away.

“Not yet,” Po said, shaking his head and remembering Nunch couldn’t see the gesture. “They have to grow to the size of melons over like twelve hours, so probably tomorrow morning.”

“The size of-. HOLY FUCK. MELON-SIZED?!”

“Po, no!” Morn gasped, ears burning dark blue.

Po choked. “Sorry, my bad.”

“Holy Ambrellosh in an ashtray! Dude, I thought they were like little marbles that ooch ouch on the way out, not fucking melons that snap your pelvis in half! How are you alive?!”

“D-don’t worry about it,” Morn snapped at him, rolling over so he could get up. “We’ll get dressed if you wanna come over for dinner and meet Po. We got, uh…distracted. Still haven’t eaten.”

Po drooled. “I would kill for some dinner right now.”

“If you don’t mind…you know…” Morn grimaced down at his bulging belly. There was no way in hell he was throwing an oversized sweater over that thing and pretending his egg-laying boyfriend hadn’t used him as a cum dump.

“What, that you’re blatantly eggnant? You honestly think I of all people give a damn?”

“No,” he said.

“Because of the Shallows Warden incident?” Po asked. “That’s my favorite episode.”

Nunch wheezed. “Why the fuck-? You know what, forget it. Morn, uh…how much have you told him?”

“My entire life’s story,” Morn said, heading for the bedroom to grab clean clothes. “Censoring some parts about you. I rambled all morning and afternoon.”

“And I loved every second,” Po said.

“Okay, so you know about Tristany.”

He grinned. “Yep. I’m gonna buy a ring to propose as soon as I get the money.”

Morn called down while rooting through the closet. “I’ll lend you some. There’s a jewelry store in the village.”

Nunch chuckled. “So he’s really the one then?”

“Yep.” Morn passed Po a fresh t-shirt, briefs, and sweatpants, then threw on his own boxers, stretchy shorts, and that oversized sweater. Thing fit him like a bedsheet, yet did nothing to hide how blatantly pregnant he looked. Gods, Po was so proud of how thoroughly he’d destroyed Morn’s waistline. “I know it hasn’t been long, but I just love everything about him, and we have this…connection.”

Po shrugged into his own clothes. “Guess that’s the power of a glimpse into the future.”

He smiled. “It’s not just that. It’s also how you refuse to humor my bullshit and get straight to the point.”

“So you trust him?” Nunch asked.

Morn did the same thing Po kept doing, nodding and then seeming to remember Nunch couldn’t see. “With my life.”

Joy swelled in Po’s heart. Gods, he was so honored.

“Okay,” Nunch said. “Then I’ll trust him too.”

Eyes flying open, Morn stopped like a record scratch. “A-are you sure? Fuck, man, you still don’t even trust Kat.”

“Huh?” Po asked. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah, well, Kat’s a sneaky-ass bitch who doesn’t trust me either. She’s also dumb as a brick, and I have no trouble slipping away when I need to even though she lives with me. But you’re not as good at keeping secrets, Morn. You’re gonna let something slip, if you didn’t already by telling him your entire life story, and if you trust him with your life story anyway, then I trust him with mine,” Nunch said, and Po’s heart thundered from the determination in his decision. “Besides, it’s a damn fine opportunity to Flag him.”

Po tilted his head. “Flag…?”

“He feels he owes you a life debt,” Morn said. “Can you even Flag someone harder than that?”

“Sure I can.”

“Oh!” Po slammed his fist to his palm like a judge’s gavel. “Is this what you meant when you said he fucked Ambrellosh?”

Morn sputtered.

“When I fffjklsdk-?! Morn, what’ve you been telling him?!”

“Not that!” Morn said.

“No, yeah, that one was my bad,” Po laughed. “He censored parts of your conversation after The Clear Sky denied his Ascension, and I filled in one of the blanks with my mind in the gutter where it always is.”

“Hah! Damn, I WISH I’d got to bang Brello. She’s one fine-ass beach. But anyway, yes, I’d like to come over for dinner and meet Po. Just, uh, debating how…casual I want to dress.”

“You can dress casual,” Po said.

Morn worried his lip. “Well, I mean…Po’s not quite like you? But kind of similar? Uh, I think he was born male, but he’s got a pregnant-looking belly and boobs, and he gets harassed for them a lot.”

The egg-laying demon raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah. ‘Not a demoness’ is probably my most said line of all time, along with ‘not a Lust demon’, ‘not a Gluttony demon’, and moaning Morn’s name.”

Choking, Morn buried his face in his hands.

“Hell, if he’s got big honkin’ bazongas too, I’m not gonna bother to bind or pack. I’ll be right over.” Nunch hung up, and Morn put his phone to sleep.

Fully dressed, Po stared up at him as they shuffled across the apartment together. “Bind? Pack? Are those more magic words?”

“Uh…” If Morn had been thinking of an answer, he forgot to say it as his belly sloshed and clacked with every step, distracting him. Flustered, he pulled at his sweater, trying to make his eggnancy less obvious, but he was too damn round, and growing rounder.

They heard the front door open and close, Nunch waltzed around the corner like he owned the place, and Po’s eyes about popped out of his head at the sight of him. “Hold your applause,” he said, pausing in the entryway door. The crimson demon man wore an orange spaghetti strap tank top that showed off his perky breasts, and tight-fitting pajama pants that made it clear he didn’t have anything dangling between his legs. “I am, in fact, a man with melons.”

Po blinked, trying to understand what he was looking at. “Well, they’re more orange-sized, at least proportionally, but…”

Nunch grit his teeth. “Excuse me? Listen here, Cantaloupes, you come into my neck of the woods and make fun of my orchard, you’re in for an ass-whooping.”

“Both of you calm your tits,” Morn said, crossing his arms over his belly.

Staring between them both, Po gaped. “Why does Nunch have tits? Did you Borrow a woman’s body?”

“No,” Nunch said, gesturing to himself. “This is MY body. I Borrow a male body for Conquest—or I bind my chest and pack a fake dick in my thong.”

Morn pat Po on the shoulder. “Biologically speaking, Nunch is a demoness, but he’s a man on the inside.”

“I’m a trans man,” Nunch said.

“Oh!” Po got it, nodding. “You’re like the opposite of Goldme’s girlfriends—they have dicks, but they’re mentally women.”

He gave a thumbs up. “Yeah.”

He frowned. “Isn’t it uncomfortable though? Sorry, I ask because of how distressed I felt when my body changed, and I didn’t have money or powers to do anything about it. Can you not Borrow a male body permanently?”

“Course I can, and I’ve perma-Borrowed some of my bone structure to look more masculine. Borrowed my voice from a friend at our Wrath camp; and yes, our conversations do sound like chats between two NPCs with the same voice actor. But I won’t perma-Borrow a male body because I like my oranges.”

Po tilted his head, trying to understand. “Why hide it then?”

“Because I don’t want to fight every stranger over my oranges.” Nunch slumped against the wall. “With so many people out there, you’re not allowed to just HAVE oranges, no no no, you have to live the orange LIFESTYLE. You have to eat orange slices and drink a glass of orange juice with every meal. You have to speak in orange puns and roll down the street like an orange. And you have to wear nothing but orange, so everyone everywhere all the time knows you are an orange-haver. Everyone will refer to you by your oranges. Oranges are more important than your soul. Oh, your favorite color is green? FUCK YOU. Your favorite color is orange, and we’re gonna strip your human rights until you admit it.”

Although Po chuckled, he did so with an edge of exhaustion. “Fair. I get it. I would’ve hidden my cantaloupes too if I could have…” Then a thought hit him. “Hold on. Fucking hell, in the Shallows Warden episode, the girls had this entire bit where they beat the shit out of you saying like ‘now you know what women have to go through’.”

Nunch cracked up laughing, slapping his knee. “Yeah, pretty fuckin’ ironic, huh?”

Morn shifted uncomfortably. “I-I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t just have embarrassed or outed him…”

“Bah, water under the bridge. That’s what I got for refusing to tell my own friends the truth about Shin.”

Po blinked. “Your son? Kat said you had a one-night stand and his mother just dumped him on your doorstep and left.”

“Yes, she told you that because that’s the story I tell everyone, so I don’t have to fight them over my oranges. But that’s not really what happened,” Nunch said. He pat his lower abdomen. “I had Shin.”

Jaw unhinged, Po gasped. “Are you fucking kidding me?! They kicked your ass for not understanding what women go through-”

“When I’m the only member of the Nunch Box who’s actually given birth? Yeah,” he laughed, hands over his stomach and forehead as he cracked up. “It wasn’t funny at the time, but it’s hilarious in retrospect, ain’t it?”

“Yes! Oh my gods, who’s the fa-.” Po stopped cold as a realization hit him like a morning star to the skull.

“He’s a deadbeat dad,” Nunch said, his good humor clouding with discomfort. “Like he’s literally dead—Morn bashed Han’s brains in for assaulting me.”

Chapter Text

“Gods, I’m so sorry that happened,” Po breathed.

Hands clasped behind his head, Nunch shrugged. “Nah, I don’t wanna be treated like a victim over it. Also part of the reason I don’t tell people what really went down. Han’s dead, Shin isn’t him, and that’s all that matters.”

Morn returned from the kitchen with a glass of juice and a family-sized bag of chips for Po. “Don’t tell anyone about what really happened. It’s a secret.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Po said, chugging the juice.

Nunch cracked a smile, eying his brother’s belly. “Look at you though. You look just like I did. Bro, Cantaloupes wasn’t kidding about those eggs.”

Cheeks burning, Morn tried to adjust his sweater so that it hid his belly better, but he was too big. “Sorry.”

“Wh-. Sorry?” he asked, confused. “The hell are you apologizing for? You spent nine months taking care of me while I blew up like a balloon. Put up with my jank-ass mood swings. Called the Kitchen Service for me in the middle of the night for my fucky little cravings ‘cause I was too embarrassed to be seen with a baby bump. You watched me scream and cry through labor while you brought me things and held my hand, and your pansy ass is embarrassed by a few eggs?”

Po raised his finger. “Seventeen, I think. Might’ve lost count.”

Nunch reeled. “Gods above, my holes hurt just thinking about that.”

Morn slumped, staring at the floor. “I worry…it’s insulting? You endured so much pain and humiliation…and I’m over here doing it for fun.”

“Fuck off. I was pained and humiliated because I had to talk myself down from believing Han had won by ‘teaching me my biological purpose’, and I spent every day dreading I’d look at my child and see my abuser in his face. This is different. Cantaloupes and his giant pelvis-breaking eggs make you happy, and you don’t have to be ashamed of that.”

Clutching at his stomach, he teared up, holding back the waterworks.

“I’m sorry we made fun of your egg addiction on Conquest,” Nunch said, rubbing the back of his head. “We’re assholes. Ignore us. You do what you want, Morn, and we’ll be with you every heavy, waddling step of the way.”

Morn nodded. “I…want to take a shower before dinner. Still feeling…sticky. If that’s okay.”

“Course,” he said.

After Morn excused himself to the large bathroom, Po waved and took a step forward to follow. “Gonna join him. Be back soon.”

“Hold up.” Nunch grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him back. “I wanna talk to you.”

Po crossed his arms under his cantaloupes. “About what, Oranges? Sorry, you called me Cantaloupes, but if that’s not okay to call you Oranges, I won’t.”

“Nah, I don’t mind teasing, long as it doesn’t turn into bullying,” he said. “But anyway…I said your eggs make Morn happy, but it’s more than that.”

“If you’re wondering if they’re an actual drug he’s addicted to, I wouldn’t know. They’re from a witch’s curse, and I barely understand them myself.”

“Mm. We can ask Thro. Might invite her to dinner with us if Morn’s cool with it, but…Ack, how do I put this? I’m almost as bad at wording as Morn is.” Crouching with his elbows on his knees so he was at Po’s level, Nunch tapped his chin, deep in thought. “So…You know how I say sometimes on Conquest that Morn never gets sick? Because he never catches colds, or gets food poisoning, or anything like that. His physical state used to not change much. But over the last few months, I’ve started to wonder if it’s the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like Morn’s BEEN sick his entire life, and we all just shrug it off as his norm. Like he doesn’t act the way he does because he’s just an irritable asshole workaholic by nature. Has he always acted that way because he’s been in pain?

“Since he started taking your eggs, they’ve been like medicine to him. Like he feels better when he takes them, and he looks healthier. That’s why I was so aggressive to get him dating Egg Waitress, even if you hadn’t turned out to be the mottled mix—there’s something RIGHT about what he’s doing. It shows all over his face, and the rest of us feel it when we spend time with him soon after his eggings.”

Po twiddled his thumbs, pacing to the couch to take a load off. He had a hard time climbing up, so before Nunch could help him, he summoned a tentacle, steadied his foot on it, and had it lift him up to the cushions. He was awkward and unsteady, but he made it. “Actually, even though I don’t know how the eggs work, I have a theory for why Morn enjoys them so much.”

“Lay it on me,” Nunch said, joining him.

“So, the mage who was ‘asleep at the wheel’ and mistakenly sent you to boarding school was the same mage who appraised Morn, right?”

“Oh no!” He raked his fingers down his face. “I didn’t wanna talk about Hilary. C’mon. She’s my sleep paralysis demon. Swear I wake up at three in the morning sometimes and see her hanging from my ceiling.”

Po snorted. “Hilary?”

“Stageplay Angel, The Cardboard Cutout Hero. The mage who appraised us. Morn apparently doesn’t remember her, and I haven’t been inclined to remind him, because she’s creepy as hell. Oh, Cantaloupes, she was so much worse than asleep at the wheel. But also I know where you’re going with this, and I don’t know if Hilary’s fuckery is enough to justify that train of thought, because I was, uh…complicated.”

“Okay, well, explain.”

“Dad pulled us out of some rubble from a burning village, I think. Been a long time, so the memories aren’t very clear. But I remember meeting the creepiest fucking woman in the world—Prowess user who looked like an angel painted on cardboard, with empty eyes and mouth like a comedy mask—and she split us up and sent me to Envy City’s Boarding School For Jealous Youth.

“Hated it there. Everyone hated me. I was more excited about fighting than learning, and when I learned what a Wrath demon was, I told the teachers that was me. But they didn’t believe me, so I had to act out, scaring everyone and destroying their stuff until they finally took me seriously and got rid of my violent ass.

“And I loved Wrath camp. Sure, I was smarter and less rowdy than the other kids, but they weren’t afraid of me and didn’t hate me for my violent and annoyingly protective nature, so I settled.

“But after the Chalice Cheer and the Han incident, I started to have…doubts. I wasn’t as excited to get stronger and get back in there as I thought I should’ve been as a Wrath demon. Brought it up to Scimi, described the mage I remembered, and he told me about Hilary.

“Apparently Stageplay Angel’s a fucking lunatic human mage who pretends to simp for demons, robs us blind, and stabs us in the back. She’s wanted for grand theft, countless assaults, mass murder, and smelliness in the Pride, Sloth, Envy, and Lust capitals.

“So I about shit my pants and fucking ran to Sir Knowl Edge down at the Wrathgard library to reevaluate my soul. Turns out…Hilary wasn’t entirely lying?” he said with a shrug. “I am apparently split half and half between Envy and Wrath.”

Po’s jaw about hit the floor. “Holy whoa. I knew some souls could swing hard toward the next closest type, but I didn’t know they could be split across the wheel like that.”

Nunch nodded. “It’s apparently super rare and unusual. Point is, Hilary wasn’t completely full of shit. As half an Envy demon, she wasn’t wrong to send me to boarding school, even though I, as half a Wrath demon, couldn’t stand it. If you’re gonna argue that Morn was misclassified, you’re gonna need more than that to go on.”

Fingers netted, Po perched on the couch cushion and eyed him sideways. “Oh, I have more than that. So, how much do you understand about the types?”

He shrugged. “The basics. Pride demons are offensive warriors, Wrath demons are defensive, etcetera…”

“No no, okay, so you don’t understand them.” Biting his lip, he had a tentacle plug him inside and endured his regularly-scheduled orgasm.

Nunch noticed, but seemed to already understand Po was just…like that, probably because of Kat, so he didn’t comment. “Psh. And you do? Mr. Full Wrath Demon is more educated than half an Envy teacher?”

“Yes, because I did this research after I was cursed to reassure myself I hadn’t lost who I was somewhere among the mountains of eggs, and I hadn’t. I’m no longer a defensive warrior, but I’m still a Wrath demon.”

“Why? Not condescending, genuinely curious.”

“We are not our jobs,” Po said. “We are assigned jobs based on what our souls commonly value because that increases the likelihood we’ll enjoy ourselves and stick with them. As half an Envy demon, you half value sharing knowledge. That much is a fact. That doesn’t make you a teacher, and not being a teacher doesn’t make you not half an Envy demon. But it does mean you’d probably half enjoy being a teacher—which is why you’re the one who prods Thro for the most exposition.”

Nunch slumped on the couch. “Guess that’s true. Continue.”

“The Soular Spectrum is a color wheel, and types are assigned by the closest color. While everyone acts out of type at times, especially within the next closest colors, everyone’s priorities are generally consistent, even if they didn’t grow up in their type’s culture and don’t work in any of their type’s common jobs. Everyone kids about surface-level things like Pride demons being aggressive, Greed demons pinching pennies, and Lust demons being sluts, but those are just jokes and stereotypes. What really matters is everyone’s core value.

“Red souls are born of Pride. They’re proud, dignified, decisive spirits who value self-improvement and taking action.

“Orange souls are born of Sloth, who combine Pride’s decisiveness with Greed’s cunning to make spirits who value organization and leadership.

“Yellow souls are born of Greed. They’re brilliant strategic spirits who value gaming the system and working smarter instead of harder.

“Green souls are born of Gluttony, which combines a lot of Greed’s brilliance with a little of Lust’s connectedness, creating spirits who value a deep connection with nature.

“Teal souls are born of Envy. They combine a little of Greed’s curiosity with a lot of Lust’s sensitivity to create spirits who value spreading knowledge and bettering their people as a whole.

“Blue souls are born of Lust. They’re caring, sensitive spirits who value loving and being loved above all else, craving connection, community, and pleasureful experiences—which aren’t necessarily sexual.

“Violet souls are born of Wrath, which combines Lust’s sense of community with Pride’s desire for self-improvement, creating spirits who strive for strength to protect their loved ones.

“Then it loops back around to Pride.”

Nunch hunched on the couch, chin resting on his fingers, taking that all in.

“Let me give you an example: Han and I were both pure violet Wrath demons, who both found ourselves in relatively the same situation, and handled it mostly the same way until the end.”

He flinched, obviously confused where this was going.

“We both found ourselves growing close with someone we were deeply attracted to, who we perceived as suffering because they were lying to themself about their fundamental being and purpose. Because we were Wrath demons, inclined to use our confrontational nature to protect our loved ones, we both decided we knew better than our loved one about what they needed, and sought to shift their understanding and change their behavior to stop them harming themself.

“The difference between us? I’m better educated and more attentive than Han, and I care about Morn’s consent. I don’t have to change his mind and shouldn’t be striving to, because he already knows something is wrong, already knows what he wants, is afraid to say it, and just needs someone he feels safe to be himself around.

“You tried to be yourself, told Han what was wrong, and what you wanted. Han swung too hard toward Pride, didn’t listen, decided he still knew better, valued your oranges above your soul, and he died for it.” Po clenched a fist. “Different in execution, but foundationally the same.”

Nunch bit his nail. “Fuck, I really wanna argue you’re nothing like Han, but in that aspect, I’M like Han. I’ve done that with Thro. When she got injured by those cultists, I told her to chill and let me protect her because I’m the better fighter, and she slapped me. Shit.”

Po nodded. “Typical Wrath behavior from you. Pride-swinging behavior from her, taking your protection as an insult.”

“Ack.”

“Now here’s a question,” he said. “What does Morn do when people offer to protect HIM?”

Nunch snorted. “Morn doesn’t need protection. Have you seen the man?”

“That wasn’t the question. Regardless of how little he needs it, how does he react to the offer?”

“He…doesn’t get the offer very often,” he said, thinking. “The only time I can think of is when Merang offered to protect him from the slaver raid, and Morn offered to help fight. Morn’s always protected the rest of us. He’s always striving to get stronger to defend us and all of Wrath City, and doesn’t that make him a Wrath demon?”

“No, because we are not our jobs,” Po repeated, finally cracking open his bag of chips. “Does he protect everyone because he’s a natural born protector like you and me who revels in being his friends’ shield, or does he do it because he believes that’s his assigned role in the community? Is it what his instincts tell him to do, or did someone he loved give him an entire talk about the nature of evil and why the world needs great warriors like him?”

Nunch opened his mouth to say something, then didn’t.

“Oh, and wasn’t the other highlight of that talk when his loved one told him he was beautiful for being a genetic declaration of peace between the four races? Because that’s not a very Wrath thing to cry over,” Po said. “You’re also a beautiful mix, Nunch.”

“Sure am. My blood stole some of their power to protect my own,” Nunch said. “But seriously, he shows plenty of Wrath traits, and even Pride traits. He’s got a prideful soul that loves challenges.”

“Does he love challenges, or does he love spending time with Kat and puts up with her challenges because that’s what she likes to do? Because Pride demons love challenges as an excuse to build strength and prove themselves, and they tend to brag more, like ‘fuck yeah, I beat your stupid challenge into the dirt because I’m invincible’. They don’t go ‘sure, I did the challenge because I said I would, and it was fine’. Also, Pride demons wouldn’t let Kat bully them into things like she does—they’d put her in the mud for daring to try. Wrath is between the extremes of Pride and Lust, where we revel in winning, but not in beating others down.”

Sweating, he pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. “Shit. Fuck.”

Po dumped some chips in his mouth and chewed. “Oh, can I also point out even just tonight, it sure wasn’t very Pride or Wrath of Morn that he was more excited to invite you and Kat for dinner to meet his new boyfriend, rather than ashamed to be shown off as that boyfriend’s personal egg basket. Some demons are proud of their sexuality—like Goldme—but Morn isn’t. He’d just rather be ashamed than alone. Unless he feels threatened, like you’ll stop loving him if you realize he’s not the mask he wears.”

“No no, I see it now,” Nunch said, sliding off the couch and collapsing on the floor, fingers digging through his hair as he thought this through. “Holy Brello in a bathtub, he’s a Lust demon.”

“That’s my theory anyway. I’m not a soul appraiser. Oh. Right, I didn’t think about it at the time, but I actually saw Morn’s soul, I think, when we teleported to the twelfth floor, and he was deep blue.”

Smartphone in hand, he flicked through his contacts and found his girlfriend. “We need Thro.”

Guzzling chips, Po nodded.

Her nickname was ‘the girl of friends’, and he’d caught her picture smiling with a sunny side up egg in her mouth. Adorable. He called her, and she took a couple minutes to pick up. “Hello? What’s up, Nunch?”

“Thro,” Nunch gasped. “We need you.”

“Okay, well, I’m at McDemons. I just parked and am getting dinner, and then I’ll drive back to Wrathgard.”

“Oh, pick us up dinner too. Me, Morn, and Po. You’ve still got my credit card, right?”

“Yes. Po? Po Learm?” She gasped. “Egg Waitress!”

“Hey, Thro,” Po said. “It’s awesome to finally meet you.”

“I’m eggcited to meet you too! What do you want?”

Nunch grinned. “Bacon double cheeseburger, with double the bacon and double the cheese.”

“I’m not picky, but I eat for like ten people,” Po said. “Double Morn’s usual order or something, since he’s eating for eighteen—himself and a whole bunch of eggs.”

Thro laughed. “Morn Eggstar! Okie dokie.”

Morn sauntered out of the bathroom in a clean sweatshirt that did an equally terrible job hiding his tum, with a towel around his neck to stop his dripping hair from soaking it. “Huh? Did you call me?”

“No, we called Thro,” Nunch told him, sticking on a fake smile. He was blatantly nervous. “She’s bringing dinner and gonna examine Po.”

And reevaluate Morn’s soul.

“Okay,” Morn said.

Half an hour later, Thro let herself in, skipping through the entryway door with three big bags of fast food. “Hey, guys. Hi, Egg Wait-”

Po saw the moment his aura hit her. The cyan demoness broke out in a cold sweat, almost dropping the bags.

“O-oh,” she gasped, as her golden eyes widened like dinner plates, zeroing in on his big belly. “Uh…Hm…What have you, um, got going on in your guts…?”

Chapter Text

“That’s what we wanted to ask you,” Po said, hands on his belly as it sat heavily in his lap. “I have no idea what’s going on in my guts.”

“But first,” Nunch said, hopping up and giving his girlfriend a kiss on the cheek. “Dinner.”

“Dinner,” Po and Morn agreed.

