BHM The Outliers by Xyantha ~Gay, ~BHM, Explicit

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Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
Warning: This one is a Gay romance type story, and there may be explicit stuff. Turn back now if that isn't up your alley!!

A depressed young man is sent out to one of the most dangerous places in the Outliers by his family, finding acceptance in ways he never imagined.

Chapter 1

Burning brown eyes glared at him across the huge desk. “Do you understand?” the voice was clipped with anger, and rising with each word. The tone was higher and sharper than usual.

“Yes, Father,” Hadd mumbled, eyes falling to the floor. A sharp smack on the desk made him start, adrenaline surging through him. After all this time, he would have thought he would have become desensitized, but his father still scared the crap out of him. He knew he had done something wrong, but he just wasn’t sure of what – yet.

“Look at me when I am speaking to you, boy!”

No matter how old he got, he would always be ‘boy’ to his father.

Dragging his eyes to the livid red face before him, Haddwin tried desperately to remain still as the urge to fidget rose. He also sucked in his stomach as much as possible, as if that might make him a smaller target. It was always brought up, even if it wasn’t the only reason he was being reamed out. Not that the effort helped much – that bulge was too big now for a little muscle tightening to hide. His effort only succeeded in making him feel like his lungs didn’t have enough room to expand, making him a little panicky.

His father looked more and more incensed at his continued presence, his lip curling. Despite the obvious agitation Hadd’s presence inspired, his father never stopped pulling in into his office nearly every week to rip into him for one thing or another. “I was told by