Thro passed out the burgers. Po devoured one before Nunch even got his bacon double cheeseburger’s wrapper off.

“The hell is this?” Morn asked, staring at his nine burgers. His lap was occupied, so Thro had stacked them in a little pyramid on top of his tum. “This is way more than I ever order.”

“You’re eating for eighteen,” Thro said, smiling.

Burning with embarrassment, Morn leaned back and covered his face with his hands.

Nunch chuckled. “Can Morn even eat like that? I didn’t think about it until now, but wouldn’t he be like me after the Shallows Warden incident where the egg took up my entire stomach and I couldn’t swallow the omelet?”

“N-no, I can,” Morn said. He reluctantly picked the top burger off the pyramid and unwrapped it. “I don’t digest the eggs, so I should still eat.”

Watching Morn eat was more delicious than devouring his own meal. Po watched his boyfriend wolf down the first burger, then a second, and a third. They were small for him, but still a lot from the sheer quantity. He stacked the fourth and fifth and ate them both at the same time.

By the sixth, Po was missing his mouth each time he tried to stuff his own burgers in it, smearing ketchup and mustard all over his face, and he was no longer listening to Nunch and Thro’s conversation. By the seventh, Morn was starting to look a little sick, but he saw the way Po admired his distended stomach and forced the seventh, eighth, and finally ninth burgers into his bulging belly, slumping back and struggling to catch his breath as the wrappers scattered on the couch around him.

Enthralled, Po scooted over so he was pressed against Morn, leaning in to rub his stuffed tum. “Gods, you’re so fucking cute when you’re huge.”

Mouth full of burger, finishing his last bite, he only answered with a groan, but his eyes mutated into hearts as he looked down at his boyfriend.

Nunch spotted those hearts and choked.

Thro covered her mouth with her burger.

“What?” Morn asked, swallowing. “Sorry I’m gross…”

“Hold the fucking phone,” Nunch snapped, lowering his bacon burger. “You have Hazaelian Heart-Eyes?!”

He blinked, eyes returning to normal. “…What?”

“A common Lust curse in the Hazaelian Empire,” Thro said.

“Never brought it up before because it’s embarrassing and I thought it was just me,” Nunch said, tossing his wrapper in the empty takeout bag. “Look look, I can do it on demand.” He focused, fingers to his temples, and his eyes mutated into orange hearts.

Morn gaped. “WHAT?”

Thro tapped her chin. “Since both of you have it, the curse is probably genetic. Your mother or father must’ve had Heart-Eyes.”

“Is it dangerous to Po?” he asked.

Po waved it off. “Psh. I’m already cursed with something much worse.”

“No, it’s not dangerous or contagious,” Thro said, shaking her head. “In fact, despite calling it a curse, most Hazaelian Lust demons see it as a blessing. Many of them use their heart-shaped eyes to express love for their families, partners, and children.”

Morn breathed a sigh of relief. “So we’re both totally fine?”

She scratched her head. “Well, you can’t sire children because all your bodily fluids are lube, but other than that…”

“I thought about having it removed,” Nunch said. “But I changed my mind when Knowl explained it. I like my lube. Had Knowl change it to orange flavor though.”

Po smiled, sipping his large cola to wash down the burgers. “So all it does is turn his eyes into hearts and his fluids into strawberry lube?”

“Yep,” Thro said, sweating. “Aaaaand gives him an enchanted uterus.”

Po spit his cola.

Morn blinked. “What?” He looked at his choking boyfriend and wheezing brother, then back at Thro. “Uterus? That dangly thing in the throat?”

“No,” she said. “That baby-making thing in the vagina.”

He stared at her like she’d just spoken gibberish. “Well, I don’t have one of those, so I’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Mm, well, yours would be attached to your lower intestines.”

“…But I’m male.”

“Which is why it’d be attached to your lower intestines. The curse grows the victim a uterus if they don’t already have one.”

Morn’s brow knit. “But I don’t have a vagina.”

“Did you listen to anything I just said?”

Po caught his breath. “Hold the fuck on. You mean Morn can get pregnant?”

“No,” Morn said.

“Yes,” Thro said.

“No!” He stood up, scattering burger wrappers, and Po heard the eggs clack inside him.

Nunch choked down his laughing fit, eyebrows raised as he looked at Thro. “Are you serious? Really?”

“Yes, really.” She too stood up, pulling her cyan wallet from her pocket. It was covered in enchanted runes—an artifact—and she turned it over and magically dumped out a familiar machine a hundred times the wallet’s size. It hit the ground on its wheeled base with a startling THUD. Po recognized it from his only doctor’s appointment. “I stole an ultrasound from the Medic Bay if you wanna see.”

Po hopped up, cradling his belly. “Egg break. Be back in a few. Don’t finish looking without me.”

He sat on his bin in the medium bathroom, listening to them argue with Morn to lie on the couch and stay the fuck still while the eggs poured out.

Po returned to them having chained his wrists and ankles to the armrests. Morn looked like an angry dog at a vet appointment, seething with demonic rage and growling up a storm as Thro pulled a tube of gel from her enchanted wallet.

“Oh, can I put the gel on?” Po asked, joining them.

Thro smiled. “Sure. Here you go.”

“Gel?” Morn asked.

Tentacle lifting him up, Po stood on the cushion and slid Morn’s sweatshirt up to his ribs, exposing his belly. Man looked like he could drop twins any minute. His anger tore away like a shadow cloak, leaving him blushing and reluctantly heart-eyed. He tried to move his arms, assumedly to put his shirt back down, but couldn’t, and that seemed to turn him on even more. Morn squeezed his legs shut, and Po took note of that for later.

He squirted some gel on his hand and spread it over Morn’s belly as the azure demon bit his lip and struggled not to moan. Po knew the cold-resistant Ambrelloshian mix wouldn’t be bothered by the cool gel, so Morn was just enjoying the belly rubs.

Thro booted up the ultrasound machine and grabbed the wand. “Now, let’s see…” She pressed it to the underside of his gut and started searching his innards on the screen, humming.

Morn squinted at it. “Do demons always do this at the doctor’s? I haven’t really ever been there for a checkup.”

“Only when they need a peek inside,” she said. “Here it is!” The cyan demoness pressed a button, and the machine printed a sonogram. She showed Morn, Po, and Nunch the clear picture of a uterus.

“Oh my gods,” Nunch sputtered. “He’s just like me. Sort of.”

“I am not!” Morn said, gaping.

Po bit his lip. “Wait, does Thro know now…?”

Nunch nodded. “Oh. Yeah yeah, I told her during our first date. She knows two of my secrets: that I’m a trans man who had Shin, and I’m half an Envy demon.”

Thro nodded.

“But there’s a secret third thing that only Morn and Shin know.”

She kissed him on the forehead. “Is it that I’m cute?”

He smiled. “Cute as a boot.”

“A BOOT?” she asked, pouting.

“Yeah. Like one of those Christmas boots full of candy.”

Morn was still glowering at the picture like his own organ was an enemy to be cut down on the battlefield. “That’s not part of my body. Did you edit this?”

Thro double-took at him. “Excuse me? You think I modified the sonogram fresh out of the ultrasound machine?”

Po shook his head. “I’m convinced Morn has no idea how image editing works.”

Nunch chuckled, and his humor spread to Thro and Po.

“Hee haw, let’s all fucking laugh at fat, slutty Morn Ingstar,” Morn snapped, teeth grinding and crimson eyes blazing with anger. “Worthless fucking failure of a Wrath General’s got a Lusty addiction to pleasure eggs, a Lust curse, and a fuckass uvula. What next? Gonna tell me I’m literally just a soft, stupid little Lust demon?!”

Choking, his brother raised one finger. “Um…Actually…”

“Fuck do you mean UM ACTUALLY?!” He pulled at his chains with such force the others heard the couch’s wooden frame crack.

Thro backed away quickly.

“Calm down, Morn,” Po told him, hopping down to the area rug.

“I will not calm down!” he growled, breaking the couch to rip his arms free, but he struggled to sit up to remove the chains around his ankles with his belly in the way. “I’m a fucking Wrath demon, and I’m not gonna take the implication that I’m a damn liar lying down!”

Nunch grit his teeth. “Look, I’m not calling you a liar—I’m blaming the mage who appraised us. I know I’m complicated, but I think she really just lied about your soul and sent you to the wrong camp.”

“Just because she had to make a decision and chose poorly doesn’t mean I’m not a Wrath demon, asshole!”

“I’m actually the one who brought it up,” Po said, hand to his heart. “It’s complicated, but all through your backstory, you kept having reactions and making decisions based on Lust values.”

“Shut up, Po! I only tried the Lust Spa like twice!”

“It’s not about sex!”

Morn rumbled like a volcano about to erupt, crimson eyes on fire like he could barely see the others through them.

How souls worked was they rested in the values of their true color, but they could ‘swing’ out to other colors when they felt they had to. The closer the other color, the easier it was to swing there.

Feeling threatened, Morn swung to Wrath.

Nunch raised his fist. “Shut up and listen to us, fuckass!”

Morn poured on his Pressure. Nunch and Thro buckled, and even Po felt a force from above knock him on his ass in a pile of pillows. It squeezed down on his belly, and he came a stream of eggs into his sweatpants.

Shit. Fuck. No, it was okay. Swings were exhausting. Morn couldn’t maintain this anywhere near as long as an actual Wrath demon—he’d simmer down in a minute if they just endured.

Shaking, Nunch stopped himself from being brought to his knees by sheer force of willpower. “You bastard…!”

“Soul appraisal,” Thro choked, and the pressure let up slightly. “I’m a mage. I can reevaluate your soul right now and confirm your type.”

Pressure dissipated. Morn still shook with rage, but he nodded, sitting half up on the couch with his legs still chained..

Po breathed a sigh of relief, and Nunch stood back up, helping Thro to her feet.

She crossed the room and undid his chains so he could sit comfortably, then raised her hands to Morn’s chest. They glowed with ethereal light as she searched his soul for the truth.

“You are,” Thro said as a big smile stretched across her face and she gave him two thumbs up. “A Wrath demon.”

Po and Nunch choked. WHAT?

“Within you burns the pure violet, violent soul of a Wrath demon warrior. You live to protect Ambrellosh’s demon people from the ruthless humans, sinister elves, and hungry monsters that plague this world. Morn, you are a shield that protects the innocent from evil.”

Morn calmed, catching his breath. “Damn right I am.”

Wait.

Hold on.

Um…

Had Po been wrong? Something didn’t feel right about this, but…he didn’t want to pull a Han and refuse to listen when someone tried to warn him he’d been mistaken.

Having stopped swinging toward Wrath, Morn’s anger crumpled. He clutched at his sweatshirt, staring horrified down at Po and what he’d just done. “S-sorry. I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to-…Sorry…” He turned around and booked it upstairs, slunk into his walk-in closet, and slammed the door behind him.

Fuck, Po had to swing. Arguing with Morn wouldn’t do any good. He had to swing to Pride and double down that Thro and her stupid appraisal were full of shit because things just didn’t line up with Morn’s personality, or he had to swing to Lust and accept the situation, and his Wrath partner, for what they were, having faith in Morn’s mage friend.

While he was paralyzed with indecision, Nunch turned to his girlfriend. “Thro, be honest with us.”

Thro pouted. “I’m always honest!”

“Did you lie to my brother just now?” he asked, swinging to Pride. “Sure, yeah, you’re a mage and we’re not, you can see souls and we can’t. Fine. But everything Po said earlier about how souls work made a lot more fucking sense than Morn blatantly sharing Lust values and acting like a Lust demon at rest when his soul’s supposedly purple. Are you fucking with us?”

The air fizzled out of Po like a balloon as he shook the eggs out of his pants. “You know what? I trust Thro to be honest,” he said, swinging to Lust. “It doesn’t really matter to me what Morn is. I love him, and I just want to understand how I can get that love through to him so he can love himself too.”

Gold eyes flickering between her angry boyfriend and Morn’s resigned boyfriend, she took a moment to mull over a decision. Then she sighed. “Fine, yes. I lied to Morn just now. While his soul is slightly more purplish than tealish, it’s still distinctly blue, and he absolutely should have grown up at the Lust City Oasis learning to be an artist, performer, spa worker, or prostitute. He survived Wrath camp because he’s naturally gifted, but he’s not a Wrath demon. Within Morn Ingstar weeps the beautiful blue soul of a Lust demon lover.”

Nunch slapped his own thigh, furious. “Then why’d you fucking lie to his face?!”

Thro teared up, hands clasped to her chest. “You saw how angry he was. How hard he was swinging toward Wrath. I was scared, so I told him what he wanted to hear.”

“You’re a Wrath demon—grow a backbone,” he snapped.

Po picked up his eggs. “Reel it back, Nunch.”

Nunch bit his tongue.

“Thro, you have to tell Morn the truth,” Po said.

She frowned. “With how sensitive he is about it? No way. He’ll feel like he wasted his whole life playing Wrath demon. He has a whole friend group of Wrath demons he’ll be ostracized from because he isn’t one of them.”

“He’s not a piece of cardboard, Thro,” Nunch said. “He’s not gonna blow over in the wind. Maybe he’ll be upset for a hot minute, but he’ll get over it and come out stronger after the storm.”

Po shook his head. “Nunch and I won’t abandon him over this. I’d like to think you, Kat, Scimi, and Bug won’t either. Maybe some of the others will, and maybe the Conquest audience will be mad, but we’ll get to those speed bumps when we get there. He needs to know, so he doesn’t KEEP wasting his life and continue making friends who won’t accept the real him.”

With a tremendous sigh, Thro nodded. “Okay. Let’s tell him.”

The three of them headed upstairs. Thro opened the closet, and they found Morn lying on the floor in back, wrapped in a blanket and ugly crying. He startled, hiding his face in the blanket.

“Morn,” she started, speaking softly as if to a child. “I’m sorry. To calm you down, I lied.”

“…”

“You do have a blue soul. You are a Lust demon.”

“…”

Nunch took a deep breath. “Morn…”

“No, that’s enough,” Po said, walking into the closet. “He knows. He just needed to know he’s right and there’s no point in lying back to you about it.”

They waited in the doorway.

Po kneeled beside Morn, patting him on the arm through the blanket. “You’re okay, Morn. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Yes there is,” he said. “I’ve wasted my life. I’ve lied to my friends. Lied to The Clear Sky.”

“The Clear Sky understood, and your friends will too. Your life wasn’t a waste, but something needs to change. Take your time deciding what.”

He shook, sobbing.

“I forgive you for the Pressure thing. All you did was squeeze out some eggs, so no hard feelings. Was kinda hot, to tell you the truth. But we’ll discuss stuff like that alone, when you feel better.” He stood up. “I’ll give you some privacy. If that’s not what you want, you can call me back whenever you want. I’ll be just downstairs.”

Morn groaned.

Po gave him another pat and retreated, summoning a tentacle to close the closet door.

Nunch perched at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, brow knit with worry. “He gonna be okay…?”

“I’ll make sure he will be,” Po promised.

“In the meantime,” Thro said, walking up to him and poking his egg-filled middle. “There’s something else I need to appraise.”

Chapter Text

Nunch helped Po into a chair at the kitchen table.

Thro stood in the middle of the living room. She clapped twice. “Maid Brigade!”

Crimson light formed a familiar maid—the living doll from Morn’s story who cleaned up after his Hail incident. She brought her rigid plastic arm up in a salute. “Reporting for duty!”

Eyes sparkling, Thro clasped her hands and sang out like she was performing an opera. “Hello, Glo!~”

“Hello, Thro!~”

“How are you today?~”

“I’m feeling great!~”

They danced together in the living room, and Po smiled, charmed by their enthusiasm. Two demonesses perfectly in sync like they shared a soul.

“Okay, clean up Morn’s apartment so he and Po can sleep comfortably after I’m done examining these eggs,” Thro said.

“Yes, mam!” She whipped out her scrub brush and carpet cleaner and went to town on the area rug and pillows.

Thro joined them in the kitchen, kneeling in front of Po. “Now, let’s take a closer look at those eggs.”

He nodded, sitting still as she lifted his shirt and pressed her glowing hands to his belly. Po had thought being examined would feel strange, but he didn’t feel much at all.

When she was done with that, she went to the fridge where Po had dumped the eggs and grabbed one out of the bin. She brought it to the table to examine in the same manner, hunched over it with her hands glowing.

After that, she pulled a small machine from her wallet. Oh, it was a microscope—Po saw one at a store once. She tried to fit the egg under the scope, but the space was too narrow. Instead, she grabbed a small plate from the cupboard, cracked the egg’s contents onto it, scooped a little onto a clear plastic strip, and examined that under the scope while Po and Nunch watched.

Thro looked up from her work. “Po, tell me exactly what happened.”

Rubbing his middle, he reluctantly thought back. “Well, I was cursed by a witch.”

“When? Where?”

“Eight or nine years ago,” he said. “Up in the north forest around the foot of the volcano. Wrath General Guill O’Tine sent me and two other Lieutenants to chase her off because he didn’t like how close to the city she’d set up shop.”

“What was she selling?”

Po blinked. “What?”

“At her shop,” Thro asked. “What kind of items did she sell?”

Nunch leaned back in his chair so far he nearly fell over. He’d Borrowed a flat chest in front of the maid, but returned to normal as she trudged upstairs to clean up the bed Po’d soaked last night. “Sounds like more of a metaphor that she was just chilling too close to the city.”

“No, she did actually have a shop,” Po said, having not really thought about that since the incident. “She sold, um…incense, crystals, and body piercings?”

The crimson demon man snorted. “Morn ‘n me would’ve liked to shop there. He loves his piercings. Likes shiny crystals too, but he thinks it’s embarrassing for a Wrath badass, so he doesn’t own many. Eh, maybe that’ll change.”

“Still waiting for the episode where you make Morn try weed,” Po snickered.

“Bah. I asked, and he already has. Would still be a fun episode though.”

“Can we get back to the topic?” Thro asked, smiling, but clearly irritated. “Was she selling plain crystals, or were they shaped like something?”

Po had to really wrack his brain, because he hadn’t spent much time looking at the shop, and any interest he’d had in it had been overwritten by what happened next. “Um…Yes? Uh…They were…they were…” Thinking about crystals, he flashed back to the Crystal Caverns on Conquest. No, no. These were different. Wait, were they? “Hm…Well, I could be mixing this up with Conquest because I don’t really remember, but I think she sold little crystal sculptures of dragons?”

Eyes widening, Thro nodded. “Was she using her own merchandise? Like did she wear piercings and crystal jewelry, and was she smoking or burning incense?”

“Yes!” Po said. “Um, she was a tan elf woman covered in piercings kind of like Morn, with necklaces and bracelets in rainbows of gems and crystals, and she was smoking a really long pipe when we showed up.”

Nunch jumped out of his chair. “Hold the fuck on. You said she was a witch?”

“Yeah. Well, the General said she was a witch.”

“Fuck what the General told you. Throw out the word ‘witch’ for a minute,” Nunch said, swinging his hand at the lidded trash bin like literally throwing the term into the garbage. “Because ‘tan smoking elf covered in piercings and crystals’ sounds like a damn Dragon Rider.”

Po’s heart about jumped out of his chest. “What?! No, absolutely the fuck not. I’d definitely remember if she had a dragon with her.”

One of the spaghetti straps of his tank top had slipped down, and he snapped it back into place. “Dude, you realize dragons and their riders aren’t joined at the hip, right? They’re telepathically connected or something, so the Rider can park outside a populated area and head in on foot.”

Since Po was stunned stupid, Thro spoke up instead. “Wow, Nunch, I sometimes forget how studious you are.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Haha. Well, that’s from bein’ half an Envy demon, I guess.”

“How much do you know about Dragon Riders?” she asked.

“Too much,” he said, looking sheepish.

Po swallowed. “You guys don’t really think she was a Dragon Rider, do you?”

Nunch hummed. “Well, take it with a grain of salt. Or a chunk of molten rock. They have a specific aesthetic, but following that aesthetic doesn’t make you one of them. Morn’s a pierced elf mix who enjoys crystals and smoking, and hell, he’s pierced like a Dragon Prophet specifically, which is one of their higher ranks. But he hasn’t tamed a dragon, so he’s not a real Rider.”

“Do real Riders even still exist?”

Thro nodded, removing the eggy slide from the microscope. “Sure. Mostly the other types—Sol, Fulmen, Silva, Aqua, Nix, and Nox—hidden away deep in Elven territory. But even a handful of Ignis Riders still exist from King Roseblight’s era. Elves can live for hundreds or even thousands of years.”

“Yeah, they don’t exactly like hanging out here,” Nunch said. “Admirals also live for hundreds or even thousands of years, and they still remember the tyrant of Mount Tabbiramae. Lotta dragons still get hunted out of fear, or for sport. Which is also part of why none of the Captains or Generals around Wrathgard have the balls to become Riders. That, and apparently the Ignis dragon introduces itself by laying a smoldering hot egg up your ass. Real fun profession. Honestly surprised Morn didn’t go for it.”

Po bit his tongue. “Mhm.”

“Admirals are actually just immortal,” Thro said. “They’re gods.”

“You know what I meant.” Excited, Nunch ran to the library area and grabbed some scrap paper and a box of crayons. He threw them on the table next to Po. “Can you draw her? Could probably tell you from her piercing patterns if she was legit or full of shit.”

Fuck, Po really didn’t want to, but he needed to know. He stood on the chair, grabbed the crayons, and made a bad child’s drawing of the witch, accidentally doodling her head too big and her ears longer than her torso. He destroyed the brown crayon making her chocolate brown hair as dark as he could get it.

It was difficult to remember the exact pattern of her piercings, and he told Nunch he probably had the number of studs wrong, but he remembered enough to get the idea down. Specifically, she had chains draped between the studs lining her ears and the ones under her eyes, and a small hoop in each color of the rainbow pierced through her lower lip.

Nunch leaned over his shoulder as he scribbled, staring at the poorly drawn elf. “…I’ve seen this bitch somewhere.”

Mouth covered, Thro’s eyes darted between him and Po. “Where?”

“Somewhere,” he repeated.

“Where somewhere?”

“A place.”

Po shook his head. “So you don’t remember. What about you, Thro?”

She shrugged. “Hm, well, I’m not sure. I’ll have to do some research and get back to you on Monday.”

Groaning, he raked his fingers down his face and sat back down in the chair. “C’mon.”

Nunch picked up the drawing and pointed to the stud chains. “Look, I know I said I could tell you if she was legit or full of shit, but I don’t know. Homegirl was either super ultra mega legit, or an entire sewage plant, because these chains mark her as Elven royalty. You drew a Royal Prophet Dragon Rider, Po. And there are only so many of those, right?”

Thro bit her lip.

“C’mon, you know,” he said, poking her with the piece of paper. “Thro always knows.”

Po clapped his hands and chanted. “Thro always knows! Thro always knows!”

Pretty soon, he had Nunch doing it too.

“Thro always knows!” they both cheered. “Thro always knows!”

Flustered, Thro sat up straight and blew air out her nose. “Okay. I think the witch might have been…Mollinacht!”

Gaping, Po hopped up from his chair. “Egg break. Also, holy shit!”

“Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” Nunch hissed, stealing Po’s seat.

He passed the maid, Glo, on her way to the front door. They waved to each other, and Po hooked a right into the bathroom and shut the door.

“So, you’ve heard of Mollinacht?” Thro asked.

“Damn right I have. One problem: aren’t they a prince?”

“What?”

“Prince Mollinacht. I thought he was human royalty.”

“What? No. Mollinacht’s an Elvish girl’s name. Specifically a royal name, and giving it to commoners is frowned upon in Elvish culture.”

“Oh. Well, when Morn and I were twelve, our camp got overrun by human slavers. They rounded us up and said they were gonna show a few of us to Prince Mollinacht.”

“Are you sure they didn’t say Princess Mollinacht?”

“No, it was definitely Prince Mollinacht.”

“Nunch, you were stressed, since your camp was invaded. You must’ve heard wrong when they said Princess.”

“I…Fuck, I don’t know, maybe I did, if you’re that sure.”

Po pulled his pants up and waddled back to the kitchen. “No, Morn also said Prince. I don’t think they both would have misheard.”

Thro looked frustrated, huffing with her arms crossed. “Okay, well, fuck Prince Mollinacht. He’s not who I’m talking about, if ‘he’ even exists. I’m talking about Elven Disaster Queen Of The Glade: Mollinacht Emilia Silverneedle, The Dragon Rider Of Prophecy. She’s probably new Mollinacht’s grandma, or something.”

“Makes sense,” Nunch said. “I have heard the elves, especially the royal ones, tend to pass on the same handful of names from their ancient saints over and over. Like Florian, Hollister, Quillin, Adora…”

Summoning a tentacle, Po had it hand him the drawing from the table. “So the witch’s name is Queen Mollinacht…”

“Possibly,” Thro said. “Queen Silverneedle was cast from her Elven throne after she gave the prophecy of the Needy King’s return.”

“Return?!” Po squeaked.

Nunch crossed his arms, looking away. “Haha…There’s a prophecy about that? What, is the world doomed?”

She shrugged. “All I know is Queen Silverneedle was a seer who declared the Needy King would return one day to take Wrathgard in his iron fist again. She wasn’t even King Roseblight’s supporter, but the other Elves stripped her of her powers and threw her to the wolves for daring to spout such blasphemy. She later ended up captured by humans and tossed into a slave auction where she was sold as a sex slave to some human king, apparently.”

Po frowned. He looked at the drawing again, feeling a tinge of pity for the elf before he remembered again how she’d ruined his life.

“Wow,” Nunch said. “That’s one sucky end for an Elven queen…”

“No, it’s okay, she got a good ending. She was said to have mysteriously disappeared—which, in retrospect, means she escaped—and the city was overrun by one of the Hazaelian armies.” Thro smiled, clapping her hands together. “And her only son was sold as a sex slave.”

“Fuckin’ what do you mean that’s the GOOD ending?!”

Giggling, she bonked herself on the head. “Whoops. Think my strings got crossed there.”

Po shook his head, pacing in front of the window wall with the drawing, staring out over the city as it glittered in the darkness. “So Queen Mollinacht came to Wrathgard…why?”

Thro pulled more things out of her wallet—a series of vials, tubing, and needles. “To tell you that, first I’ll need to draw your blood.”

Nunch ran to the table and scribbled all over a sheet of scrap paper until he blunted the red crayon. He held it up proudly. “I drew it first.”

She picked up the crayons box and hit him over the head with it.

Laughing, Po let her poke his arm, filling the vials with fresh blood. She held one up, staring so close her eyeball almost touched the glass, humming in dissatisfaction. Thro returned to the table and dripped some on a plastic slide, slotting it under the microscope. She bit her tongue as she zoomed waaay in, examining the hemoglobin or whatever. Dissatisfied with that too, she took one of the vials to the stove and poured it out in a frying pan, heating the burner. Nunch and Po stared at her like ‘what the fuck is this demoness doing?’ as she cracked one of his eggs into the pan and fried it.

A few minutes later, she plated the bloody egg and sat at the table to stare at it like it’d kicked her dog.

Po stood on the chair again, nose wrinkled. “I don’t even think Morn’s that adventurous an eater.”

“I do not like red eggs and ham,” Nunch said. “I do not like them, mam.”

“Listen,” she sighed. “I have a process.”

“You didn’t achieve jack shit, did you?”

She picked the egg up to throw at him, and he fucking ran and hid behind the couch. Thro set it aside and smiled at Po. “As it happens, I did find out what I wanted to know. Don’t worry, Po, you’re perfectly healthy.”

“Yay…?” He gave her two thumbs up, not sure how she came to that conclusion. “What about the eggs though?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get those eggs out of you lickety-split!” she said, fist clenched. “I can cure your curse.”

Heart thundering, Po stared at her. “I-…R-really…? That’s…um…”

Nunch returned to the table, stealing the bloody egg and dumping it in the trash. “So you know what the curse is then?”

“Sure do,” she said. “It’s a stockpiling curse.”

Po blinked, thinking back. “Wait a minute, we already know it can’t be a stockpiling curse. Scimi said so.”

Thro frowned. “Right, let me clarify. It can’t be a Hellfire stockpiling curse; those work by blocking off the Hellfire so the victim can’t use it, waiting fifteen minutes, and sealing all the victim’s magic into a compact physical packet. Rinse and repeat. No, I think this is THE stockpiling curse.”

Nunch and Po sat on edge, listening. Well, Po stood on edge.

Trembling, eyes wild, Thro broke out in a cold sweat as her breath ran ragged. “I think she’s done it. I think Queen Mollinacht has somehow resurrected the Needy King!”

“Huh?” Nunch asked, unamused.

Horrified, Po clutched his belly, breathing hard. “A-are you serious? The legendary tyrant’s power…is in my guts?”

Thro nodded, patting his tum. “Don’t worry, you’re definitely not the source of the Needy King. What I believe is that Queen Mollinacht now works for the resurrection or incarnation of King Roseblight, and she spread his unstoppable stockpiling power to you. Your two Hellfires combined aren’t enough to make this many eggs as powerful as they are, so the only explanation is they aren’t coming from you. You’re being used as a conduit to package pure magic from somewhere else. Or you’re siphoning power from the souls around you. Something like that.”

Oh, that was not okay. Stealing energy from the souls of the people around him went so against Po’s protective warrior nature that it almost made him throw up.

Nunch rested one hand on Po’s chair, drumming his fingers on the wood as he eyed his girlfriend. “Thro, sweetie…Are you sure that’s how Needy King works?”

“Of course,” she said, grinning and giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up. “I read it in a book!”

“Which book?” he asked. “Name and author.”

“Oh, not a book in the Wrathgard library,” Thro said, shaking her head. “It’s an Envy City Library book.”

“Really? Well, I’ve bought and borrowed every book in Wrath, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, and Envy City on Magma Punk, King Roseblight, and the Needy King, and everything about how his powers actually worked has been stricken from public records.”

She stared at him, nose curled in disgust.

Nunch smiled. “Shin ‘n me spend a lot of time playing pretend down in Magma Punk, and we have a shared interest in history. It’s a father-son bonding thing.”

Thro choked. “Ye-. You know, the-. One thing I should-. Excuse me.” She hopped up, stretching. “Well, that was wonderful. A good time was had by all. I’m pooped. Sorry my facts might be a little off, it’s been a long time since I read the book I was referring to. I don’t think they sell it anymore, so I’ll have to find and reread it somewhere in my personal library. This is why I wanted to get back to you on Monday.”

“Of course,” Nunch said, watching her head for the door.

“Don’t worry, Po, you’ll be fine for a couple more days,” Thro said, giving him a smile and a thumbs up on her way out. The door slammed behind her.

Po shuddered, arms wrapped around himself, struggling to hold back tears.

Nunch pat him on the back. “Don’t worry, buddy, you’re good.”

A door upstairs opened. Morn dragged himself to the stairs, still wrapped in his blanket. He didn’t look so good, shaking and red-eyed from crying. “Hey. Sorry about that. Thro left?”

“Yep,” his brother said.

Trudging downstairs, Morn eyed his brother’s casual annoyance and Po struggling to hold himself together. His brow furrowed. “I didn’t really hear. What’d she say Po’s curse was?”

Nunch snorted. “Oh, nothing unusual. She just thinks it’s the Needy King.”

Morn choked. Despite his dull mood, he broke out fucking laughing.

Chapter Text

“Why are you laughing?!” Milk tears spilled down Po’s cheeks. “I’ve been cursed by the Needy King, and you’re laughing?!”

“No.” Morn stopped laughing, controlling himself. “You’re not cursed by the Needy King.” Then he looked up at his brother. “He’s not, right?”

“Use your brain,” Nunch said, hands on his hips.

Tapping his chin, Morn sat at the table with them to think, blanket parted around his distended middle. “Hm…No, that’s not possible. He lived past Third Street.”

Po frowned. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“This is really bad, actually,” Nunch said as they both ignored his question. “Thro’s gonna clap both asscheeks down on this dumbfuck theory and sit there while Po suffers.”

“Dumbfu-. You think she’s wrong?” Po asked, standing in his seat with his fists on the table. “You think you know better than Thro?”

“On this super specific topic,” Nunch said. “Yes.”

Morn reached over and rubbed Po’s back, trying to comfort him. “Should we be talking about this in front of Po?”

“Sure. I said I’d trust him.” Nunch smiled down at Po, bright and confident. “Po Learm, I trust you to protect me ‘n my brother, and my son.”

Po’s heart beat hard in his chest. “I-I’m honored.”

But how was he supposed to protect them from an unstoppable tyrant like the Needy King? Adoranma Roseblight was so cruel, destructive, and powerful that the whole world united to kill him. Nobody knew what his Mortal Magic, the Elven Castle ‘Needy King’ did anymore, because it’d been stricken from all public records. Wait, maybe he could find an Admiral who remembered. Or…

Fist to his palm like a judge’s gavel, Po remembered. “The Darkness!”

Nunch raised an eyebrow.

“Earlier, Kat gave me a Grenijnlijk Darkness to make me more able around the apartment, and possibly the battlefield at some point. She said King Roseblight’s spirit still haunts the halls of Wrathgard, and only someone who can peer into the Darkness can find his treasure!”

His eyes shifted to Morn. “Oh, Kat was talking about the Needy King, was she?”

Morn flinched. “I-I didn’t bring it up!” Then he rubbed the back of his head. “Okay, maybe I did. But I brought it up because she said Elven Castles occasionally go up for sale at the Auction House.”

As if his eyebrows could rise any higher. “I’d bet my beloved oranges they’ve never sold Needy King. I don’t think they COULD sell it, even if they had it. It’s a Mortal Magic so powerful it challenges the gods. They don’t want that shit out there in the world again. Especially not in the hands of some filthy rich asshole.”

Po slapped the table. “I can do it,” he said. “I can find that treasure, and maybe it’ll help protect you from whatever Queen Mollinacht did to me.”

“Cool beans,” Nunch said, hopping to his feet. “Let’s go.”

“Go?”

The eight-foot tall crimson demon picked him up like a dog and carted him to the door. Morn followed.

“Where are we going?” Po asked, dangling.

“To look for that treasure,” Nunch said, pushing open the front door with his hip.

“Tonight?”

“Sure, Cantaloupes, if you’re up for it.”

As Morn looked around to make sure nobody else was hanging out in the hall this time of night, Nunch set Po on the crimson stone floor and backed off. The hallway was dim and massive, flickering with enchanted torches. It somehow felt even bigger without Morn lovingly carrying him home.

“Go ahead,” Nunch said. “Peer into the Darkness.”

Focusing, Po strained his eyes, but he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He popped a mind grape and summoned a tentacle, but that didn’t seem to do much good either. Frustrated, he groaned. How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to figure this out without more to go on?

“Hm. Here, uh, lemme just…” Nunch picked him up again and moved him far left of his own apartment, setting him in front of the blank wall. “Try here.”

He wasn’t sure why here would be different, but he tried again, straining. This wasn’t working.

Morn hummed. “Try…closing your eyes?”

Eyes closed, Po stared into the darkness behind his eyelids. His focus wasn’t working, so he let himself relax. Let himself FEEL it.

An image appeared in his mind’s eye. The solid red stone wall before him gave way to an ornate obsidian doorway into the abyss. He felt water on his skin; a gentle current flowing inside, inviting him.

“I-…I see it,” Po said, barely breathing. “There’s a door here.”

“Can you enter the door?” Nunch asked.

“I can try.” He took a step, stumbling through the Dark Realm. Hard to tell if he was really there or not. Po braced his hands in front of him and felt them meet the stone wall. He could see the narrow hallway ahead, but he couldn’t quite reach it. “I can’t.”

“Try…using your Darkness?” Morn asked.

Po focused on getting through the door and popped a grape. His hands suddenly pushed into the stone like it’d stopped existing, and he staggered out on the other side.

“I-. I made it!” he said, opening his eyes. The short demon egged himself at what he saw, squeaking and slamming into the wall, trying to get back out.

The narrow hallway, lit by alternating teal and purple torches, opened ahead to a spiral stairwell leading both up and down, guarded by two of the most menacing beings he’d ever seen. They were humanoid, but he couldn’t call them humans, elves, or demons, not really. Two marble white knights, with marble skin and marble hair, wearing obsidian armor with cracks glowing like lava, held their giant obsidian greatswords at the ready, guarding the stairwell. Their eyes, pitch black and ringed with magma red, locked on Po, confirming they were alive, aware, and they knew he was there.

One had long elf ears, the other had round human ears. The Elf Knight had a handprint on his chest, from which purple and teal veins radiated out a few inches, like he’d been marked by magic in some epic battle. The Human Knight had a similar handprint on his crotch.

They showed no emotion as Po slumped against the wall like a cornered animal.

“Ey, you made it,” Nunch said, casually striding through the solid stone beside him.

Morn pushed through and stumbled inside like Po had. “I’ll never get used to that.” He saw the state of his boyfriend and kneeled, taking Po in his arms. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Are you sure about that?!” Po squealed, pointing at the knights, refusing to take his eyes off them.

Nunch strut over to the Elf Knight and leaned against his leg like a telephone pole. They were at least twenty feet tall. “Nah, look, they’re friendly.”

Skin crawling with sweat, Po got to his feet and watched Nunch, afraid the knights might crush him like a cockroach any moment. “Why-…? Why are they friendly? Th-they’re the Needy King’s knights, and they’re guarding the treasure. Why would they…?”

“Oh, here comes another,” he said pleasantly, pointing up the staircase.

Another knight clanked down the stairs, hunched and ferocious like a leopard stalking its prey. She wore the same style of armor, but hers was mostly purple and teal, with splotches of obsidian and magma around one arm and leg. Her eyes were teal with purple irises, her marble face was devoid of emotion, and she had long elf ears with thin chains draping from the studs along them to the straight line of studs down her nose, her upper and lower lip, and her chin. So she must have been a Royal Dragon Rider, but not a Prophet.

Po clutched his throat. “How sure are you she’s not coming to kill us?!”

“She’s not,” Morn reassured him, picking him up and carrying the smaller demon on top of his own belly.

“Don’t worry, Po, she’s a pal,” Nunch said, snapping his fingers.

The Royal Dragon Rider knight stopped at the bottom of the stairs. She raised her fists, shook her hips, and broke it down, hitting the Griddy.

“Look, she’s doin’ a funny little dance. I’d say that’s a friend right there.”

Gods, Po was so fucking confused. “Okay, so you guys have been in here before and you know these people. Got it.”

“Yes. Well, not quite? Well, uh…” Morn wracked his brain while he carried Po over to the dancing Rider. “They’re not really people. Like not in a racist way, I mean they actually don’t have souls like people.”

Nunch scratched his chin. “They have kinda the framework of a soul, but none of the gooey filling. So they move around and do shit, but they can’t really think or feel much? As far as Adoranma was concerned, having a personality was HIS job.”

“Horn has a little soul and personality.”

“Yeah, but Horn’s different. He’s new. He’s like a baby deer, stumbling through the forest, diving through a bus window and traumatizing the driver.”

“Who’s Horn?” Po asked.

“You’ll meet him in like two minutes.” Nunch snapped his fingers again, and the Dragon Rider turned around and gave a comically wide wave for them to follow her back upstairs. “Gasp! Look, Po, she’s gonna lead us to the treasure!”

Okay, Po was much calmer, but still fucking confused as Morn carried him up the enormous spiral staircase after his brother and the soulless knight. The other two didn’t seem bothered by their trespassing and stayed where they were.

They reached the top, and the sprawling throne room took Po’s breath away. It was menacing, exactly as one would expect from a tyrannical dragon rider. The cracked obsidian floor smoldered with lava veins. A black stone wall so high Po felt like a bug staring up at it stood in back, casting a shadow over the throne.

Oh, the throne. The striking black throne of cooled molten rock and volcanic glass with a giant red velvet cushion for a seat. Fuck, the sheer size of this thing. Po could’ve fit his entire apartment complex on that cushion. And he thought Morn’s tiny ass qualified as ‘giant’.

Five giant steps led up to the throne, and dozens more knights stood or sat around them like bleachers, eyes closed or staring off into space. Most wore molten obsidian armor, but every single one had a teal and purple handprint somewhere on their body, be it on their back, shoulder, or thigh. One had it smack in the middle of his face, and one had a handprint on each of her hefty breasts.

Opposite the throne, the most massive window wall in Wrathgard would’ve given King Roseblight a breathtaking view of every inch of land from Wrath City to the coastal mountains.

“Ey, there it is,” Nunch said, pointing to the massive mountains of gold and jewels on either side of the throne. “The treasure!” He snapped again, and the Royal Dragon Rider did another celebratory dance, holding her ankle and swinging her knee while hopping on one foot.

Po frowned at the knights. “Why do they all have handprints like that? I don’t understand what’s going on.”

Morn wrinkled his nose. “I don’t wanna be the one to tell him. Just rip the bandage off.”

“No no no, not yet,” Nunch said, smirking. “I wanna see what he thinks of Horn first.” He turned his head and cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting. “HORN!”

There was a crash from a room behind a set of fancy black double doors left of the throne.

“Dammit, Horn, stop breaking my stuff!”

“Dammit, Horn!” someone familiar echoed back.

Horn flung open the doors, and Po’s jaw about fell off. He was sixteen feet tall instead of eleven, with marble white skin instead of azure, and marble white hair tied in a ponytail instead of loose glossy black hair. His right curved horn with jagged edges had broken off, and his left was white instead of black. His eyes were purple with teal pupils instead of crimson with black pupils, but he otherwise looked exactly like Morn Ingstar.

Marble Knight Morn—Horn—wore teal and purple armor like the Royal Dragon Rider, and it clanked as he crossed the throne room to join Po, Nunch, and the real Morn, a blank expression on his literally sculpted face.

“Po, I’d like you to meet Sir Horn Miss Ingohno,” Nunch said, grinning ear to ear and waiting for his reaction. He snapped his fingers. “Horn, this is Morn’s true love. Protect Po Learm from those who would do him harm with your life.”

Horn placed a hand over his heart and kneeled before Nunch. “Anything my King Needs.”

The gears began to click together, and Po broke out in a cold sweat. “He’s definitely not one of your brothers…And I know King Roseblight couldn’t have made a Morn clone because he didn’t exist in that era…right?”

“Right,” Nunch confirmed. “Which means…?”

“It means…the reason you were so confident Thro’s theory was off…” Po said, swallowing, hand shaking as he pointed at Nunch from his perch in Morn’s strong arms. “It’s because, um…because YOU’RE the Needy King…?”

“Presto! Bingo!” Nunch threw his arms in the air as magic swirled above his head, forming a floating white marble crown. It glittered with teal and purple gemstones, and intricate carvings of all the races crying out to the heavens. “I think you deserve a prize.”

Po held onto his boyfriend for dear life. “Is the prize death?”

Nunch stopped. “What? No.”

Morn held him close, kissing his forehead. “Po, it’s okay. Ado isn’t going to hurt you. He trusts you. It’s okay to be surprised, but I hope you can trust him too.”

Heart thundering, Po needed a moment to calm himself before he managed to speak up. “So…you really are King Adoranma…?”

“No,” he said. “I’m King Ado Rable.”

“Huh?”

“That’s my Envy name,” Ado said. “Well, technically it was Adora Ble, but that sounds too fuckin’ girly. I’m cool with Ado Rable. Pronounced ‘ah-do’, not ‘ay-do’. I don’t mind Ado Ramen as a joke. I don’t THINK I’m a real Roseblight, and I hate being called that anyway. Rosebutt is fine. Also cool with you continuing to call me Nunch Ucks—which you should in public anyway.”

Po nodded, still having trouble picking up his jaw. “Okay.”

Grin splayed across his face, Morn adjusted his hold on his boyfriend and puffed out his chest. “We don’t think we’re related to Adoranma, but Ado mutated his Castle. Maybe as a blessing from one of the gods, well-intentioned or otherwise. Dunno. Either way, Ado’s the new Needy King, and despite being a mix, he’s closer to Elven royalty than any of the actual royal elves sitting on their stupid little thrones.”

“Holy whoa,” Po said. He moved to signal he wanted down, and Morn set him on his feet. The smaller demon pulled his muddy brown hair. “Gods, I have so many questions.”

“And I’m happy to ramble on about whatever you want,” Ado said. “But first, two things. One,” he said, dead serious. “I swear I had nothing to do with your curse. I didn’t do this to you, and nobody did it for me. Maybe Needy King can help you figure out what happened since Thro’s train of thought went down the wrong track and straight off a cliff, but I didn’t cause this.”

Po nodded, wiping his tears. “I believe you.”

“Thank you. Now, second—your prize.” He straightened up and gestured to the mountains of gold and jewels. “Pick out something shiny from the pile. For being such a great listener.”

“You sure that’s okay?” he asked, eying the knights. “These guys aren’t going to attack me if I try to steal from the hoard?”

“Nah. I-. Well, I don’t really control them, but I’ve sort of infected them with my power?”

“But I thought you had the same power as Adoranma?”

“I do, but the magic knows the difference between his and mine,” Ado said as Morn and Horn chatted off to the side. “I’ll explain how it works in technical detail later, but I wanna remind you King Roseblight was a General, and I’m some fuckass Captain who threw in the towel not long after promotion. My weak ass didn’t automatically inherit his stockpile just because I strolled in with the same Castle, Po, I have to wrestle it away from him piece by piece, and I’m not the kind of badass who can just casually do that.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay, so that’s what the handprints are. The black and red shit is Adoranma’s, and the teal and purple stuff is yours.”

“Spot on,” he said, giving a thumbs up. “Careful wandering into random Dark rooms around Wrathgard, because I don’t control all the living Armors. And I don’t have the power to order all the fuckers in here around, but I’ve got ‘em with enough juice that they won’t attack my friends. Wouldn’t have brought you here and told you to help yourself to the treasure if I didn’t think it was safe—and hadn’t tested it on Morn.”

“Okay.”

Morn grumbled as his clone poked him in the belly. “Fuck off.”

Horn chuckled, his smile completely devoid of the hesitation or sarcasm Morn usually displayed. “Shape round. Preg-nant.”

“I am not, dammit!”

He frowned. “Pregn’t?”

“Not pregnant. Eggs.”

“Chicken nuggets?” he asked, purple and teal eyes widening.

“No!”

Po snickered at their banter, waddling to one of the treasure mountains and rooting through the gold. True to Ado’s word, the Armors didn’t mind. He spent a minute sifting through random shinies until a thought struck him and he knew exactly what he was looking for. Searching the piles, he found it.

“Morn,” he said, hiding his prize behind his back as he waddled back to the azure demon.

He was fuming, but Horn abruptly backed off before he could swing a punch at him. With a huff, he turned to Po. “Yes?”

“Hope this isn’t a bad time, because I have something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Yeah?”

Taking a deep breath, Po bent to one knee, as if he needed to be any shorter compared to his boyfriend, and pulled the white gold ring with a small rainbow stone from behind his back. “Morn Ingstar, will you marry me?”

Morn’s brain broke for a moment, and he just stared even more blankly than the soulless knights. Then he choked, eyes welling up with tears, and it took him three tries to force intelligible sounds out of his mouth. “Y-yeah? Yeah. YES!” As if he hadn’t already cried enough today, he broke down sobbing in the middle of the throne room. “YES! I WILL, PO!”

Chapter Text

“Haven’t seen Morn cry so much since we were kids,” Ado said, watching Po slip the ring onto Morn’s finger as the azure demon sat on the floor and sobbed with joy. “Emotional openness is a good look for him. I’m sick of my brother trying to act like a tough guy all the time.”

Po grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry if it feels like we’re moving pretty fast.”

“Nah, I get it. You two knew each other long before you met. Morn glimpsed you in the future, and you’re a Conquest superfan. At some point, it was just about meeting and making sure the connection was real.”

Morn sucked up his snot. “Ado, will you be my best man?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, giving him a thumbs up. “Just lemme know when the wedding’s scheduled.”

“I’m gonna ask Goldme to be my best man, if that’s okay,” Po said. “Unless we only need one? Or, uh…I might not actually have any idea how weddings work except for the part where the bride and groom kiss and say ‘I do’. And I know even less about weddings with two grooms. Um…”

Chuckling, Ado crossed his arms and leaned against the stairwell railing. “We’ll figure it out.” Then he looked up at Horn as he watched them. “Horn, what do you think? Uh, he probably doesn’t know what a wedding even is. I ought to make him watch more rom-coms.”

Horn shrugged. “I thinkn’t, therefore I amn’t.”

“C’mon, humor your King. Use those photocopied emotions I frankensteined into you in a bout of ethically dubious magic experimentation.”

Tapping his marble chin, Horn attempted to think. “Hm. Well in that case, their Horn I swear to the gods if you drink that glue again is hella strong.”

Po snorted. “What?”

Morn sighed. “He’s just…like that.”

“He’s like a pet parrot,” Ado said. “Intelligent enough to repeat things we say, but not enough to fully understand and hold a normal conversation. He probably meant he thinks you two have a strong bond, like glue.”

“Ah, thanks, Horn.” Po yawned. What time was it?

Horn kneeled beside him, marble brow furrowed. “Protect Po Learm from how are you today I’m feeling great.”

“It’s pretty late,” Ado admitted, heading for the stairs. “Fuck, it’s probably well after midnight. We’re not gonna feel too great today if we don’t get any sleep. Call me later, and I’ll explain how my powers work and take a look at those eggs.”

“Okay,” Po said.

Morn tried to get up, but had difficulty maneuvering around his belly. Thing filled his whole lap now. He groaned.

Gods, he was so cute like this. Po blushed, excited to return to the apartment and be left alone with him again. “Um, Horn, can you help him up?”

“I don’t need-” Morn started, but Horn grabbed him under the arms and lifted him to his feet. He smoldered with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, Po, you’ll be fine for a couple more daysn’t,” Horn said.

Morn huffed. “No, he’s Po, I’m Morn, and you’re Horn.”

“No, he’s Easter, I’m in the way, and you’re I’m sorry, but the number you have dialed is out of service.”

“Dammit, Horn.”

“Dammit, Horn.”

Po snorted. “Gods, it’s like listening to two cartoon characters with the same voice actor.”

Frustrated, Morn stomped downstairs with his fiancé and his clone close behind. Horn waved goodbye and stayed at the exit as the three slipped back out through the hidden door. They said goodnight, went their separate ways, and finally Morn and Po returned to his apartment alone.

“F-fuck,” Morn breathed, rubbing his belly. His sweatshirt was stretched tight around it, revealing the lower curve, and his sweatpants were tented in front.

Po had a great view from knee height. “That’s the plan before we sleep, if you’re up for it.”

Peeking around his belly, his eyes became hearts. “Y-yeah.”

Popping a couple grapes, Po balanced on two tentacles and tried to have them carry him up the stairs. He fell off twice, asked Morn not to help him, and struggled to get the tentacles to come back, but he made it. It was possible, and he could practice and refine his technique over time.

“My shirt isn’t soaked,” Po said, surprised as he stripped it off and looked at it. Dry as a bone. “And I didn’t even have to wear my padded bra. I guess the magic decided not to use itself without my permission anymore.”

“That’s awesome.” Morn tossed his clothes aside, sitting on the carpet beside the bed with one elbow up on the mattress. He fluttered his thick eyelashes. “But, uh…maybe you could soak my insides instead.”

Po threw his shirt over his shoulder and waddled as fast as he could to the azure demon. He trailed kisses down his beautiful blue body before removing his buttplug, testing his looseness with a few fingers, and lining himself up.

He pushed in, setting a gentle, sensual pace. After only a minute, he felt his involuntary orgasm coming on. That was fine, he’d harden up fast after and get back to it. Shuddering, he felt the eggs pouring down his-

WAIT. SHIT. THE EGGS.

Three slipped loose before he slapped himself out of his orgasmic daze and pulled out, dumping the rest on the carpet.

Morn huffed. “Hey, you were just getting started.”

“Eggs,” he gasped. “Forgot about the eggs, I’m sorry, shit, fuck, um…” Po reached inside him and fished around for the three escapees.

“O-oh no, more eggs for your personal incubator,” he said sarcastically, squirming as the smaller demon rummaged through his intestines. “Sounds like an, ah, a problem for future Morn.”

Po felt the eggs and tried to get his fingers around them, but it was like they were stuck in there with glue. “I can’t get them.”

“Then don’t worry about it,” he said. “Was bound to happen eventually. Besides, today’s Sunday. I’ll have all day and night to be stuffed stupid.”

“If you say so.” He plugged himself inside with a tentacle and went back to it.

They got in a couple good rounds before they were both soft and yawning. Morn grabbed some tissues and wiped them both off before they climbed into bed, facing each other, bellies pressed together.

Content, Po watched his partner with a big sleepy smile as Morn admired his engagement ring.

Then Morn’s smile faltered.

“What? Nervous?”

“Well, yeah,” Morn admitted. “Although maybe not as much as I feel like I should be. About the wedding. That’s a big deal, but my instincts are just screaming with excitement. It feels…right.” He shook his head. “Fucking hell…am I actually a Lust demon?”

“Yes,” Po said. “Not because Thro said so, and not because you’re obsessed with pleasure eggs, but because you’re a lover, not a fighter. That doesn’t mean you’re weak or can’t fight, it means that isn’t what your heart wants. You said earlier you felt bad about laughing with everyone around the coffee table when you were supposed to be guarding the door. Well, you’re not supposed to be guarding the door—I am. Wrath demons are Wrath demons because we LIKE guarding the door.”

He looked down at the blanket. “I think I get it? Sort of?”

“Want me to over-analyze your backstory and tell you every decision and reaction that was more Lust than Wrath?”

Morn chuckled. “Maybe not tonight.”

Po woke up slapping to the carpet beside the bed like a ball of dough. Huh? What? Where? Why had he rolled off the edge?

He sat up with a groggy groan in the soft morning light, peering up and breaking out laughing as he realized the problem: Morn’s belly had grown so much in his sleep it’d shoved his fiancé off the fucking bed.

Obviously Morn woke to his laughter. The azure demon gasped and grunted as he tried to get up, grumbling in confusion when he couldn’t. Po used a tentacle to lift himself back onto the bed north of that gargantuan gravid orb in time to see Morn’s eyes widen with alarm at the sheer size of himself.

“Gods, you’re massive!” Po laughed, proud of his handiwork.

“Ohh,” Morn moaned, trying to touch his popped-out belly button. It was beyond his reach. “Eggs.”

“Yeah, eggs,” he said, crawling across the mattress and kissing him on both cheeks and the forehead. “You okay?”

He nodded.

Po took a moment to look at the bed. Dozens of small eggs were scattered about, but the sheets and pillow around where he’d rested his chest were dry for the first time since his milk manifested. His heart swelled with joy—and his chest swelled as he thought of the magic and spilled some by accident.

“F-full. I’m so full,” Morn moaned, rubbing his middle.

“Damn right you are,” Po said, smushing his face to that belly and rubbing all over it. He came from the excitement, adding more little eggs to the pile.

Breathing hard, Morn closed his eyes. “Sh-should probably move down to the large bathroom. Gonna have to lay these soon.”

“Okay,” Po said, standing up. He felt tiny. He was tiny, and blatantly incapable of carrying his giant fiancé to where he needed to go. “Shit, I’m not strong enough to take you there, even with my magic.”

“You will be eventually. Don’t worry about it,” Morn said, using his own magic. Dark waves splashed around him, dragging him off the bed and downstairs as if carrying him out to sea. He washed himself through the gym and into the large bathroom.

Po summoned a bigger tentacle than usual, balancing on it and willing it to carry him after Morn. The ride wasn’t smooth, but he stayed on, surfing through the door and hopping down.

Morn set himself in the tub, getting comfortable on the waterproof cushions. A water whip flicked the faucet handle, and the tub began filling with real water—or, well, Light Realm water. Warm water.

Another tentacle lifted Po so he could kiss Morn on the cheek. “What do you need?”

He blinked. “Oh. I’ve, um, never had help with this, so I don’t know.”

Po had two tentacles grab a washcloth from the cabinet, wet it in the sink, and attempt to wipe Morn’s forehead. They smacked him in the face with it by accident. “Shit, sorry.”

“No worries,” he chuckled, doing it himself with a charmed smile at Po’s attempt to reciprocate his earlier domestic care.

“Want me to make tea?”

“Sure.”

Po had the large tentacle carry him to the kitchen and lift him up to find tea bags in the cupboard. He didn’t know how to use Morn’s fancy tea and coffee machine, so he found a traditional kettle and heated water on the stove. After putting the steaming hot cup on a fancy little plate like Morn had before, Po walked it to the bathroom so he didn’t spill with his clumsy tentacles and handed it up to Morn.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip.

“Anything else?” Po asked, tentacle hoisting him up into the tub so he could admire that tum hanging way past Morn’s knees, forcing his legs apart.

“Mm. Milk would be nice.”

He let the azure demon nurse from his chest and squeeze his butt. The nice thing about having a doorframe-destroying dump truck was that Morn, despite his size difference, still had a lot to fondle.

After a few minutes, Morn suddenly pulled away, shuddering. The bathwater around his ass clouded with milk. Muscles twitching, his belly contracted as he pushed the eggs down.

Po had tentacles massage Morn’s tum as he watched an obsidian egg with an iridescent supernova around the swirly pink heart stretch his hole. Thing was every bit as massive as Morn had said. “You okay? To make the understatement of the year, that looks like it hurts.”

“Mgh. F-for once,” he started heart-eyed and panting. “It doesn’t. The milk dulls most of the pain, a-and now it just, ah, feels really f-fucking good…!” He cut off, eyes rolling back in his head as he gasped through an orgasm and the first egg popped free and sank to the bottom of the tub.

Morn buried his face in Po’s chest as he labored, delirious with pleasure and crying out as the eggs smashed his prostate and he came repeatedly. Po pet his hair and stroked his long ears, peppering him with kisses and reminding him how good and beautiful he was until all seventeen incubated eggs were piled around one of the drains.

Slumped against him, Morn gasped for breath. “F-fuck, that was incredible…”

“Feel like you’re going to pass out?” Po asked, worried as he remembered Morn’s story of his first time.

The azure demon shook his head, making his partner’s breasts slosh. “No. Haven’t since that first time.”

He recovered while Po took a few minutes to lay his own eggs in the bath. The water felt heavenly, and it was funny watching the golf ball-sized ones cluster around the melon-sized ones. He marveled at how much they’d grown.

When Morn’s energy returned, he carried Po out of the bath, and they showered together. His enormous belly had mostly shrunk back to normal, remaining a bit stretched and bloated.

Morn suddenly flinched. “Oh. I feel them.”

“What?”

“Last night’s eggs. Waited their turn, and now I feel ‘em growing.”

“That was nice of them to wait,” Po said, enjoying the cool shower.

They toweled off and got dressed for the day ahead. Morn surfed a wave to the kitchen, and Po had a tentacle carry him to the table.

“I’m making coffee,” Morn said, putting some grounds in the fancy machine. “You want breakfast?”

“I always want breakfast,” Po said, standing on his chair.

He clapped twice. “Kitchen Service.”

Crimson light formed a short blue chef with a notepad and pen. “Kitchen Service, serving breakfast. What would you like to order?”

Morn gestured to Po.

Po thought. “I don’t know the menu.”

“Oh, right,” Morn said, flustering. “Crap, I forgot to find you that manual too. You need all the service lists. Teleportation points, maid and medic rules, kitchen menu, library archive list…I needed to upgrade my Maid Brigade subscription too.”

The chef chuckled, then clapped twice. “Kitchen Menu.” A thin velvet book with laminated pages appeared out of thin air, and he brought it over to Po.

“Thank you,” he said, opening it up. “This is a lot of options.”

“The Wrathgard ‘kitchen’ is technically a collection of all the restaurants around the village as well as the cafeteria on the tower’s ground floor. If you want something from a village restaurant, we can easily teleport there and back to your room.”

“Neat.” Po looked through the restaurants, deciding what he’d like.

Looking up at Po in the chair, the chef grinned. “You’re Egg Waitress, right? Maid Brigade told us your name is Po Learm.”

“That’s right.”

He pointed over at Morn as the man scribbled all the errands he’d forgotten to run on his own notepad. “I’ve never seen him in such a cheery mood. Usually he’s a giant grump. Never seen that ring on his finger either.”

“Oh, that’s new,” Po said, puffing out his chest with pride. “I proposed last night.”

The chef grinned ear to ear. “Congratulations!” He smiled at the other man too. “Congratulations, General.”

“Thanks,” Morn told him. “And yes, you can spread the rumor.”

Heh, he looked excited about that.

Po picked out enough food from three different restaurants to feed fifteen people.

After scribbling it all down, the chef bowed. “Keep the menu. We should be back with your order in less than half an hour.” He clapped twice. “Move Me To the Wrathgard Cafeteria.”

“Thanks,” Po said, waving as he dissolved into light again and disappeared. He smiled at Morn. “The tower staff all seem really kind and accepting.”

“Yeah. They have been after the power shift because now most of the Admirals will kick their asses if they aren’t.”

He frowned. “Power shift?”

“Oh, it was before my time, but the older Generals yap about the old days a lot,” Morn said, ripping off his list of errands and stuffing it in his shirt pocket. “Twenty years ago, there was a big battle with the humans not far south of Wrath City. Our demon Admirals were called to fight the human Admirals, or God-Heroes, or whatever they’re called. Some of our Admirals got pissed off by the call, or by something during the fight, and left, leaving new ones to move here or Ascend and take their places.

“Before that, more than half the Admirals had been selfish assholes in favor of slavery, marriage only for reproduction, and other garbage like that. After the battle, there were suddenly more Admirals voting for equality, fair pay, and marriage for love, so the power shift completely overhauled the rules.”

Po nodded. “So the Admirals are the only ones allowed to vote on the rules?”

“Normally, yeah,” he said. “They’re our gods. A petition isn’t going to stop an angry god from doing whatever they want. The only thing that can stop them is another one of them, but they don’t want to gut each other over every inconvenience, so they hold an Admiral meeting every three months to vote on policies. But the nicer ones ask the rest of us what we want, and some of the lazier ones won’t fight the people even if they disagree.”

“And by Ascending,” Po said, hands pressed together. “You’d join those meetings and have a say over Wrathgard’s governing?”

“And Wrath City. I’d become some of the glue that holds this place together,” he said, nodding. Then he stopped. “Well, assuming they let me, because, um…I wouldn’t be a Wrath Admiral, I’d-…I’d be a Lust Admiral? Oh jeez…”

“Yeah, but you’d still be a Lesser God.”

“Sure, but…I don’t know. There aren’t any Lust Admirals in Wrathgard, so I don’t know. I think they’re allowed to live here, but they don’t.”

“You want me to keep your nature a secret?”

Morn nodded, looking scared. “Yeah. Might tell my friends, but-”

His phone rang from the living room.

A water whip brought it to him, and he answered. “What’s up, Scimi?”

“Hey,” Scimi Tar said. “So, I’m eating breakfast down in the cafeteria, and the chefs are saying you’re engaged?”

Chapter Text

“Yeah. Po proposed to me last night,” Morn said, heart-eyed as he watched his fiancé and leaned against the counter. “Surprised?”

“With that strong bond between your souls? Not really,” Scimi said on the line. “I’ve met people married for decades who aren’t that tangled together. Congratulations.”

Po tilted his head. “He can see our bond? Huh?”

Scimi didn’t hear him, chuckling. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to it.”

“Scimi, wait,” Morn said, eyes returning to normal. “Can you, um…come over and appraise Po’s eggs?”

“I’m not really the best qualified for identifying artifacts. That’s why I told you to ask little Miss Wingstar.”

“Yeah, but we did, and, uh…” He scratched his chin, struggling to think of an explanation for Scimi that didn’t reveal they had a reason they knew Thro’s theory was wrong and couldn’t just share that reason with her.

“Fine, you don’t have to say anything. I’ll try, but I can’t promise I’ll be accurate.”

“Thank you so much, Scimi.”

“Give me ten minutes.”

Scimi hung up, and Morn set his phone down, grabbing three mugs. He filled two with coffee right away and brought one to Po before he surfed back to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” Po asked, sipping that sweet caffeine.

He returned quickly with two incubated eggs. “To grab my own breakfast.”

Choking, Po watched him set the eggs on the counter, get out a pan, and crack one in. “Right. I ate my own eggs for years out of necessity, but you like them?”

His eyes mutated into thumping hearts as he tended the frying pan. “They’re my favorite food ever.”

“Well, we’ll be making plenty of them.”

“I know. Don’t think I’ll ever get over just how damn many you lay.” He took a deep whiff of the steam coming off the pan, shuddering with arousal. Then his water whips brought the rest of the incubated eggs, and the little ones Po laid, from the bathroom. He stuffed most of them in the fridge, then stopped, had a thought, and got out a second pan to fry up a dozen of the small ones. “Never made a meal out of the smaller ones before. Like I’ve tried them, but never a whole plate, because it felt like a waste when I only got nine a week.”

Po winked. “Eat as many as you’d like.”

Morn finished frying the incubated scramble, took it off the stove, blew on it, and ate it right out of the pan with a fork. He squirmed with joy, and it was the cutest damn thing.

Someone knocked at the front door.

“Come in,” Morn said around another mouthful of scrambled eggs.

The door quietly opened and shut, and Scimi took a second to slip his shoes off before marching around the corner. He wore casual white slacks and socks, but still no shirt. The Wrath General looked Morn up and down, bushy black eyebrows rising. “Damn, you look healthier.”

Morn snorted, pouring him a cup of coffee. “I don’t normally?”

“In retrospect, no,” he said. “And neither did your soul.”

Po downed the rest of his own coffee. “Souls can look unhealthy?”

“Yes,” Scimi said, joining him at the kitchen table. Despite being half Morn’s height, he had no trouble vaulting up into the giant chair. “They get brighter when they’re full of hope, and darker when they despair. Ingstar’s was already much brighter when he brought you to the village, but now it’s really shining.”

Flustered, Morn went back to tending the small eggs, still frying. “Thanks, man.”

“Can you teach me how to read souls?” Po asked.

“Yes, but it’s a grueling process that takes years of hard training to learn, let alone master.”

Morn plated his eggs. “Even I couldn’t handle it.”

Scimi smiled. “The Clear Sky denied my Ascension, so I just do my job as a General, take on challenges to keep getting stronger, and train some of the younger Captains and mages. Maybe I’ll qualify someday, maybe not. I’m content.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Po chuckled. “Yeah, that was stupid of me to think it was something you could just teach me right here at the table.” Then he clapped. “Wait, I did see a soul though. I saw Morn’s soul when we teleported. I think.”

Squatting in his seat to look somewhat normal height compared to the table, he frowned. “That’s unusual. Most people don’t see anything when they teleport. You’re not a mage if you can’t see them all the time, but maybe you have some kind of natural affinity for it.”

“Maybe.”

“I saw him too,” Morn said, shoveling eggs into his mouth. “But that could be because I’ve had a little training.”

Scimi nodded. “What did each of you see exactly?”

Po sighed happily, remembering. “He was beautiful deep blue, made of stardust and rainbow nebulas.”

Morn swallowed a bite before speaking. “Looked like an ethereal fire, burning purple with wisps of blue and teal.”

“Okay, so you have perfect vision in the Soular Realm,” Scimi said, pointing at Po. “And Ingstar’s slightly blind.”

“Hey,” Morn said.

“I don’t understand the difference,” Po said. “Like I understand they ARE different, but I don’t understand why that means my vision is better than his.”

Scimi shrugged. “I could give you a run-down on how it works.”

“Yes, please. But first,” he said, hopping down from his chair. “Egg break.”

Po scurried to the medium bathroom. Morn had emptied the bin into the fridge at some point, and it felt so nice not having to lug them around himself. While he was laying, he heard the chef return with his food. When he was done and decent, he wobble-jogged back to the table where the steaming-hot breakfast waited for him. The bacon tasted so good he could’ve cum from it if he hadn’t just laid.

Scimi chuckled as he watched him stuff his face. “Alright, so, the general idea of how mage sight works…Everything has a soul. Or like the bare husk of a soul at the lower end. Dirt has a soul. Rocks have souls. The couch has a soul.”

They both stared at this man like he was insane.

“But they’re not really thinking or feeling, because their souls are mostly just empty. Living things have much fuller souls. Starting with plants. Bugs are a bit stronger. Then simple animals, complex animals—it’s a spectrum. Some really smart animals like corvids, dolphins, and apes are comparable to people, to the point where there’s a little overlap.”

Morn’s brow furrowed. “You saying there are birds ‘n shit smarter than people?”

“Yes,” he said. “But it’s not really about intelligence. It’s about capacity to store Soular magic, or something. Anyway, all souls have a distinct form where all their information is on display as a canvas of colored galaxies. That’s what Po saw, and not many can see those, especially outside the Soular Realm, and especially from more than a few inches away. Most mages just see your aura.”

Mouth full of hash browns, Po nodded.

“Souls produce energy and continuously burn it for fuel. That fire is your aura, and its color fluctuates by whatever you’re feeling in the moment. For example, Po’s burning mostly green and teal right now because he’s curious how this affects the world and the people in it. Or maybe primarily how it affects Ingstar.”

He swallowed, admitting that was pretty accurate. “Like a Gluttony or Envy demon?”

“Yes, you’re swinging toward Envy or Gluttony. And this is why we have proper soul appraisal—because you can’t tell someone’s type from a glance. They could just be in a mood.” He raised his hand before Morn could speak up. “But we do tend to burn more of our type’s color than anything else, because it’s the most abundant, so you can tell over time. Or if your sight’s really sharp, you can appraise someone by focusing close enough to see their core like Po did.”

Hand over his mouth, Morn squirmed. “Scimi…”

Scimi crossed his arms. “Yes?”

“Since you can see what color I burn…”

His bushy brows rose. “Finally going to tell me?”

Morn set his empty plate aside. “H-how long have you known…?”

“Suspected the second time we met,” he said. “You burn so blue.”

The azure demon’s ears drooped.

Po frowned up at Scimi. “Nunch and I bullied Thro into telling him yesterday.”

“He didn’t know?” Scimi asked. “Crap. Sorry, Ingstar, I assumed you were hiding it on purpose, so I didn’t say anything.”

Arms crossed, Morn eyed him. “What, and you were just cool with me hiding something like that?”

“Yes,” he said. “I didn’t know your intent. You’re an upstanding member of Wrathgard’s community, a respectable warrior, and a good friend. Why the hell should it matter what type of demon you are?”

He hung his head. “Fair point. Still really wish you’d said something though. Been struggling a lot, especially the last few months, ‘cause I have a ton of quirks and habits I’ve been ashamed of because they’re weird for a Wrath demon, but totally normal for Lust. Like nobody would bat an eye if they found out a Lust General spent all his weekends laying eggs…”

Scimi snickered. “They might, but only because that sounds like it’d be a Lust General’s job, not their weekend hobby.”

“Fair,” Morn chuckled, wiping out the pan and cracking the second incubated egg into it.

Curious, Scimi watched him.

“I have a random question,” Po said, stirring his smoothie. “What do human and elf souls look like?”

He shrugged. “Same as ours.”

“Okay. Do they just not have types?”

“They do. They don’t divide and train themselves by type, but they have colored souls exactly like ours. I’ve got a student, Publi C Speaker, who’s a human adopted by demons. He’s got an orange soul, so he’s technically a Sloth demon. Or like a Sloth human. Anyway, I can’t pick him out of a crowd with just aura vision because our souls are indistinguishable.”

Po smiled. “I think we met Publi in the village. He pitched us some ideas about my curse.”

“He’s a good lad,” Scimi said, smiling. Then he turned to Morn. “Ingstar, mind if I try some of that?”

Morn paused in the middle of plating his scrambled egg. “Um. You sure you want to?”

“Might help me appraise them better if I tried one,” he said. “They’re obviously meant to be eaten.”

“Yeah, but it…came out of Po…and me…”

He waved it off. “Believe me, I’ve had worse.”

“Your funeral,” he said, grabbing a second fork. He set the plate on the table between himself and the other general.

Scimi scooped up a fork full of scrambled eggs. Other hand lingering near them, he examined the innocent-looking golden breakfast with magic, then gave them a sniff, and popped them in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. His face scrunched, and he coughed. “Hot.”

“Yeah, ‘spicy’ wasn’t just an innuendo,” Morn chuckled.

“I could, uh…pour you some milk, if you want,” Po offered.

Scimi nodded.

Po had a tentacle pass him a glass. He turned around, pulled down the collar of his t-shirt over one of his tits, and filled it with milk. Pulling his shirt back up, he passed the glass up to the general.

“Thanks,” he coughed, downing it in seconds. Scimi lowered the glass and froze, staring off into space like he’d just taken a hallucinogenic.

Morn laughed. “Fucking amazing combo, aren’t they?”

“Oh no, I think I broke him,” Po said, hoisting himself back into his seat so he could continue eating.

Scimi slowly shook it off, breathing hard and staring down at his shaking hands.

“You okay, man?” Morn asked.

“Give me a minute,” Scimi said, closing his eyes and pressing his hands, glowing with magic, to his bare chest. He meditated like that for a few minutes in silence while Po and Morn watched.

As Morn got distracted stuffing his face with scrambled eggs, Po got distracted by the shadow on the table. There was an odd shadow between Morn and Scimi that didn’t seem like it was supposed to be there, but Po decided it was just his imagination.

Scimi opened one eye. “What did you say Wingstar’s theory was?”

Morn shrugged, trying to look and sound casual. “She thinks it’s some Elven Castle because the witch who cursed Po looked like a Dragon Rider.”

“Oh. Never felt a Castle, so that might be possible,” he said.

“What’s your theory?”

Lips pressed together, he paused, not answering.

“You can tell us,” Po said. “Even if you think it’s wrong, we can sort that out discussing it.”

Eyebrow raised, Morn watched him. “You look like you’ve felt this before.”

“Only twice.” Scimi shook his head, sweating bullets. “Something too similar for comfort. That feeling of dread when it dropped into my stomach. The stretching and trembling of my soul.”

Swallowing a bite of his fruit bowl, Po prepared himself for this to be really, really bad news.

“I was gonna say Nunch should fire Thro as your appraiser if she really had no idea what this was, but she certainly knows more about Castles than I do, so take what I’m about to say with a grain of salt big enough to cave in someone’s skull, because I didn’t get to stop and analyze the other two instances, and I’m very much not qualified to make this call.”

Nodding, Morn set his fork down. “Okay. We’ll assume you’re full of shit until we investigate.”

Deep breath in, Scimi threw his hands up in exasperation. “They feel like Hail Charges.”

Morn’s eyes shot wide open. “What?”

“I’ve heard of those,” Po said, remembering. “Kat said Admirals sell them to make hella cash. Maybe I can pay her back that way. How much do you think each egg is worth on the Auction House?”

He shrugged. “Two thousand for the small ones and ten thousand for the big ones I think is the standard.”

Po’s brain shut down, and he froze with his fork delivering a grape into his mouth.

What?

Laughing hysterically, Morn slapped the table. “They’re not Hail Charges. Fuckin’…what do you even mean?”

Scimi frowned. “You ever had to take a Hail Charge? Like on the battlefield.”

“Well, no, but I’ve seen the enemy take ‘em.”

“They’re terrifying, even when your team is the one using them. Remember when I got called to fill in for a missing Pride General because I was talented for my age and reddish-purple? Well, Gluttony Admiral Gran D Ma baked us cookies.”

“And they tasted like these?”

“Yes and no? They tasted different, but they felt like these. Chocolate was way too sweet. Gulped it down and felt this horrible dread settle in my stomach.”

“Yeah, but the milk tamps it down.”

“Fuck, I know,” Scimi said, picking up his glass to swish the drops of Po’s milk settled at the bottom. “I fucking wish we’d had this milk for Gran’s cookies. It’s like a, like a…protective buffing Dual Hellfire, or something. Gods, if I’m right, Po has some revolutionary design going on. Don’t get me wrong though, it’s unethical as all hell. Like holy shit.”

Po shook his head. “I don’t understand how this conversation went from hella Hail Charge cash, to grandma’s cookies and milk, to Hellfire and ethics.”

Morn frowned at him. “You know what a Hail Charge is. You watch Conquest.”

“Mm, do I though? Did you talk about it on Conquest?”

“Yes, all the damn time,” he said, frustrated. Then he stopped. “Oh, I guess we don’t usually call them Hail Charges though. That’s more of an Auction House or military term. Uh, we call them ‘drops of the gods’ nectar’ or something.”

What?

“Small items that dispense the Ascending power of heaven and hell to mortals—like the doilies from the battle of Envy City.” Morn shook his head, incredulous. “But you can’t be full of god’s nectar, ‘cause that would make you a-…a Devil’s Chalice?”

Po gaped up at Scimi, heart thundering in his chest. “You think I’m a fucking Devil’s Chalice?!”

Scimi shrugged. “I don’t know. Look, I warned you I’m not qualified to make this call.”

Morn laughed, but his nerves gave a hard edge to the sound. “Hey, I know I joked with you before that if Thro told us your belly was a goddamned Devil’s Chalice, I wouldn’t question it, because they were just that intense, but like…I was joking?”

“Maybe that’s because it’s me saying it,” Scimi offered. “If Thro said it, we could be pretty damn sure she was right. She’s better at this than I am.”

Scooting back, Po placed his hands on his belly and stared down at it like a foreign object.

“How would we even confirm that?” Morn asked, sweating.

Scimi shrugged. “Ask an Admiral?”

“Aren’t they all out until Tuesday when Gu gets back?”

“Right. We’ll have to be patient then.”

The azure demon tapped his chin. “Maybe we could try doing a Chalice Cheer? But we’re both Generals. We have natural Hail, so maybe it’d be harder to tell…Guess we could waste our natural charges and see if the eggs give us more.”

“I have a better idea: let’s harass some Captains into Cheering with us.”

“Hm…”

“You need a Hellfire to use Hail at all, and Captains have Hellfire but not Hail.”

“I know, just…” Morn reached across the table and patted Po on the back as he hyperventilated. “I don’t want this getting out to a bunch of people. Fucking shit, if people thought Po’s body was a Chalice, even if your theory’s full of shit, they’d come after him.”

“Yes,” Scimi said, thinking it through, hands clasped on the table in front of him. “So we recruit only the Captains we trust most: Betty, Kat, Thro, and Nunch.”

Chapter Text

“I-I can’t be a Devil’s Chalice,” Po stammered, hopping down from the chair. He couldn’t stand still right now, he needed to move and think.

Morn moved to the area rug to sit, watching Po pace. “Shit, I mean, now that I think about it, you ARE an endlessly refilling container full of magic so powerful it makes mages mistake you for a General or Admiral.”

“Maybe it’s not a mistake.” Scimi, sweaty and overheated, jumped down from his own chair. “Honestly, if you’d first walked up to me like, ‘Hi, I’m Wrath Admiral Po Learm,’ I would’ve believed you without question. You have to either be an Admiral, a Chalice, both, or a stockpile of other General-level magic I’m not familiar with, like from an Elvish Castle, or one of the deeper, more powerful, less observed Void abominations. Can’t really imagine any other possibilities.”

Po patted his belly. “But if I’m a Chalice, and Morn’s been ‘drinking’ from me, wouldn’t he be a demon god?”

Staring at his own hands, Morn blinked. “Would I be? I don’t feel like I am. Oh, but I guess Thro said the gods don’t feel their own power, so it’s possible to not know? I don’t know.” He raised his hands. “God powers, activate!”

Nothing happened.

Scimi scratched his head. “Probably haven’t been drinking enough. I think I’ve heard it’s something like fifty Hail Charges a day for a year? It can vary by person too.”

“I can make that in like an hour and a half or less,” Po said.

“How fast do you produce them exactly?” Scimi asked.

“About ten to fifteen every twenty minutes, so, what, thirty to forty-five an hour?”

Horrified, Scimi paced around the kitchen table. “So if I’m right, you’re a living Devil’s Chalice that produces thirty to forty-five Hail Charges an hour like clockwork, can incubate them in other people to amplify their potency from the Slope to the Peak, and you have a buffing Dual Hellfire that protects your soldiers from the distress of having their souls twisted, and the crash after the charge wears off. Because I should be crashing now, but I’m not.”

Morn gaped. “Right. I used to crash when I had only the eggs. That’s totally what that was. But I haven’t since drinking the milk.”

Po paused, rubbing his aching back. “And that’s a good thing? I don’t really understand how it works…”

The Wrath General crossed his arms, staring seriously down at him. “I’ll lay it out for you honestly. If I were in charge of Wrathgard, and I were told the enemy brought something like you to our doorstep, I’d call for Wrath City’s immediate surrender and evacuation. You are ‘we die if we try to fight this’ levels of powerful. It took Admiral Gran three months to bake five hundred Hail Charge cookies, and you can do, what, up to twice that per day without even trying? What the fuck was the god who cursed you smoking that day?”

Po swallowed.

“Learm, if I’m right, you’re not just a Chalice, you might be the scariest Chalice the Ambrelloshian Queendom’s ever seen.”

Morn wiped his forehead. “You’re the most devilish Chalice out there.”

Egging himself, Po trembled, milk tears stinging his eyes. “What? No, I-…Fucking look at me. I’m a pathetic chicken who cries spilled milk. I’m not scary.”

“Yes, but I’m not looking at you, I’m looking at your aura, and the auras of the countless eggs inside you. You’re blazing like an inferno that could burn the world’s greatest strongholds to ash.”

Morn leaped to his feet. “Fucking hell, General Ney knew. Or at least he went down the same path we’re going. Damn right Guill’s decision to honorably discharge Po was the biggest mistake in the Wrath Army’s history. Po shouldn’t have been sent home, he should’ve been sent to Cheer the Pride Army’s sieges. We’d be winning this war if not for that fuckup.”

Scimi frowned. “No matter how I calculate it, no city has the defenses to withstand a daily thousand-man Chalice Cheer. And that’s assuming you don’t instead abuse the milk to have the same squadron of Generals who are good at using Hail just keep taking Charges until they bring the city to its knees. Po completely breaks the system. That’s not a simple siege, that’s a nightmare machine.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill Guill if you’re right about this,” Morn said, fuming. “Because of that bastard, Po spent the last near decade struggling in poverty when he should’ve been sitting in the lap of luxury with all the Ambrelloshian Queendom begging for his eggs.”

Po sniffled, waddling to the area rug cradling his belly. He couldn’t bring himself to believe them without knowing for sure. Couldn’t bear to hope he was really that awesome, only to be told later he’d been a dumb chicken all along. “I-I’m not anywhere near that special…”

Scooting across the rug, Morn took his face in both hands and kissed his cheeks and his lips, hearts in his own eyes. “If you’re a Chalice, you’re one of the most special people to have ever lived in Wrath City. And if you’re not, you’re still the most special man in the world to me.”

He couldn’t help a small smile, leaning into those calloused hands.

“We have to find out,” Scimi said, pulling out his phone. “Gonna call Thro and pitch her my theory. See if she wants to help us try a Cheer.”

“Do we even have anywhere safe to do it?” Morn asked.

“We can figure that out when we have the gang on board to do it with.”

It went to the answering machine. “Hello, this is Thro Wingstar! Sorry, but I’m out running errands. Leave a message after the beep, and I’ll get back to you when I get back. BEEEEEP!” An actual beep played after.

Scimi sighed. “Hey, Thro, I took a look at Po’s eggs and I have my own theory. Wanted to discuss it later. Thanks.” He hung up.

Morn pulled his scribbled list from his shirt pocket and cringed. “Right, fuck, I have so many errands.”

“And I have to, uh…” Scimi headed for the door, cringing down at the tent in his slacks. “Have to stop by the Lust Spa. Learm, your eggs are fucking potent.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Po said.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, heading out.

List back in his pocket, Morn stood and followed. “Will you be alright while I’m out? You could go across the hall and see Nunch and Kat. And Shin. And I think Betty’s there working right now.”

“Thanks, I will. Good luck with those errands.”

“Thanks,” he said, disappearing into the entryway. Then he reappeared and blew Po a kiss. “Love you.”

Po blew him a kiss back. “Love you too.”

With that, Morn shut the door behind him just loud enough that Po heard it, and he was alone for the first time in what felt like an eternity, but was actually only like a day and a half.

He stretched, then had a tentacle carry him upstairs where he found his duffle bag and dug out his laptop. It’d been a hot minute since he’d checked any social media or fanworks. Although it felt strange seeking the online world again after he’d been whisked away into the reality of Conquest. Should he still even care about this? Well, he did still care, and he figured that was all that mattered.

Except he had no internet connection. Right, he’d need Morn’s Wi-Fi password. Assuming Morn had Wi-Fi. He bought sex toys from Lust City online, he must own a computer.

Po wandered for a few minutes, poking through doorways until he found Morn’s office in the leftmost room with the window wall on the right side second story, opposite the bedroom across his apartment. His desk with a new-looking tower desktop computer and large curved monitor stood near the window.

Hoisting himself up onto the giant chair with a tentacle, Po booted it up, alarmed by how much faster it loaded than his trashy laptop. His desktop background was a photo of Thro with Morn, Nunch, and Kat in a stranglehold with one arm while she took the selfie with the other. Right, she taught him how to use it. She probably helped him buy it and chose his background.

Browser open, Po noticed the only bookmarks were seven stores from Lust City: Hazaelian-Sized Sex Toys, Every Flavored Lube, Oviposition Emporium, Monster Dongs, Ani Me’s Tentacle Hentai, Stupid Fucking Machines That Fuck You Stupid, and…Po Oltoy’s Mermaid Cafe?

Spotting a name similar to his caught Po’s eye. He clicked to the Mermaid Cafe’s store page. A beautiful, translucent blue inflatable anthropomorphic sea lion woman with giant balloon breasts in a miniscule starfish bra and sparkling seashells for hair balanced on a ball with the store’s logo in the top left.

The page began with a section of recent purchases, including a gallon jug of Ocean Breeze Lube, Mermaid’s Elegant Pleasure Eggs, two different movies about demon sailors being lured out to sea and fucked by egg-laying mermaids, and—Po choked—a seashell bikini in Morn’s size. Fuck, Po would kill a man to see his fiancé wear that. He came thinking about it, plugging himself inside so he didn’t spill eggs all over Morn’s chair.

But this wasn’t what he had hopped on the computer for. Po typed in Conquest’s social media page link and checked for updates. There were a few of the usual reposts and advertisements, and a couple announcement posts.

‘Hey, maybe Monday we’ll finally complete the Crystal Caverns and find The Navigator’s Chalice. Or maybe we’ll fight fifty-thousand more crystal dragons and throw Kat over the waterfall. Who knows.’

And from the wee hours of the morning:

‘Impromptu post while I’m about to pass out, but yes, Morn’s finally dating Egg Waitress.’

‘Now, I don’t wanna alarm the MornSun shippers, but we’ve got some serious fairytale shit going on. Like star-crossed lovers and love at first sight. Like brace your butts for a wedding episode.’

The comments were full of people celebrating MornSun, mourning MornKat, lamenting Morn’s exit from the dating pool like they ever had a chance at him, asking when the wedding would be and if they’d be invited, and begging for pictures of Egg Waitress.

And there was one. Oh shit, there was a picture from the village of Po, sweaty and overstuffed, chatting with the mages while Morn kneeled beside him. Most of the commenters didn’t seem to believe he was Egg Waitress though. Mostly because they weren’t blatantly holding hands or anything in the photo, and if two men weren’t undeniably gay, they were just roommates. The ones who correctly identified Po as a man fought over that—partly in a homophobic way, but mostly because Morn had addressed Egg Waitress as a Lust demoness and they wanted to take Morn’s word over some stranger’s claim. Which was fair enough.

Po searched the site for ‘egg waitress’ posts. He sifted through the unrelated breakfast pictures from various diners and found a few more photos of himself leading Morn around the village. There were comments making fun of Po’s weight, or defending him because his weight would be normal for a Lust or Gluttony demon, so he backed right out of that.

Then another post caught his eye:

‘OH NO I think Egg Waitress is an ovi demon. Guys, General Morn’s been EATING DEMON EGGS.’

Someone in the comments asked, ‘Isn’t that cannibalism?’ followed by ten others lecturing him for not knowing his own species gives live birth, and him defending it as just a joke, bro.

There were a lot of echoed ‘OH NO’s, a nerdy explanation of what exactly an ovi demon was, and finally someone guessing the truth:

‘HEAR ME OUT. We all assumed the spicy eggs were poisoned and gave him diarrhea because he said they scrape his guts, but you know what would explain that statement and his obsession better? Morn’s not eating demon eggs, he’s LAYING them.’

‘What are you saying?’ someone else asked.

‘I’m saying he either swallows Egg Waitress’ eggs whole or shoves them up his butthole and then gives birth.’

‘Like this?’ an artist with a gay flag in their profile picture asked, posting a rough sketch of Morn with his legs spread, pushing out a slimy pile of fist-sized eggs. It was fucking beautiful, and Po saved it to Morn’s downloads folder.

‘Thanks, now I need to bleach my eyes,’ another demon said.

‘UMM HOW FUCKING DARE YOU??? HUMILIATE A WRATH GENERAL?????’

‘Lmao, he’s a Wrath General, not a Lust General.’

‘Nice.’

‘Thanks for ruining Wrath City’s strongest general, you Lust pervert.’

‘Thanks for ruining Wrath City’s strongest general, you amazing artist. This is incredible.’

Then yet another followed that up with ‘Unfortunately that might really be what’s happening.’ Said post was from just now, and it linked to another unrelated post from minutes ago.

The other post featured a freshly snapped photo of Morn chatting with the Maid Brigade, probably about upgrading his subscription. He was obviously bloated, looking maybe a bit pregnant, hand pressed to his belly in discomfort while the maid wasn’t looking. It read, ‘Man, General Ingstar looks like he’s putting on weight. What the hell is that Egg Waitress feeding him?’

Followed by fifty straight replies of ‘Eggs,’ occasionally interrupted by pictures of omelets and other egg dishes, confused and horrified reaction images, memes, and someone else claiming Egg Waitress as an ovi demon and being berated for their conspiracy theory.

Shit, how would Morn feel about this? Po had no way to warn him until later that fans were sneaking pictures of him out and about. Well, they’d worry over it this afternoon or evening.

In the meantime, Po hopped up, took a nice long egg break in the medium bathroom to push out as many as he could, cleaned himself up, and waddled out the door, across the hall to Nunch’s room. He knocked and waited.

Someone Po’s size, whom he didn’t recognize, opened the door, and he startled at her appearance. She didn’t look alive, but she must’ve been, because she was moving. A human woman, hornless and round-eared, with sickly gray skin and white, lifeless eyes like she’d drowned, had been brought back to life, and simply walked home and went about her day like nothing happened. She wore an orange and white dress and hat, with an orange mask over her mouth and nose.

Po took a shot in the dark. “Um, uh…Bug? Betty Bugaboo, the Conquest camerawoman?”

Bug gave him a thumbs up.

“Crap, I’m sorry,” Po said, catching his breath. “I had no idea what you looked like, so you startled me. Are you okay?”

Waving her hand, Bug formed the words from ghostly mist. ‘Yes. I’m a Prowess user. Don’t worry, I’m a perfectly healthy human woman, this is just my Vest. I call it Betty Drowned.’

“Okay. I’ve heard of those; it’s a magic illusion, right?”

She gave him another thumbs up and waved for him to come in. Po did, slipping out of his slip-in shoes and leaving them in the entryway with everyone else’s.

Nunch’s apartment was structured much the same as Morn’s, except it looked like Nunch lived on the left, closer to the hidden stairwell, and Kat lived on the right. The window wall looked out upon Mount Tabbiramae’s cooled magma veins and magically grown greenery, and the wall itself was half obstructed by rows of plants and creeping vines.

“No, you can’t take the tomato plant to camp,” Kat said, pulling an entire potted tomato vine and trellis out of an orange backpack.

“Aw, c’mon,” an eight-year-old kid who must’ve been Shin Obi complained, pouting. He looked like a chubby child version of Nunch, with Nunch’s orange eyes, straight white horns, and long elf ears, but his skin was deep blue, and his wavy hair was blond with a green sheen at the tips like lemon and lime.

“You can take a bag of tomatoes.”

“Okay.”

Kat noticed Po then. A grin split her face, and she waved. “Yo, Poseph!”

Shin smiled at him. “Oh, hey. You’re Egg Waitress, right?”

“That’s me,” Po said, grinning back. “I’m marrying your uncle Morn.”

“Good,” he said, and the way he said it made Po snort. “Are you having a baby?”

Kat crossed her arms. “Shin, that’s rude.”

Po shook his head. “Nope. I have a curse where I lay eggs like a chicken.”

“Oh, awesome. Chickens are the coolest,” he said, giving his future uncle-in-law a thumbs up as he crossed the apartment to see him. The boy looked in proportion to Kat, but Kat was ten feet tall, and Shin was giant for his age—taller than Po. Made it easier to understand how everyone was intimidated by kid Morn in his backstory. “My dad is a chicken. He runs away real fast when he gets scared.”

The adults all chuckled at that—although Betty’s chuckle was just voiceless shaking.

“Where is your dad?” Po asked.

Shin huffed. “Sleepin’ like the fishes.”

Po snorted.

“He’s gotta get up and say bye, ‘cause I gotta go to Gluttony camp.” He frowned at the concerned look on Po’s face. “Just for the week. I don’t live there like Dad lived at Wrath camp, I just go there a lot because Dad and Kat work all week, and it’s more fun than hanging out with the maids and chefs. I like hangin’ out with other Gluttony demon kids. Dad and Kat love and support me, but there’s a lot of stuff they just don’t GET, you know?”

Kat ruffled his hair. “You’re so misunderstood.”

He huffed.

“I know the feeling,” Po said. “From both sides. I’ve had to get used to people showing me kindness and consideration but who forget I’m a Wrath demon, and people who assume I’m a Lust or Gluttony demon and try to bond with their tactics, and it all just goes over my head.”

Puzzled, Shin scratched his head. “Oh, I wanted to give you some fresh vegetables, but maybe that’s a Gluttony thing. Um…” He ran to the plants and picked a few, then brought Po a handful of green beans and cherry tomatoes. “Uh, you’re super strong and cool, and you protect Morn real good, so here are some beans and tomatoes as a reward.”

Po laughed. “Thanks, Shin.”

Chapter Text

“So, how’s the Warden working out for you?” Kat asked, helping Shin pick tomatoes.

“It’s perfect.” Po beamed, popping a green bean in his mouth. “I’m not good with magic yet, but I already feel a million times more capable, and living in an apartment made for a guy thrice my height is spacious now instead of exhausting.”

“Hell yeah. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

Tentacle hoisting him into a chair at the kitchen table, he frowned. “Actually, I wanted to talk about my condition. Did Thro mention her theory by any chance?”

Shin pursed his lips and tried to look more interested in the plants than the conversation. Right, he knew the truth about the Needy King, and Thro must have mentioned it.

Kat’s brow furrowed. “Yep, she told me this morning before she ran out to collect artifacts to help you break the curse or something.”

“And do you agree with her assessment?”

“I…agree…that if this IS an Elven Castle,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “It DOES have to be Needy King. That’s the only Castle it can be.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I thought everything about how Needy King worked was stricken from public records?”

“Yeah, it was, but we know how Castles work in general.” She brought an armful of tomatoes to the table and started setting them around randomly. “Every magic type has base functions it follows and rules the user must abide by. Castles are the most powerful by far, but they’re also the most strict and finicky fuckass rituals that require an entire song and dance to get going.”

“Okay?”

“So here’s how they work. Imma make up an example for you. We’ll call this Tomato King.” She grabbed the salt shaker and set it in the center of the table. “The Castle user is called the King. They’re the source of the magic, but most places that magic is super limited—they can only use it directly on themself. In order to access the full arsenal of their powers, they need to set up a Kingdom.” She unscrewed the cap and tipped the shaker, pouring a salt circle near the center of the table, then set the shaker inside it. “Welcome to the Tomato Kingdom. It exists in the Dark Realm, and bystanders won’t notice anything off about this area, but this is now where the Tomato King rules.”

Eyebrow raised, Po stared at the salt, then the fruits. “So where do the tomatoes come in?”

“The Tomato King goes out and collects them,” Kat said, moving the shaker outside the circle to one of the bigger tomatoes. “Being the Tomato King gives them power over tomatoes. They got some rules to follow, like maybe the tomatoes have to be ripe, maybe they can’t be damaged, I don’t know, but if the tomato they find fits those rules, they get to stick a Flag in it.” She poured a little salt on top of the tomato.

Flag. That’s what Ado did to Ambrellosh. And to Po. So The Clear Sky must have intentionally fulfilled Needy King’s rules, and Po must have done it by accident.

“Once the King has Flagged a resource, they get to Capture The Flag.” Kat picked up the tomato and moved it inside the salt circle.

“And what’s that do?”

“It has a few different functions. First, they can use the resource to build Towers, which are magic structures that make the Kingdom effective in the Light Realm in exchange for becoming visible and obvious to its dwellers. In this case, maybe a tomato acid moat, tomato catapults, a fuckin’ pizza trampoline, I don’t know.”

So, Wrathgard. Maybe also the village.

“Second, they can construct Armors, which are magic guards made of resources that defend the Kingdom for its King and enforce its laws, including when he’s asleep or away. In this case, rotten tomato guards that throw themselves at spaghetti thieves.”

The living marble statues, like Horn.

“Third, they can recruit real people as Knights, lending them the Castle’s power in exchange for their service. In this case, they’d get maybe tomato armor, tomato ball and chain to hit people with, tomato juice to spray in people’s eyes. Something like that.”

Okay, so Po had used the term ‘knight’ incorrectly to refer to the Armors. He wasn’t sure he’d encountered a real Knight yet. Or he hadn’t seen the power Ado gave them anyway. Morn must have been a Knight. Probably Shin too, especially based on the way the kid squirmed when she brought up the topic.

The bedroom door on the left swung open and Nunch stumbled out, wearing orange pajamas, with a flat chest and the small bulge of a fake or Borrowed cock at his crotch, yawning obnoxiously loud.

Kat acknowledged him, then piled more tomatoes into the circle. “You can imagine why Castles are so goddamned dangerous. The longer the King is allowed to just do his thing and build up his Kingdom, the bigger and sturdier that kingdom grows. In the Needy King’s case, his Kingdom covered all of Mount Tabbiramae and Magma Punk, his Towers were damn near indestructible, his Armors numbered in the millions, and his Knights were so ungodly strong and viciously loyal that it took all the world uniting against this one guy to bring Needy King to its knees.”

Nunch snorted. “Needy King? More like Need My Coffee,” he said, missing his mug in his drowsy stupor and spilling coffee all over the floor.

That got a laugh out of her. “I’m not cleaning that up for you.”

Hands clasped on the table, Po frowned at the tomatoes. “Okay, I think I understand how it works. But that doesn’t answer why, if I am cursed by a Castle, it has to be Needy King specifically.”

“Because no territory can be covered by two Kingdoms, and Kingdoms persist after the King’s death,” Kat said. “They can only be destroyed by an appropriate Darkness, and no Darkness user the Wrath army could find was powerful enough to destroy the Needy Kingdom, so they just left it up.” She shrugged. “Wrathgard is still Adoranma Roseblight’s territory. Which means the only person who could possibly use an Elven Castle to teleport eggs into your guts INSIDE the Needy Kingdom’s border—which Wrathgard one hundred percent is inside that border, even though we can’t see it—is Adoranma Roseblight.” Picking up a tomato, she bit into it. “Or a new Needy King user, probably, if one were to exist.”

He nodded. “Okay, that makes sense.”

So Wrathgard and Mount Tabbiramae were circled by an invisible border in the Dark Realm. What Po wanted to know was where that border ended. The main gate? No, that gate seemed like it was made by the Wrath Army. It didn’t line up perfectly enough with the rest of Adoranma’s aesthetic from the throne room. Lots of obsidian, but the sheer cliffs around the gate were beautiful and polished rainbow obsidian, whereas the throne room was made of rough and rugged volcanic glass and rock.

Then something Morn had said in response to Nunch telling the man to use his brain hit Po like a baseball to the knee: ‘He lived past Third Street.’

The Needy Kingdom ended at Third Street, with about a third of Wrath City built inside it. And Po had lived past that line. He’d had eggs popping into his guts both outside and inside the Needy Kingdom, and therefore no Castle was physically capable of causing his curse.

“Have you tried leaving Wrath City?” Kat asked, polishing off her tomato and grabbing a bag from a drawer to put the others in for Shin. “Not permanently, ‘cause I know it’s your home. I mean like have you ever driven out to another city that was definitely past the Kingdom’s border?”

“Um, yes,” Po lied, trying to look confident. Kat believing there was any chance his curse came from a Castle was pointless, leading them off track. “After I got cursed, my family drove me to Lust City to see if anyone there could help. Obviously we didn’t find anyone.”

“Damn, alright. Can’t be Needy King then.”

Nunch and Shin both quietly sighed with relief.

Po put on a nervous smile. “Actually, Scimi Tar tried some of my eggs scrambled on the stove earlier, and he has a counter-theory.”

Snorting, Nunch grabbed some paper towels to clean up his spill. “You actually do make scrambled eggs?”

“Hell yeah, Egg Waitress,” Kat said. “I’d try your scrambled eggs. Just don’t want ‘em, y’know…growing in me.”

“We can finally convince the audience that ‘scrambled eggs’ isn’t an innuendo,” Nunch said. “Egg Waitress’ scrambled egg challenge. That’s a Conquest episode right there.”

“Uh, actually,” Po said, rolling his shoulders. “We did want to recruit you two…and Betty.” He looked at Betty on the couch across the apartment. “To try the scrambled eggs, but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to do it on Conquest.”

“Why not?” Nunch asked.

Kat crossed her arms. “What’s Scimi think they are?”

Deep breath in, Po braced himself. “Hail Charges.”

Their faces went blank. Betty leaped up from the couch and floated across the apartment to join them, interested now.

“Haha. Hail…?” Nunch chuckled, sweating bullets as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “But if you’re full of Hail Char-…Cha-…You’re a Ch-Chalice…?”

Kat’s jaw slowly unhinged.

“Like a Devil’s Chalice?” Shin asked, eyes sparkling. “Then Uncle Morn won. He found the Chalice!” He turned to Po, shaking with excitement. “Can you really make Uncle Morn a demon god?”

Po shrugged. “Well, if Scimi’s right…yes?”

Gods, it hit Po like a hurricane thinking about it. He’d gotten distracted earlier discussing all the scary implications of his Chalice feeding an army and hadn’t stopped to dwell on the idea of feeding Morn.

Screw The Navigator—Egg Waitress’ Chalice would be the Devil’s Chalice to Ascend Admiral Morn Ingstar.

Shit, he hated how his mind set itself on that idea, because he’d be gutted if Scimi turned out to be full of shit like they expected he might be.

“Awesome!” Shin said, hopping up and down.

Nunch gaped. “A-and you want to test his theory by…?”

“Morn and Scimi want to attempt a Chalice Cheer when they’re done running errands,” Po said. “But they’re both Generals, so their natural Hail will get in the way, they said. Or something like that. I don’t fully understand how it works.”

Grabbing Shin’s backpack, Kat stuffed the bag of tomatoes inside. “Natural Hail takes time to recharge, and a Hail Charge cancels that. So a General would have to waste their natural Hail, which is destructive and exhausting, then eat an egg and see if it refilled their power. Sounds like a pain in the ass.”

Shin raised his hand. “I’ll try it.”

“No you won’t,” Nunch and Kat said in unison.

“It’s too damn dangerous,” Nunch said.

“You need a Hellfire, and yours hasn’t manifested yet,” Kat said. “Sorry, Shin.”

“Aw. You guys are no fun.”

Po slumped against the backrest of his giant chair. “What do you think, Betty?”

Betty waved more mist words. ‘I’ll participate, but not as the only Captain.’

Nunch retreated, hiding behind the couch. “Absolutely the fuck not.”

“Gonna pass on this one,” Kat said, patting Po on the shoulder. “Morn and Scimi should have no trouble recruiting some random Captains from the courtyard.”

“Haha, the thing is though,” Po started. “They seem to think I’m some really powerful Chalice, and they only want Captains we trust to know right now, ‘cause I guess I could be in danger if the wrong people found out?”

Head tilted, Nunch eyed him. “How powerful are you?”

“Very, apparently,” Po said.

Kat rolled her eyes. “How quickly do you produce Charges?”

“About seven hundred and twenty to one thousand and eighty a day, and I can incubate them from…What did Scimi say? From the Slope to the Peak? Um…I can incubate them in people for twelve hours to make them more powerful, like I’ve been doing with Morn.”

She froze like her brain needed a minute to buffer and reconnect.

“Oh, and my milk is a crash-canceling Dual Hellfire.”

Nunch wheezed like a dying animal. “Oh, okay, so you’re just ‘nuke the Queendom’ levels of powerful. Got it.”

Kat clapped Po on the shoulder, eyes dark. “Don’t tell another soul.”

Po startled. “O-okay.”

“Never leave Morn’s apartment alone.”

“Okay.”

She rushed to the cupboard and returned with a mason jar. “Lay me some eggs. Greed City’s not far from Gluttony City where I have to take Shin, and I know the guys who appraise and auction Hail Charges at the Auction House. They can be trusted. I can be back tomorrow morning with confirmation one way or the other.”

“Okay,” Po said again, taking the jar in shaky hands and hopping down from the chair. He waddled to Kat’s bathroom, shut the door, dropped his pants, and let his usual involuntary orgasm force the eggs out. Jar filled, he wiped off the milk that spilled over with toilet paper, sealed it tight, cleaned himself up, and brought it back to Kat.

After she finished packing Shin’s bag, she gave it to him, took the jar and examined it, eying the thirteen golf ball-sized obsidian eggs with swirly pink hearts, marinating in milk.

Betty floated over for a look as well.

Nunch stared a thousand miles through the jar, wide-eyed, shaking, and hyperventilating. “W-wow, it’s really that easy for you, huh?” he laughed. “Th-that’s enough Hail to have killed my entire battalion.”

Hands up in surrender, Po swallowed. “W-we don’t know for sure it’s Hail yet.”

Kat patted Nunch and Betty on the shoulders. “Guard Po like our lives depend on not losing him, because they do.”

With that, Shin and his father exchanged goodbyes, and Kat escorted his kid out the door.

Turning to Nunch, Betty weaved smoky letters in the air. ‘Do you want me to go home and pack a bag to stay here overnight?’

He bit his nails, pacing around the couch. “Why would you n-need to do that? It’s not an emergency. Nobody knows.”

‘Any mage who might’ve seen him on his way into Wrathgard might guess. Besides, if Po is a Chalice, a god must have made him this way, and you know the gods are never truly quiet. He’s so powerful he has to be a declaration of war, right?’

Po gaped. “War? Against Wrathgard?”

‘Or somebody powerful wants Wrathgard to nuke someone else off the face of this Otherworld.’

The boys exchanged a worried glance.

‘I’ll go home and pack.’

“You can sleep in Kat’s bed,” Nunch said.

With a thumbs up, she floated out the door.

Ado collapsed on the couch, wiping the sweat off his brow. “Guess I’m babysitting you until Morn gets back.”

“Guess so,” Po said, tentacle hoisting him up to the cushion beside the crimson demon.

They sat in silence for a minute.

“Is it okay to talk here?” Po asked.

Ado frowned. He got up and led Po into his messy bedroom, walking up to the wall beside his dresser and stepping through like the bricks weren’t there. Po peered into the darkness and popped a mind grape, doing the same. They made their way to that same stairwell with the Armors.

“Horn!” Ado called. “Horn?”

They spotted Horn down the other narrow hallway, near the wall where Po first entered the dark rooms last night. He was deep in focus, eyes closed, head swiveling back and forth as his ears twitched and tiny dark currents swished around his head.

“Horn, what are you doing?” Ado asked, stalking over to him and tapping his leg to get his attention.

Horn frowned. “That the girl of friends is Morn I swear to the gods if that dragon tries to bite my ass one more time, I’ll grill him. Not just kill him. Grill him. With teriyaki and pineapple slices.”

He sighed. “Okay, well, Horn’s bein’ Horn. Po, what did you wanna talk about?”

Twiddling his thumbs, Po watched the Armor’s strange focus. “A few things, maybe? First, I want to understand how Needy King works, if that’s okay.”

“Kat explained pretty well, actually.”

“Yeah, but Needy King must have its own quirks.”

“True. Alright, so, first, most of the Needy Kingdom doesn’t belong to me. I own my bedroom and bathroom, Shin’s room, Kat’s trash bin, that left corner behind the stairwell, two square feet of the throne cushion, and a lamppost in the village square.”

Po gaped. “Wow. That’s not much.”

“Yeah, I’m really more of the Needy Court Jester, because I’m a joke compared to my predecessor,” he chuckled. “I’m the comedic relief of Conquest AND all of Elven royalty.”

Although Po wanted to reassure him, he took too long deciding what to say, and Ado continued his explanation.

“But I’m still pretty damn well off, because I’ve got Needy King’s kick-ass gimmick,” Ado said as the magic white crown with teal and purple gems appeared above his head. “Because my Flaggable resource, my ‘tomato’…is your soul.”

Chapter Text

“When someone conveys to me, be it by actions, words, or even just the look on their face, that I’ve done right by them, or when I feel they’ve done wrong by me,” Ado said, looming in the light of the teal and purple torches. “I get to Flag them.”

“That easily?” Po asked, alarmed.

“Sure, but the more they adore me or the more I despise them, the bigger the Flag. For example, I’ve got a small flag in Sin Ging because he pissed me off drawing The Navigator on my truck, and because I made him happy by telling him I was cool with it. He wronged me, he thanked me, and that’s a debt he Needs to repay.”

Swallowing hard, Po worried for his old friend, but consciously trusted Ado not to harm him. “And you make him repay that debt by stealing his soul?”

“Well, yes,” he said. “But also no.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Yes, I’m sure I can flat-out devour someone’s soul right out of their body, and if I can do it, Adoranma must’ve done it all the time. But I don’t, because that’s evil. And I don’t want to be evil.” Ado rubbed his arm. “I don’t want to be Adoranma.”

He nodded. “So, what do you take then?”

Ado pinched his fingers to indicate plucking something. “I skim a little off the top, like picking a few green beans when they’re ready instead of ripping the whole beanstalk out of the ground and eating it soil and all,” he said, clenching his fist like ripping up the plant. “Never hurt anyone doing it. Their souls like…grow back, I guess? I don’t fully understand how it works. They regenerate over time, meaning my skimming is weak as shit but also super sustainable.”

“Sustainable Needy King…I like that.”

Ado smiled. “The bigger the Flag, the stronger my grip on their soul, and the more I get to safely skim. Oh, and another funny thing; literally everything has a soul, in a technical sense.” He trotted over to the left corner behind the stairwell where he owned a chunk of the Needy Kingdom. “Which means I can stub my toe on the kitchen table, get pissed at it for daring to stand in front of my foot, and skim the kitchen table’s soul.” He snapped his fingers, and white marble formed out of thin air, shaping into a perfect copy of his kitchen table, save for the material. “But it’s harder to feel strongly about random junk, so it’s harder to put Flags in ‘em.”

Po laughed. “Right, Scimi mentioned something about everything having a soul.”

With a nod, he gestured at the table, the stairwell guards, and at Horn down the hall. “Once I’ve skimmed some tasty, tasty soul juice, I can bring it home to the Kingdom and build shit. Like Towers.” The table. “And Armors.” Horn.

Touching the smooth marble table leg, Po pondered. “So, because everything has a soul, you can skim literally everything?”

“More or less, yes. As long long as I can get a big enough Flag in it and the thing in question isn’t too powerful or complex for my incompetent ass, the world is my oyster.”

“And how do Knights work?”

“The opposite way from Flagging. When someone conveys I’ve done wrong by them, or I feel they’ve done right by me, I get to Knight them.”

“And then they can skim from your power?”

“Yes and no. It’s still my power, and they can’t take from it without my permission. Also, I decide WHAT they take.”

Po jumped from a tentacle to sit on top of the table. “Right, you must be able to like…divide up the soul juice into different…parts? Because if your true power is Needy King, then your Borrowed Badassery must be…”

“Yep. I call it ‘Borrowing’ on the show to distance the concept in people’s minds, but it’s actually Needing soul juice,” Ado said, transforming. His skin brightened to pink as he grew a foot and a half taller, dagger straightening out and lengthening into a katana. His hair flared out longer, then whipped up and spooled into a bun like Kat’s. “That distance is also why I mostly Need things from Morn, Kat, and Bug out in the otherworlds. Because having to Borrow from people close by makes it look more like I have the Hellfire limitation of manipulating an object in my range, rather than the Castle ability of stockpiling power.”

As he whipped out his katana and did a sick slashing flip like Kat did, Po cheered. “Holy whoa. So you can separate out just the aspects you want?”

“Yeah. Or I could if I had more finesse,” he said. “I struggle to grasp what’s what when I’m going through the juice and Need more than intended. Like I didn’t need Kat’s skin for this, but it kinda just got dumped in with her height.”

“And you, what, Need her height for her sword skills?”

“Kind of, yes, because her skills are calibrated for her size, not mine.”

“So, bodies, skills, nothing is off limits?”

“Pretty much,” he said, sheathing his dagger as it and he shrunk back to normal. “Far as I can tell, the soul contains every scrap of information about a person, from their memories, to their skills, to the makeup of their blood, right down to any curses, diseases, or injuries they may have at the time. There’s nothing I can’t skim. Or there wouldn’t be if I weren’t a fuckass incompetent Captain.”

Po dangled his legs off the table. “You’re competent.”

“No I’m not. I coast off my stockpiling power, but I should be a thousand times stronger than I am, even without Hail or Ascension or any of that shit. When Adoranma was at Captain level, he was literally eating demon Generals for breakfast.”

“Well, how’d he get so damn strong so fast?”

Ado slumped against the Elf Armor’s leg. “He farmed hatred.”

Head tilted, Po mulled that over. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Adoranma wasn’t just evil, he was cartoonishly evil. Like Saturday morning supervillain evil. Fucker went around kicking puppies, insulting strangers on the streets, stuffing his face in front of the starving, flaunting his wealth to the poor, and telling everyone who asked for his help to get fucked. Sure, it’s possible someone of his power and privilege was really just like that, and we can’t know for sure because the records were stricken, but I think he was acting even more evil than he actually was, because-”

Po suddenly got it. “Because every time someone retaliated and did him wrong, he got to Flag them. And the harder they fought, the bigger that Flag got, until he owned their souls to do with as he pleased.”

“Yep. They didn’t even need to fight—insults and the fury on their faces would’ve been sufficient. Anything capable of hurting his poor little fee-fees. The stories say his enemies randomly fell ill when they tried to fight him within his Kingdom. Every time someone conveyed he did them wrong, he Knighted them, and then he got to pass them curses, diseases, injuries, and even self-destructive Hellfires whenever he felt like it. In my opinion, that’s how Adoranma fought. Needy King benefits from being a giant dick.”

“But it also benefits from being a generous, beloved, benevolent king,” Po countered. “Do right by people to farm their Flags, and Knight them with beneficial buffs when they do you right in return.”

“You’re right, and that’s how I’d do it—until people found out I was the second coming of King Roseblight and grew to hate me for the way I was born.” Ado shook his head. “There’s no winning anymore for a benevolent Needy King, and I’ve given up my ambitions anyway.”

Po wasn’t sure if that claim didn’t sound right for Conquest’s host, or if Po just didn’t like the fact that he’d given up.

Before he could protest, Ado hopped up and ran up the stairs. “Oh yeah, before I forget, c’mere.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, hopping off the table and having a tentacle carry him upstairs.

“Somewhere,” he said.

“Where somewhere?”

“The place.”

Ado led him to the throne. A rope dangled from the ledge high above, and he climbed up. Yeah, Po couldn’t climb that. He popped three grapes and had a particularly large tentacle carry him to the top, barely making it and scrambling onto the cushion.

The new king had made himself at home on the old king’s throne. All constructed from marble, he had a shed with a bed, dresser, and mirror inside, a copy of the courtyard picnic table and chairs, an aboveground pool, a pile of lampposts, and a tiny copy of the throne in the middle of the throne at the correct size for Ado to use it as a chair instead of an indoor courtyard. And a tinier copy of the throne in the middle of that throne with a toy-sized copy of Ado sitting in it. Po choked laughing.

Leaning up against the right armrest of the full sized throne was a stack of old framed paintings next to some other treasure and junk. Ado thumbed through them, picking one and dragging it out of the stack. “Here she is.”

He showed it to Po, and the egg-laying demon’s heart stopped. Stumbling backwards, Po fell on his ass and egged himself, pointing at the painting with a trembling finger. “Th-th-th-that’s her. That’s her. Oh gods…!”

A classic oil painting featured the witch who cursed Po—a tan elf with Royal Dragon Prophet piercings, flowing chocolate brown locks, a brown bikini, and rainbows of crystal necklaces, bracelets, and anklets—perched upon the knee of a giant that had to have been King Roseblight. Adoranma was a monster of an elf, barely recognizable but for his long, pointed ears. His straight black hair with a crimson sheen at the tips parted around five sets of demon horns. While most of his skin was pale, meaning he probably wasn’t a demon mix, he had demonic hot and cold mottling around his neck, and he smiled at the witch with glowing black and crimson eyes and dagger-like vampire fangs, magma-scaled dragon claw hands full of gold and jewels he was offering to the witch as she turned away with a huff of annoyance.

“One of my favorite paintings,” Ado chuckled, admiring it. “Rare snapshot of Adoranma simping for a witch.”

Po needed a minute to steady his heart before he rolled forward and got to his feet again. “That’s the witch who cursed me. Definitely. So her name is Queen Mollinacht Silverneedle?”

“No,” he said, pulling another painting from the pile. This one featured a beautiful pale Elven woman with emerald eyes, blond hair with a green sheen so long it trailed behind her like a dress alongside her actual dress of dried leaves as she crossed a glowing forest clearing to meet a green dragon covered in vines. “This is Queen Silverneedle.”

Blinking, Po looked at her, then back at the witch. “Then who the fuck was Adoranma simping for?”

He shrugged. “I don’t fuckin’ know.”

With another look at the emerald elf, Po came to a realization. “You know, she looks a bit like Shin. Or like you and Morn. Her face shape, and the green sheen looks just like Shin’s hair…”

“I know. Morn ‘n me think she’s our great gran.”

“Holy whoa.” Then he grimaced. “Shit, Thro’s story. She was sold as a sex slave to some human king? And then disappeared, but her son was sold? And if that wasn’t her who reappeared at Mount Tabbiramae…”

“Yeah, she’s probably dead now. Or deep in hiding. But information’s hard to get from the elves, so we don’t know. We assume her son, our grandpa, was sold to the Hazaelian Lust Army and used to make imps. Then his daughter was probably captured by the Ambrelloshian Lust Army and used as an imp factory for our side. We assume she was a Lust demon because most of the imp factories are. And they handle big litters better. Lust demons don’t complain so much about that fate. Stockholm Syndrome and all that, y’know? They live to be loved and often don’t care so much for loyalty and who provides that love. Anyway, giant Human, Elven, Hazaelian mix bred by a little Ambrelloshian dude. Gave birth to nonuplets to add to the other Ambrelloshian armies. You know how it is.”

“I do. That’s where I came from,” Po said. “My mother was the short, crimson mix Lust daughter of a Hazaelian prisoner of war. Equally short Ambrelloshian Greed father sired me and at least three others. I only remember ‘em because we hung around longer than normal because they didn’t have room in the camps for us right away. Then we got dragged into the foster care system instead, and that was an entire song and dance.”

He nodded. “You ever miss your mom and dad?”

“If you mean my biological parents, not really, no. But I miss my adopted Wrath family.”

“Did something happen to them?”

“No. They kicked me out. Because of this,” Po said, patting his belly. “They tried, but they were so out of their element. I don’t think they could stand the constant reminder of how thoroughly they’d failed to protect me, and I hated leeching off them.” Milk tears stung his eyes. “I was supposed to spend a few years at Wrath camp and come back as a stronger warrior, not as a damn egg carton.”

Ado pat him on the back, and Po spent a few minutes wiping his tears and getting it together.

“Did you wanna go back to the apartment to relax? Or did you have other questions?”

Po thought. “Yeah, I wanna know what the deal is with Horn. And that guy,” he said, pointing to the tiny replica of the king on the tiny replica of the throne.

The replica stared at Po.

“Oh, I thought I should learn to make Armors in case I needed them. Rika the Dragon Reaper I’ve been working on possessing just to see if I could steal Adoranma’s Armors. It’s difficult, but doable. The other two I made from scratch. Morn gave me permission to clone him, so I made Horn, my Armor bodyguard. I can call him for help if I’m ever in real deep shit, such as if the wrong person finds out I’m the Needy King, and I need a little, uh…sass in the ass for that person before they pull a little ass-ass in themselves, you know what I’m saying?”

Po snorted. “Really hope you never need that.”

“Me too.”

“So, why is his name Horn Miss Ingohno? No, that’s not the right question. Why is his horn missing?”

Ado’s eyelids lowered. “Because he fucking fell down the stairwell in a bought of hyperactive excitement after I tried to inject emotions into him. His horn broke off, I didn’t know how to fix it at the time, and the name was funny to me. I’ve since learned, but he doesn’t seem to care, although I’ve made it clear if he ever asks me to fix it, I will.”

“Makes sense.”

“Anyway, Horn’s not just a clean copy of my brother, he’s a jumble of junk from a bunch of people slopped onto a Morn-shaped frame. Height of a Hazaelian warrior who injured me on the battlefield. Kat’s swordsmanship skills, recalibrated with practice fighting Morn. Her Eye Of Opportunity Hellfire on top of Morn’s Pressure Hellfire, which I don’t know how to remove, and it seems I can only give him two. Scimi’s battle sensibility. Sir Knowl Edge’s skill as a mage, although Horn can’t communicate well enough for that to be useful yet. And a bunch of other junk I took from warriors around Wrathgard, Conquest fans, and Otherworld inhabitants. He is the perfect warrior,” Ado said, flat chest swelling with pride before he coughed, seeming to have trouble breathing deeply. “Mostly. Could always use more tweaking. And I’d really like to give him Admiral Gu N’s strength and Admiral Lon G. Bow’s precision, but Admirals are too difficult to skim, at least with the measly power of a Captain.”

Po patted his belly. “What about Chalices?”

“Never had the opportunity to try, but I’d assume it’s the same as skimming gods. Same Ascending power of heaven and hell, right?”

“Makes sense.”

Ado waved for him to follow and crossed the firm red cushion floor to the normal-sized throne, and the tiny throne atop it.

The tiny Ado replica looked up at them, face blank and soulless.

“This is my, uh…assistant, Oran Gejuicer,” Ado said. “If you’re up for it, I can Capture Your Flag, skim your soul, and try to transfer those eggs to this little shit. Not sure if I’ll be able to do it, or if not being able to do it makes you a Chalice, but trying might give us some insight. Also, obviously Imma put the eggs in this guy because like hell I’m fucking taking them myself. No offense, Cantaloupes, but your curse sucks, and one pregnancy was enough for me.”

“Fair enough,” Po said. “What I wanna know is why his name is ‘orange juicer’.”

Sweating, Ado looked away with a shrug. “No reason.”

Po sniffed the air, then the tiny statue. “Smells like oranges. So he juices oranges for you?”

“Yep, mhm. Juices oranges. Regular oranges.”

Choking, he thought back to the Hazaelian Heart-Eyes conversation. “Ado. Ado, you shove him up your cooch, don’t you?”

Ado smacked Po upside the head for that.

Chapter Text

“You said yesterday you feel Conquest saved your life,” Ado said. “And that means I’ve got a big honkin’ Flag in you, so I should have no trouble skimming everything I Need unless there’s some serious fuckery with the curse.”

“Sounds about right,” Po said, rubbing the goose egg on his head. He deserved that smack.

Fist clenched, Ado focused. Then he frowned. “I can’t do it.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“Curse fuckery. I can’t grasp your soul, or the eggs. I’d wonder if the eggs counted as a separate entity, but I’d still be able to grasp you, so something must be blocking me? Not sure what’s going on.”

Well, shit. Po just shrugged, because he had no idea what was going on either.

Worrying his lip, Ado fidgeted. “Po…have you ever drank from your own Chalice?”

“You mean have I eaten the eggs? All day every day, before Morn rescued me. I had to. Couldn’t afford to feed myself on anything else with how much I eat and how little income I had.”

A heavy silence stretched between them.

Po cracked up laughing as his heartbeat roared. “Are you saying there’s a non-zero chance I could be a god right now and have no idea?”

He covered his mouth. “Devil’s Chalice chilling in the fridge between the milk and mayonnaise.”

“Haha. That can’t be right.”

Ado shrugged, taking a step back. “I mean…it could be right? If you’re a Devil’s Chalice, and you spent years drinking from yourself, it would logically follow that you’d also be an Admiral. Right?”

“N-no,” Po said, not wanting to believe something so absurd. Him being a Chalice and using that to mold Morn into a demon god was one thing. A thing he could kind of accept. Some witch-…Some Lesser God, he realized she must have been, if Scimi was right…dumped her Chalice into Po’s bloated belly, and now he could let Morn drink from it instead of whatever the hell she’d been planning.

But Po himself being a demon god was another thing entirely. An absurd, incomprehensible thing. Even back before the curse, when he was scrappy and ambitious, Po never pictured himself as an Admiral. A Captain? Hell yeah. Totally doable. He’d almost gotten there. A General? Perhaps. The volcano seemed so tall, so grueling a climb he may never have reached the peak, but it was something he’d have liked to aspire to. But an Admiral? No. No chance. No way.

Lesser Gods were something else entirely.

Conquest once caught Admiral Gu N and Admiral Lon G. Bow arguing in the background. Gu, a twenty foot tall mountain of a man with a double-barreled shotgun for a head was shaking his pitch black fist at the smaller Admiral while Lon, a six-foot-six living skeleton in a uniform of translucent deep purple shadows that faintly showed his bones, with a flaming jack-o’-lantern for a head, stomped his foot and swore the larger Admiral out. The entire courtyard startled when Gu fired his gun head and blew Lon’s head to pumpkin seeds. Lon didn’t even flinch. He tore open a portal to a horrifying Halloween realm, kicked Gu through, and walked away, still headless, like nothing unusual had happened.

It was such a strange interaction. Death, pain, fear—nothing seemed to faze the gods. Po had a hard time picturing Gu and Lon as regular Wrath demons, even though he knew they had been before The Clear Sky Ascended them. They now lived a separate existence, free from the concerns of mortality.

And Po was just…a guy. He was just some guy. Po feared death and felt pain. He struggled against the world, against regular Wrath demons, and against his own body. Gods didn’t struggle with their bodies—they were nothing but malleable vessels, sculpted to their every whim, to house the gods’ tremendous souls inside Otherworlds.

Supposedly the gods didn’t feel their own power, especially if they Ascended slowly and lived a lax enough life. Po could picture someone strong going on with their life not realizing they’d become even stronger, but he couldn’t picture himself having gone on with his miserable egg-stuffed life for years without realizing he could change things on a whim. The thought was absurd and insulting.

“Doesn’t look like you’ve changed your mind,” Ado mused, watching him think. “I’m not gonna fight you over it. When Kat gets back, if she confirms you are actually a Chalice, then we’ll discuss the other implications.”

“Try it again.”

“What?”

“Try skimming again. I mean, you barely even tried the first time. There’s no way in hell I’m an Admiral, so it should work.”

“It didn’t, but okay,” he said, clenching his fist again. His eyes widened. “It worked this time. Dunno why, but okay. Whatever, Castle. Finicky-ass magic.”

Po rested his hands on his ample hips. “See? It was just a little glitch. Like a video lagging.”

“Sure.” Ado turned to the replica throne. “Alright, Oran, brace your butt.”

Oran sat up straighter, smoothing out his purple shirt and teal swim shorts. Po noted his ears and horns were blunted at the tips so they weren’t sharp against anything delicate.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Po asked.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, the eggs will be sized appropriately for him.”

Ado waved his hand, and Oran’s mouth fell open. He shuddered, clawing at the tiny throne’s armrests as his belly ballooned, pushing his shirt up and his shorts down. The solid golf ball-sized bump looked like a full-term pregnancy on his doll-sized frame. He made a strangled noise and squirmed, eyes turning to hearts as he soaked the front of his shorts.

“Whoops,” Ado said, mortified. “Never mind.”

“Oh my gods.” Po reeled from how hot that was. He wished he could do that to Morn. “Fuck, will that even fit through his pelvis?”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s hard marble, but also soft and malleable magic, if that makes any sense. Here.” He gently picked up the small version of himself, placing his thumb at the top of the Armor’s belly and the rest of his fingers around his back for leverage. Ado squeezed, forcing the egg down.

Oran screamed in eggstasy as his crotch bulged, straining his shorts.

Stopping, Ado seemed to realize what he was doing, and how into it Po was. “You don’t have to watch this.”

“I know,” Po said, watching intently.

“Like seriously. This is weird.”

“That’s fine. I jack off to Conquest.”

Ado just stared at him. He knew he could ask Po to go, right? Po wondered if he was doing the same thing Morn always did, where he was into something, but thought Po wasn’t, and wanted to make sure Po knew he could dip, but didn’t actually want him to.

Turning back to the task at hand, Ado pulled off Oran’s shorts and tossed them aside. He tried to squeeze the egg down again. Oran’s legs were forced far apart as his hips widened and the egg—white instead of black—split his slit. He screamed and cried as Ado struggled to push hard, but not hard enough to hurt him or break the egg, and ended up not making progress.

Dark crimson with blush and drenched in sweat, Ado set his small self on the normal-sized throne and curled up on the giant throne’s cushion in the fetal position, covering his face with both hands.

“Let me try,” Po said, choking on laughter. He gently took Oran in both hands and flipped him around so his head was facing Po, placing both thumbs atop his belly. “Okay, Oran, I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt. Deep breath in.”

Oran nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Deep breath out.”

He breathed out, and, when he was emptiest, so this didn’t knock the wind out of him, Po slammed on the pressure and forced the egg out. It bounced across the normal throne’s cushion, and Po had been rightfully confident it wouldn’t break. Oran sucked in a breath and groaned as he shook with orgasm for a few seconds before relaxing in Po’s grip.

“Good boy,” Po said, beaming. “You were such a good boy for me, Oran. My milk has magic that should make you feel better—would you like some as a reward?”

Oran nodded, so Po pulled one side of his own shirt down and let the little statue of his hero suckle his breast.

Ado was up again, gaping at them like a ghost fish.

“Got a second nipple if you want some too,” Po said.

He shook his head. “Um, uh, no, Thro wants a monogamous relationship.”

“Oh, right, I should probably discuss boundaries with Morn,” he said, worrying. “Most demons don’t care so much about strict monogamy, but Morn’s part elf and human, so he might. Dunno if it’s a biological or cultural thing. As long as Morn’s honest, safe, and comes back to me at the end of the day, I don’t mind. I don’t own him. But I don’t know what he expects of me.”

“Good for him,” Ado said, arms crossed.

Po beamed. “I think it’s sweet you and Thro want each other all to yourselves. Hope she finishes those errands soon so you can get some relief from this nonsense.”

“Y-yeah…”

Oran finished his meal and detached, and Po lowered him to the normal throne’s cushion. He’d drank so much milk it’d bloated him back up like he still had the egg in him, and he lay there twitching and wasted on pleasure, eyes stuck as little teal hearts. He was fucking adorable.

“And of course you have my permission to Borrow, or Need or whatever, my milk Hellfire, if you’re into it,” Po said, pulling his shirt back up. “Maybe I should name it. Um…Well, it protects against the dread from the Hail Charges, so maybe I should call it Dread Milk. No, that’s terrible. Hail Milk? Hellfire: Hail Milk.”

“Pretty sweet name.”

“I bet Thro would really enjoy juicing your oranges.”

“Sure…”

He frowned down at Oran. “Do you have a washcloth or something? I think he needs some aftercare.”

Ado ran to the shed and brought him a washcloth, and Po took his time wiping all the spilled milk and marble sweat off his miniature.

“Is that normal?” Ado asked.

“Is what normal?”

“Y’know…caring for him after?”

“Yeah. I need to get stronger so I can care for Morn better. That’s the best thing about having magic now—I get to be useful again! Man, I miss when I turned eighteen and got to start using the Lust Spas in Wrath City, and I got to dominate and pamper the girls. That’s also my favorite thing about Morn being a Lust demon—I don’t have to fight him for dominance or make him swing Lust to submit because he’s already there.”

“You sound real excited about him.”

“Damn right. Gods, Morn is so fucking beautiful. I love everything about him. His muscles, how huge he is, the way he gets all shy, and the faces he makes when he’s enjoying himself. I wanna-…I wanna do many things that I probably shouldn’t brag to his brother about, haha.”

“Mhm, and that’s normal to be excited about your partner’s body?”

“Yes, obviously,” Po said, finishing cleaning Oran and taking the tiny cushion off the tiny throne to use as a pillow for the little statue’s head. “Why?”

“No reason.” Ado picked up one of Po’s eggs he’d spilled earlier at the sight of the witch, then grabbed Oran’s egg off the throne and held the two side by side for comparison. Except for the colors, they were identical. Oran’s egg was marble white with an orange swirly heart. “Shit, how do we tell if they’re the same? Something didn’t feel right when I made this, so I’m not sure if it’s a cheap knockoff or not, but I don’t know how to examine them.”

Po shrugged. “You could Need someone’s mage skills, like Thro’s, Scimi’s, or Knowl’s?”

“I could, but they’re actually really overwhelming to use and require a lot of finesse I don’t have. Horn can handle it because he’s built better than I am, but…”

“We could ask Thro or Scimi.”

“Thro will ask too many questions though…”

“Scimi won’t.”

Ado thought about it for a minute before nodding. He and Po lowered themselves off the giant throne and headed for the stairwell down.

Horn met them at the bottom, arms crossed. “Wrath General Scimi Tar, reporting for duty is let’s just chill and watch some TV, maybe eat a plate of nachos and pass out on the couch.”

After a minute staring at him, trying to pick apart what the hell he’d just said, Ado gasped. “Oh shit, Scimi showed up at the apartment while we were screwing around in the dark rooms, I think.”

He and Po scrambled down the corridor to the hall and reentered Nunch’s apartment through the front door.

Nunch tried to act natural as he strolled through the entryway door, spotting the General on the couch, although he wasn’t watching TV or eating a plate of nachos. “Oh, hey, Scimi! Sorry, Po ‘n me stepped out for a minute.”

“No worries,” Scimi said, standing. “Po, did you tell him what we discussed?”

“Yes,” Po said. “Kat took Shin to camp and is gonna run by the Auction House to have some guys she trusts take a look at my eggs. She’ll confirm whether they’re Hail Charges tomorrow.”

Nunch nodded. “No Chalice Cheer necessary.”

“Fair enough. I’m guessing all three of you were too nervous to participate.”

His composure crumbled.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not criticizing you. Hail is frightening, and that’s part of why the gods only give it to Generals. I understand why you’d all be unwilling to experiment with it.”

“Y-yeah,” he said, sidling over to him as he pulled the black and white eggs from his pocket. “In the meantime, I Borrowed a bit of Po’s curse.”

Scimi scratched his chin, looking between the two. “Not sure if that’s a sign they aren’t Hail Charges, because I suppose you could Borrow the shape and style of the eggs without the Ascending power.”

“That’s what we wanted you to take a look at.”

With a nod, he accepted the eggs, turning them over in his glowing hands. “…No, yeah, yours is a clear knockoff, which is a point toward the Chalice theory.”

Po grit his teeth, not sure whether to take that as a good thing.

“I figured. Thanks for checking them out,” Nunch said, hand out to take them back.

Scimi didn’t see it, too distracted by the eggs. He cracked the white egg’s shell, knocked his head back, and dumped the yolk and whites into his mouth, swishing them around in thought as Nunch watched him, mortified. He swallowed. “Yeah, this isn’t Hail. Kinda good though. Milder. Like orange spice.”

Nunch gaped, red in the face. “Scim-…Scimi…you know that came outta me…right?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling sheepishly as a purple blush flowed into his bluish purple cheeks. “Yours gives a much gentler buzz of pleasure. I like ‘em. Hey, if you ever want, like, a blowjob or something in exchange for some of these…”

Hands up, he grimaced. “Uh, no, Thro wants a monogamous relationship.”

“Ah. More for her then. I’m sure she’ll love them.”

“Haha…Yeah, maybe I can convince her to try one sometime…eventually…”

“Wait a minute,” Po said, having a tentacle lift him closer to their eye levels. “When you say Thro wants a monogamous relationship, do you mean you two discussed and agreed on a monogamous relationship as what’s best for the both of you, or do you mean JUST THRO wants that and you don’t?”

Scimi stopped. “What?”

Sweat dripped down Nunch’s brow. “Um…”

“Because it’s kind of suspicious in retrospect how uncomfortable you were when I talked about my relationship with Morn. And you sounded so weirded out by concepts like aftercare, and body worship…”

“Well…”

“You care for each other after sex, right?” Scimi asked. “Cuddle? Clean each other up?”

“No,” Nunch said, and then raised his hands in surrender at their concerned stares. “That’s not what I meant. Look, sure, I realize those things are important, and I’ll definitely try them when she’s eventually willing to have sex again.”

“Why isn’t she willing?” Po asked, not understanding.

“Hey, this isn’t a cool conversation to have behind her back, guys.”

Scimi frowned. “You look guilty. Did you do something to piss her off?”

He groaned. “I-. Yeah. I did, and it was my bad, and I’m slowly trying to make up for it.”

Po frowned. “Did you call her fat?”

“No.”

Scimi crossed his arms. “One pump chump?”

“No.”

“Did you ditch her right after?”

“No! No, nothing like that,” Nunch said, fuming.

“Then what?” they both asked.

“You fuckers are too curious about this!” he snapped, smacking them both upside the head. “I did-. I didn’t-. Thro is-.” Clawing at his hair, he slumped against the couch’s backrest. “Look, Thro’s straight, okay?”

“What?” Scimi asked, probably not sure how that was relevant, although Po’s gears were turning.

“I’m trans,” Nunch blurted. “I’m trans, and I didn’t tell her I was trans. She’s only interested in real men, and I lied to her. I borrowed a cock for her, but I was bad with it, I disappointed her, and I’m lucky she’s still willing to date me at all, okay?”

Po and Scimi both gaped.

“Dunno about the objective morals of that,” Po said. “But I no longer like NunThro.”

Nunch jumped. “Hey, don’t be like that! C’mon!”

Scimi lit up. Scarlet ethereal flames bloomed off his body, burning like an inferno. Teeth grit, face tight with rage, he growled. “That bitch said you’re not a real man and left you high and dry?”

The crimson demon bit his lip, tearing up. “Yeah, I mean, she’s right though. Gods, I don’t know what possessed me to confess this to you…”

“No, she’s wrong, and fucking braindead for a scholar,” Scimi said, fire twisting around his limbs, neck, and between his teeth. “Sorry I’m swinging so hard toward Pride, but if you ever decide to dump that ungrateful snowflake, I think trans men are hot as hell, and I’ll show you so damn good a time you’ll never miss Little Miss Wingstar again.”

Chapter Text

Nunch slumped against the couch’s backrest, hand over his mouth, considering. “What, you want me to cheat on my girlfriend?”

“No,” Scimi said, arms crossed as his ethereal fire died down. “I think your girlfriend is cheating you out of a loving relationship. Dammit, I wish I’d known this earlier so I could’ve yelled at her over the phone when we exchanged theories. She said not to call her again today because she’ll be running errands all day and night…”

“Look, there was nothing to yell at her about,” he said. “It was equally my fault for not telling her in advance.”

“No it wasn’t. You should’ve brought it up in advance for your own safety or to avoid emotionally investing in a decent person with incompatible preferences, but it doesn’t matter in retrospect, because decent people don’t call trans men ‘not real men’, ‘liars’, and ‘lucky their partner is still willing to date them’. That is not a line someone with a heart crosses.”

He grit his teeth, but didn’t respond.

“Thro’s not just straight, she’s transphobic. A straight girl would understand your Borrowing. It’s not your equipment she has a problem with, it’s your BEING trans, and I’ve got a big fucking problem with that.”

“Dump her stank ass,” Po said, standing on the couch with his arms over the backrest. “She lied to Morn, and we had to bully her into telling him the truth. Her theories were way off, so she’s not even that smart. Throw Thro over the waterfall and Scimi Tar can be the new Wingstar.”

Scimi rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, we don’t have to kill her. She works for Nunch as an actor on Conquest—he can fire her from the show.”

“Waterfall.”

“No waterfall,” Nunch said.

“Anyone who doesn’t think you’re a real man, I don’t think they’re a real person. Death.”

“Gods dammit, Cantaloupes.”

“Not everybody’s body lines up with their soul. Morn will fucking kill anyone who’s a dick about it, and I’m with him.”

“Please don’t tell my brother,” Nunch choked, hugging himself in fear.

Po wasn’t sure if Morn would actually murder Thro for insulting Nunch, but Nunch must’ve been recalling the last time Morn caught someone who’d decided his brother’s oranges were more important than his soul.

“Besides,” he said, forcing his fingers to unclench from his biceps. “Scimi’s not replacing Thro because he’s never wanted to be on Conquest. He’s camera shy.”

Scimi swallowed. “I would…get over it.”

Nunch looked up, startled.

“For you. I’d learn to tolerate the camera. Maybe even learn to like it, I don’t know. I think I could do it if maybe I stopped thinking so hard and just ignored the audience like Morn does.”

He grimaced. “Man, I don’t want you to compromise your comfort like that for me.”

“I want to compromise for you,” Scimi said. “More importantly, I want you to stop compromising for Thro. If she doesn’t want to fuck you, she can go fuck herself.”

Po huffed. “Bitch can get back in line behind the Nunch Ucks fans who are actually thirsty.”

Nunch stood up, face tight with…annoyance, maybe? He looked like he knew Scimi and Po had a point, but didn’t want to admit it. “I’m not dumping my girlfriend just for a good fuck.”

Scimi frowned, clasping his hands in front. “No, I would date you in her place. If you wanted.”

“You don’t date. You’ve never had a committed relationship, Scimi, you just fuck around at the Lust Spa every night.”

“I would change that for you.”

“Have you even had feelings for me before now, or are you just doing that Pride-like thing where you get an idea in your head and double down on it?”

“Uh…” He thought. “Both? Both together. I’ve had feelings for you and Morn for a long time. You’re both strong, beautiful men, and I’ve grown to like you both a lot since you moved to Wrathgard, but I…I didn’t have the guts to say anything, because I felt you were both out of my league.

“Like you said, I fuck around at the Lust Spa a lot. I’m not committed. Ambrellosh denied my Ascension, so I’ve just been screwing around here for years. I’m Pride-like, which means I’m even worse at relationships than most Wrath demons. I’ve always felt that you and your brother deserved better, so I didn’t step up.

“And Morn has better now, but you have worse, so if there was ever a time to swing Pride and double down on the idea of dating you, it’s now. Or I guess it was before you asked Thro out, and I missed the opportunity, so…maybe I’m crossing my fingers and hoping you’ll say better late than never.”

His eyes darkened. “You think you’re better than Thro?”

Scimi met his gaze with his own determination. “You’re damn right I am.”

Po sneered. “The bar’s not very high.”

Nunch opened his mouth to protest.

But Po interrupted. “What does Thro like about you?”

He frowned. “Huh?”

“What does she like about you?”

“Thro likes me.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The crimson demon blinked.

“When she compliments you, what does she say? What does she admire about her boyfriend?”

He opened his mouth to explain, but nothing came out.

“Okay, so she doesn’t compliment you. Does she show her affection in other ways? Acts of service?”

“Um…”

“Gifts?”

“Yes. She just bought me dinner last night.”

“No, she bought you, herself, me, and Morn dinner on YOUR credit card. Try again.”

“I buy her lots of gifts, and she likes them. She gives me a beautiful smile, and that’s good enough for me.”

“I don’t give a shit what you buy for her,” Po said. “You don’t know what ‘good enough’ means.”

Scimi inhaled through his nose. “Excuse me for a few minutes.”

Po continued trying to jog Nunch’s memory for about ten minutes while Scimi stepped out, getting nothing but long stretches of silence and disappointing answers.

The Wrath General finally returned, wearing a shirt for once—teal with a purple collar and cuffs. He brought a bouquet of teal and purple roses, and a box of white chocolates blended with orange peel.

“Scimi…” Nunch said, looking so torn. He looked uncomfortable, but Po couldn’t tell if it was with Scimi flirting with him in the first place, or with how swiftly this man put his girlfriend to shame. “Mr. Tar…”

“I like how courageous you are,” Scimi said, offering the bouquet and chocolates up to the two-foot taller demon. “I’ve always been in awe of how easily you stand in front of such a huge audience and share your life. You’re not afraid to be vulnerable. Or at least you’re a lot less afraid than I am. Even just now, being willing to tell Po and me what’s going on, I have so much respect for you.”

“Scimi…”

“I like your sense of humor, and how you’re always trying to turn a bad situation into a joke. You shrug things off so easily. Too easily in Thro’s case, but most of the time it makes you so merciful and easygoing. You’re so bright and kind.”

“Scimi.”

“And I know compliments about looks tend to come across as shallow, but you’re very handsome. I love how tall and elegant you are. Your gorgeous orange eyes and velvety red skin. You’ve always looked so much more at home on the slopes of the volcano than the rest of us.”

“Scimi, I can’t accept these,” Nunch said, shoulders trembling.

With a deep breath, Scimi straightened up. “I understand. Nunch, I respect your decision, and I’ll be available if you change your mind.”

He looked stunned. “Oh, you give up just like that?”

“What?” Scimi’s face scrunched. “No, I’m not giving up, but I’m not going to force you. You said you can’t accept these, and I accept that.”

Nunch looked to Po for support and found a knowing look, but a friend unwilling to expose this secret without his permission. He rubbed his arm. “Sorry. I think it confused me because…the guy before Thro…”

Scimi’s eyes widened. “Oh. I understand. You don’t have to go into detail.”

“I just…I’m not sure I understand what a healthy relationship looks like…”

“Pans offers free relationship counseling in his free time,” he said. At Nunch and Po’s confused looks, he continued. “Lust General Pans E. Xual. He runs the Wrathgard Happy-Go-Lusty Spa. You could ask him for advice about healing you and Thro’s relationship if that’s what you’re set on, although I suspect he’ll tell you the same thing Po and I did, just with fewer waterfall threats.”

“Into the void,” Po said.

Nunch nodded. “I’ll do that, thanks.”

They all turned and spotted Betty floating in the doorway, a stuffed duffel bag over her shoulder. She stared at them with her blank white eyes, then raised her hand and wove ghostly smoke words. ‘Sorry. Didn’t hear much context, but I’m disappointed you’re not dumping Thro. I’ve never liked her. Bitch flirts with me more than her own boyfriend.’

Nunch flinched.

Po gaped. “Is she not even straight?!”

‘I don’t know what her deal is,’ Betty wrote. ‘She acts super tame and agreeable on the show because she’s being watched, but Thro’s kind of a creep off camera.’

Scimi nodded in agreement at Po, and Nunch didn’t protest.

Betty looked at the bouquet and chocolates Scimi still held. ‘I’m so disappointed he doesn’t want them, but what spurred this on?’

“That’s not really your business, sorry,” he said.

Nunch groaned. “I mean, I might as well tell Bug, since I’ve been on a coming out streak. I’m trans, and Thro called me a liar and ‘not a real man’ for not bringing it up before asking her out.”

‘Oh, into the void with her,’ Betty wrote, no hesitation.

“Yes!” Po cheered, shaking his fists. “Wa-ter-fall! Wa-ter-fall!”

Betty silently shook her fists the same way.

“Gods dammit,” Nunch said, walking around to the front of the couch and slumping into the cushions, but he did look reassured. It was fine if he needed time to let go of Thro, as long as he understood he had real friends and a safety net.

The group hung out for a few hours. They took a dinner break, and Po took an egg break while they ordered from the Kitchen Service. There was a special on teriyaki bowls, so Nunch bought a bunch of those. He, Scimi, and Betty each ate one while Po inhaled ten like he was starving to death.

“Sorry,” he said, stifling a burp as he stacked the empty bowls.

Scimi snorted. “Ingstar’s poor wallet when Learm’s done with him.”

Laughing, Nunch set his own bowl aside. “I mean, he’d better get used to it. I’ve read that an uncontrollable appetite is one of the first symptoms of godhood.”

“Not an Admiral,” Po said reflexively.

“I meant for when Morn becomes an Admiral. Apparently when you Ascend, your body starts to distort,” he said, making a face and wiggling his fingers like something coming undone. “And one of the first signs is that digestion either slows to a crawl or speeds up to a gallop. Your physical form stops adhering to the laws of physics, and your body starts tearing apart at the seams.”

Po swallowed. “You almost make it sound like a disability.”

Nunch shrugged. “Apparently it can be disabling in some ways. I’ve read a lot about it recently, because, you know…Morn.” He frowned. “Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like I need to really understand that Morn will still be, you know…my brother, and a person, after he gorges from a Chalice and becomes a demon god.”

“Yeah. I’ve always felt the Lesser Gods were inhumanly amazing and perfect, but…they struggle? With their bodies? That are supposed to be fully malleable and under their control?”

“They struggle,” he said. “Godhood isn’t the great, glamorous life mortals make it out to be when they look at only the competent Admirals. They’re not in control, not completely, at least not for a long time, especially without coaching or treatment. It’s more like their subconscious takes over their flesh. They accidentally exaggerate their favorite and most hated aspects, eventually distorting into something unrecognizable.”

“Oh.”

“I figure that’s why The Clear Sky wouldn’t Ascend Morn when he asked—he didn’t know or understand himself, so chances were high he would have accentuated all his worst traits until he imploded. Gods can’t die, but they suffer.” Nunch laughed, but it sounded like his nerves ran deeper than he’d admit. “Godhood is like taping a giant red self-destruct button to someone’s butt and trusting them not to accidentally sit on it every time they turn around.”

Po pictured it. Younger, lonely, traumatized Morn in his fancy uniform prostrating himself before Ambrellosh and being accepted into the Admiral rank. Undergoing some magical transformation and returning to Wrathgard triumphant and powerful, before slowly starting to lose it.

His appetite increasing until he felt himself constantly starving and losing control of his body. That beer belly refusing to dissolve no matter how much exercise he got. Getting bigger. And bigger. Morn touching his mountainous middle in the mirror, mortified and unable to understand what was happening to him. He was supposed to be a dignified, unstoppable Wrath Admiral—why was his body doing something so shameful?

Sex drive spiraling as his hidden Lust nature exaggerated. Fearing his height and finding himself taller every day. Bursting out of his clothes. Hitting the ceiling. No longer able to fit through doorways as he grew taller and wider, bigger and bigger against his will.

Horrifying, but also hot as hell. Po came at the dinner table.

“You okay?” Nunch asked.

“Nooooo…” he groaned.

He pat Po on the back. “Admiral Lon G. Bow told his story on social media recently. That’s where I got the info. Even posted pictures of himself in the Medic Bay. About a month out from Ascension, his metabolism slowed to a dead halt, and he had to have the rotten food pumped out of his stomach. Spent about a year stuck in bed while his flesh just…melted off.”

“Sounds awful,” Po said, swallowing. But he knew Lon ended up okay, and what really horrified him was that he saw Lon’s story in himself. Po stared down at his belly, wondering if this was how he survived with most of his organs melted together into a giant egg sac. Was it just mortal magic, or was he no longer beholden to mortal laws at all?

Now that he looked at it from this angle, Po’d had a distinct second transformation. At first, it’d been just the eggs constantly filling his stomach and bladder, pushing down and out through his average cock in a constant cocktail of ecstasy and agony. Then he began guzzling those eggs by the gallon, and one day, about eight months later, it was like a switch flipped.

His milk came in, filling his chest and balls, easing his pain, lubing up the eggs so they slipped out more easily, and adding something sweet to his diet, which he enjoyed. But it also made him easier to mistake for a Lust demoness, which he hated.

Having spent most of his time sitting and pushing out eggs, his ass filled out, providing a more comfortable seat, which he liked. It was also fun to squeeze. But his giant dump truck also constantly embarrassed him, knocking things over and getting stuck in doorframes. Inciting people to mistake him for a Gluttony demon, which he hated.

Po’s organs had always cramped from having to push the eggs around all the time, so they melted together to no longer need to do that. He had to admit it had eased his discomfort and made the curse more bearable. But it also made him feel disgusting and unnatural, like he’d become something…other.

Maybe he had become something other.

He thought about throwing his hands in the air and yelling, ‘God powers, activate!’ like Morn had, but that felt silly. Morn was just joking, but Po’s situation could be serious.

“Here, I can find you his posts,” Nunch said, pulling out his phone.

“Do you think…Lon would coach me…?” Po asked.

“Hm?”

“If I do turn out to be a Chalice, or an Admiral,” he said, drumming his fingers on the table. “Do you think I could talk to Lon? Because I…I don’t know. I need someone to explain what the fuck I’m feeling, because I don’t understand…”

Nunch pat him on the back with his free hand while he opened the app with his other thumb. “Lon’s a great guy. I’m sure he’d love to walk you through this.” Then he looked at the app. “Why the hell do I have so many notifications?” Then he clicked something, and his face dropped.

“What?” Scimi asked, gathering the paper bowls and tossing them in the trash.

Phone shaking in his hand, Nunch choked as the color drained from his face, literally turning snow white. “OH NO.”

Betty sat up, waiting for him to explain.

Scimi rushed to the table, on red alert. “Did someone find out about Po? Fuck, so many mages glanced him when he walked through the village.”

“No,” he said. “No, this isn’t about Po. Okay, well, that’s a lie, this is absolutely about Po, but, um, uh…!”

“What?” Po asked.

The front door slammed open and closed, scaring Nunch out of his Borrowed skin and making Po egg himself. Scimi reached for a sword he didn’t have on him, and Betty lifted her hands like raising a camera she wasn’t holding.

Morn waddled in from the entryway. He slumped against the wall, hyperventilating, holding a poofy bush he stole from somewhere in the village in front of himself as it trailed loose soil behind him.

The others relaxed, staring while he caught his breath.

Morn choked. “I think I fucked up.”

“Oh, you THINK now?” Nunch asked.

“What happened?” Po asked, rushing to his side.

“Well, um, uh, you see, I sort of, kind of, maybe might have underestimated how long my errands would take,” Morn stammered, digging his fingers into his wavy hair. “And how big only three eggs would be. I thought it’d be fine. The Maid Brigade and Kitchen Service have seen me be pathetic. They wouldn’t care. I didn’t realize there were rules against taking pictures in people’s apartments, but not in the village. I forgot cameras existed besides Bug’s camera.”

“Oh shit,” Po said. “Somebody took a picture of you?”

They all turned to his brother.

Nunch grimaced. “Mhm, a lot of somebodies took pictures. Wrath General Morn Ingstar’s gravid gut is dominating the trending tab.”

Chapter Text

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Scimi said, watching Morn slide to the floor with the bush he stole clutched like a security blanket.

Nunch turned his phone to show Scimi and Betty the picture, and their eyes bulged.

Scimi coughed. “Mm. Well, I withdraw my statement.”

‘Holy Rollingol on a roll of film,’ Betty wrote in smoke.

“Show me,” Po demanded, waddling around Nunch to see the screen. “Let me see.”

‘He has to have noticed, right?’ Captain Ton Fa asked. ‘I know the General can be pretty dense, but this is beyond absurd.’

The provided photograph showed Morn bent over a short counter, pen in his left hand, right hand wiping his brow as he pored through a contract. Despite his stress, his eyes had mutated into crimson hearts, and his full-term pregnant-looking tum hung heavily below him, straining his spine, having broken free from his t-shirt.

“Fuck, that’s a perfect photo,” Po said, sure his own eyes would’ve become hearts if he’d shared the curse. “Can I get that printed? I want it framed on our wall.”

Nunch raked his fingers down his face. “Of course that would be your reaction.”

Morn groaned, simmering with embarrassment as he hugged his bush. “My life is ruined. I can never show my face in public again.”

Po waddled over and kissed him on the forehead. “Everything will be okay.”

“No it won’t,” he said. “You can be the new star of Conquest. Gonna just…change my name to Morn Ingwood and lock myself in our apartment. I’ll curl up on the couch and watch you adventure with our friends instead, okay?”

“Morn Ingwood?!” Nunch squealed as he, Scimi, and Betty fucking lost it.

“As hilariously ironic as that would be,” Po said, struggling not to laugh with them because Morn looked miserable. Fuck, that name change would be so hot. “I don’t want you to succumb to shame and isolate yourself over this.”

“I know, just…I know it’s normal for a Lust demon, okay? Probably why I didn’t instinctually see it as a big deal until I caught people taking pictures and realized they’d share them around. But I didn’t want the fans to figure out what I am this fast, okay? I’m stupid. I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Fun fact,” Nunch said. “Lust and Wrath demons are objectively the stupidest demons because we’re furthest across the color wheel from Greed’s intellectual curiosity.”

“Sounds accurate,” Po, Morn, and Scimi agreed.

Betty floated over and wrote, ‘Is Morn actually a Lust demon? Because I’ve thought so for a while. When I moved to Wrathgard to photograph Mount Tabbiramae, the mages called me a Wrath human, and I had to look up what that meant, because typing isn’t a thing in human culture. And Morn only really acts like a Wrath demon on duty or on Conquest—when strangers are watching.’

Morn nodded. “Yeah, I’m Lust. I was put in the wrong camp and raised by Wrath demons.”

‘And you love those Wrath demons, and you’re afraid of losing your community if they find out you’re not one of them—like how Lust demons worry—right?’

“Yup, that about sums it up.”

Po sat beside his fiancé. “You’re not going to lose your community. Don’t get me wrong, they’re never going to let you live this down, but they’re not going to abandon you over it.”

He groaned, sounding unsure.

Nunch snickered, staring at his phone. “Cantaloupes is correct; you’re gonna be hearing nothing but egg puns, preg jokes, and eggpreg comments for the next nine months.”

Frowning up at him, Po sighed. “Can you at least pass the blame to me? I’m the idiot who forgot to plug his dick and gave Morn more eggs when I should’ve known he’d have to go out today. This is entirely my fault.”

“Oh, don’t worry, they know it’s your fault,” Nunch said, showing Po a comment thread of people reposting pictures of him from the village and arguing about his eggs.

‘It’s this fucking ovi demon who did it!’

‘Hold up, are you saying General McFreaking Ingstar let this-…this JUMBO SHRIMP lay eggs in him?’

‘Egg Waitress!’

‘She’s huge! Dear gods, I had no idea pregnancy was contagious.’

‘Fun fact: you can catch pregnancy by being sneezed on by a pregnant person.’

‘No.’

‘Lol.’

‘Morm igstar is pragent?????’

‘Mom Ingstar, lmao!’

‘For fuck’s sake.’

‘Fight on, Egg Waitress!’

‘Fuck off, Egg Waitress! Leave Morn’s perfect abs alone!’

‘Guys, it’s fine, he’s not pregnant. Egg Waitress just laid eggs in him, like ovi demons do. The eggs won’t hurt him, and they’ll be gone by tomorrow’s episode of Conquest. Everything’s fine, so everybody can chill out now.’

And then Lust Lieutenant Vibra Tor jumped in. ‘YOUR NOT UMDERSTADNING. UETERIS.’

‘What?’

‘Huh?’

‘UTRERUUS.’

‘Uterus???’

‘He’s not pregnant, just egged. We’ve been over this.’

‘NO. HEARDT EWES.’

‘Mam, go home, you’re drunk.’

‘Oh dear. Perhaps I can jump in and clarify the conversation.’ Lust General Pans E. Xual, owner of Wrathgard’s Happy-Go-Lusty Spa, joined the thread. ‘I think Lieutenant Vibra is trying to point out General Morn’s unusual eye shape in Captain Ton’s photo. As a professional Lust demon, I’m compelled to confess I think these are Hazaelian Heart Eyes. It’s a common Lust curse from the Hazaelian Empire.’

‘Morn has a Lust curse?’

‘CURNSE.’

‘Oh no!’

‘Poor Morn!’

‘Since when?’

‘Egg Waitress gave General Ingstar some disgusting, slutty curse, and that’s why he’s been acting strange? I’ll fucking kill her for hurting him.’

‘Me too!’

‘Me three!’

‘Death to the Egg Waitress!’

‘Toss her spicy eggs over the Crystal Caverns waterfall!’

‘Egg Waitress is a dude.’

‘Why are they calling a dude a waitress? Shouldn’t he be Egg Waiter?’

‘Her, him, it, I don’t care. Anyone who crosses Conquest’s star crosses all of Conquest’s fans.’

Shit. Although Po couldn’t really blame them. That’s what Wrath demons did—defended the people they loved. He understood why they saw him as a threat to their General.

‘No no,’ Pans interrupted. ‘General Morn’s not hurt, and Egg Waitress definitely didn’t do this to him. HHEyes is NOT contagious or sexually transmitted, it’s genetic or spread by Hazaelian Lust Admirals. Which means General Morn either inherited it from a parent who came from a lineage of cursed Hazaelian prisoners—and the General is clearly a Hazaelian mix, so this is likely—or he had an…unfortunate run-in with an enemy Lust Admiral.’

‘Interesting.’

‘Oh. Okay, so, Egg Waitress didn’t do this, so I shouldn’t kill him?’

‘Yeah, sounds like he’s innocent. Well, concerning the curse. He’s fucking guilty of those gods damned eggs, obviously.’

‘I don’t understand what a Lust curse is. Does that mean Morn’s part Lust demon now?’

‘If it’s genetic, wouldn’t he have always been part Lust demon?’

Pans replied. ‘No, curses can’t change soul type, so he’s still one hundred percent a Wrath demon. He’s also in perfect health. It just means General Morn’s eyes sometimes turn into hearts when he’s aroused or feeling intense romantic or family love. Most of his bodily fluids—except Blood, which is why we’ve never noticed on the battlefield—are replaced with a flavored lubricant, which serves as an excellent sexual aid. And because his sperm is replaced, he can’t sire children in others, but the curse would have grown him an enchanted uterus, meaning he can in fact get pregnant and carry children himself!’

‘Mom Ingstar?!’

‘Fucking hold the phone; then the General really is pregnant?!’

‘URANUS.’

‘No.’

‘Not pregs. Eggs.’

‘He’s infertile? That really sucks. Poor Morn.’

‘Quite the opposite! HHEyes wombs are extremely fertile; the men’s even more so than the women’s!’ Pans continued. ‘I don’t think he’s pregnant now, I think his belly in the photo is full of Egg Waitress’ spicy eggs. As a professional Lust demon whose job it is to know these things, I agree with the assessment that Egg Waitress is an Ovi Demon. But General Morn could absolutely get pregnant in the future! Possibly with rapid progression, or massive multiples, especially if either runs in his family!’

The demons in the thread lost their fucking minds.

So did Po, shaking with excitement.

“Oh, fuck,” Nunch said, sweating up a storm. “Fucking shit, I really dodged a bullet with Shin being a singleton.”

Betty wrote, ‘I had a feeling you had Shin. You never could get the details right about your one-night stand.’

“Right, I remember Morn saying something about you two coming from a big litter,” Scimi said.

Nunch nodded. “Nonuplets.”

“Damn, you really were lucky,” he said, but his blush suggested he might have liked to see that.

Po vibrated. “I wanna fill Morn’s fertile womb with nonuplets.”

Morn sat up. “What?”

Nunch glared down at Po. “Quit being so damned horny, Cantaloupes! My brother’s freaking out right now!”

“I know what I’m doing, Oranges.” Po waddled back to his fiancé, pulling him down so he could wrap his arm over the man’s broad shoulders. “Okay, so, I thought I didn’t have sperm anymore either because I’m full of milk. But I don’t think my curse works like yours does. I don’t think my fluids have been replaced, just flooded out. And now my Hail Milk is a Hellfire, and I have these little milk orbs I can control, so I’m starting to wonder if I still make cum, but it’s really dilute. But what if I undiluted it?”

“Cantaloupes.”

Morn wiggled his long ears. “I’m listening.”

“Oh my gods.”

Trailing his nose down Morn’s jawline, Po breathed hot on his neck. “How would you feel about having a big, heavy, swollen, squirming belly all the time? Nine months to see your precious abs again instead of twelve hours?”

Morn shuddered with arousal.

Po moved to squeeze Morn’s muscular pecs instead. “Maybe you’d even start lactating. Have tight, tender breasts like mine.”

He groaned, eyes turning to hearts. “Alright, well, since I’ll never be going out again, I might as well make myself useful. Could make some imps for you, if you wanted.”

Plugging himself inside with a tentacle, Po came from the excitement without spilling more eggs on Nunch’s floor.

Nunch covered his face, flustered. “Good gods, are you two always going to be this insufferable together?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“But what if…” Po stroked Morn’s beautiful ears. “Instead of hiding inside, what if I paraded my little incubator around?”

Morn blinked. “What?”

“I mean, they already know you’re an egg slut,” he said. “The fire can’t be put out now, so what if we fed it instead? Grew it bigger.” He pushed the bush aside and gently slapped his partner’s heavy belly.

Eyes flickering between horny hearts and worried circles, he frowned. “But…they hate me. I’m supposed to be this manly, powerful Wrath General, and I ruined their fantasy.”

“Fuck their fantasy,” Po said, kissing him on the tum. “I’d fantasized about Wrath General Morn Ingstar for years, but I adore Lust General Morn Ingwood more. You could do the same for Conquest’s audience. Give them a new fantasy.”

He scratched his chin thoughtfully.

Scimi leaned against the couch. “Besides, they don’t hate you. Well, some of them do, but that’s how social media is. Most are just worried about you. They wanna know if you’re okay, if you’re sick…” He snorted, pointing at Po. “Or if they need to rescue you from this jumbo shrimp.”

Nunch laughed, and Po smirked.

Betty wrote, ‘I don’t understand why you’re even worried. Does it matter what type you are? You’ll still have the powers and authority of a General either way, right? Po, Nunch, Scimi, and I are still here, Shin will follow his dad’s lead, and I think Kat will also take your side.’

Scimi frowned.

“I think so too,” Po said, noticing she purposely didn’t mention Thro. “But if she doesn’t, she can go screw herself. Morn, I think it would be best for your soul if you started acting like yourself on Conquest, and the haters can sort themselves out and cry about it.”

Fidgeting with his engagement ring, Morn looked around at his friends, then his brother. “Well, it’s not really my decision. Conquest is Nunch’s show. I feel bad for embarrassing him, and I don’t want to make it worse.”

Everyone turned on Nunch.

The crimson demon scrunched up his nose in annoyance. “You know what? Fuck my audience. I’m not gonna act like a giant dick to please a bunch of haters. I don’t need them. Morn, if you wanna come out as a Lust demon, have Cantaloupes fill you with imps, and strut around the Otherworlds with a big pregnant belly, I don’t have a problem with it. And if the audience does, they can suck my Borrowed balls.”

Po and Scimi cheered, and Betty threw her fists in the air as if cheering, although she made no noise.

Morn sniffled, tears spilling through his thick lashes. It was hard to tell, but the consistency was thicker than normal tears, and they smelled like strawberries. “Thank you. Thanks, everyone, but, um…Nunch, what about your Heart Eyes? You want me to say I had a run-in with an enemy Lust Admiral?”

“No,” Nunch said, no hesitation. “I mean, I-…Fuck. Yes, I’m aware that if you say it’s genetic, and I’m your brother, that implies I have it, and I’ll have to confess. But the other option is worse.”

“In what way?” Morn asked.

“Fuck do you mean ‘in what way’? You think people just have Hazaelian Lust Admirals walk up to them on the street like ‘Good day, sir. Care for a pair of Hazaelian Heart Eyes? Have a nice evening’. No, it’s a fucking imp factory curse, Morn.”

He tilted his head.

Po frowned. “He means you’d be saying you either happily bore an enemy Admiral’s imps, or had your own Han.”

“Oh,” he said, shaking his head. “No. I mean, well, I’ll say that if Nunch wants me to say that, but…”

“I don’t want you to say that,” Nunch said, pacing. “Let’s just rip the bandaid off and take a picture of us both doing the heart thing to post on the Conquest account.”

Hands clasped together, Po wiggled with joy. “I want that photo framed on our wall too.”

Betty floated to the second floor on Nunch’s side of the apartment, into what looked like an office. She returned with a hefty black box camera.

Po’s eyes fucking lit up like Christmas back when he had a family and holiday funds as she handed it to him. “You want ME to take the picture?” he gasped, heart thundering. “I’m honored.”

‘This is the Conquest camera,’ she wrote, nodding. ‘It’s custom made magic technology. We use it to film the show, and to take pictures of the warriors, artifacts, and food for our graphics and social media posts.’

He held it like his firstborn child, trying not to let his hands tremble. “I’ll be super careful with it.”

‘Nah. Like I said, it’s custom made for our adventures. This camera’s more durable than Kat’s skull. Even Hail couldn’t break it, so you have nothing to worry about.’

Nodding, Po looked it over. The camera was covered in Betty’s fingerprints, but unscratched. It had a large blue lens and lights on the front, with a big screen on back, and a side panel on the left that folded out for another screen. Powering it on, he watched the back screen display what the camera was looking at in ultra high definition, and the panel screen popped up an options menu.

Po’s eyes sparkled as it hit him like a dagger to the gut that THIS was what he’d been watching Conquest through for the past seven years. This camera was his eye into his heroes’ lives. He’d seen into the Otherworlds through this lens. Walked, talked, and ate with the Nunch Box through it. His emotional connection with the camera was instant and powerful, like a god’s fist to the face. Like his very soul lived in this mechanical eye instead of in his own body. Poor Betty would have a hard time convincing him to give it back after the photoshoot.

Nunch helped Morn up. “Where do you want us, Cantaloupes?”

Vibrating with excitement, Po looked around the apartment through the lens and found the best lighting. “Over here, by the window wall.”

The brothers moved where he told them to and crouched so he didn’t have to lift himself for the shot.

Fingers to his temples, Nunch focused, forcing his eyes into orange hearts.

“How do you do it on demand?” Morn asked, confused. “I feel when it happens, but I’ve never tried to control it.”

“Just think about something or someone you love,” he said. “I’m thinking about how happy our mom was after she had us.”

With a nod, Morn smiled at Po, and his eyes transformed.

“Stay just like that,” Po said, finding the photo button beside the back screen.

“Oh,” Nunch started. “You can also twist the lens and move it further out or in to adjust the focus.”

Intrigued, Po did that. The metal ring twisted so smoothly in his fingers. He zoomed in, bringing the brothers into the sharpest focus he could manage, interest piqued by the white brackets that automatically framed their faces to help him adjust, before snapping a picture. Then he took a couple more for good measure, in case the first wasn’t exactly what they wanted. And another three just for fun. And one more from a different angle because he was addicted to this now.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Nunch said, letting his eyes change back. “Now pick the best one, and we’ll post it to the Conquest account with a little explanation. Maybe repost Pans’ lesson.”

Po looked through the recent pictures on the side panel, admiring his work, and the photos and video from before today, many of which had been posted, but not all. He’d kill to be allowed to just have this and look through it at his own pace. There were a few really good ones, and he felt like they’d messed with him by not posting them to their social media for him to see.

Then a thought struck him. “But what if we messed with them first?”

Morn tilted his head. “Edit the photos?”

“No,” Po said, lips curling into a sinister grin. “I mean what if we troll the audience a little before we reveal our hand?”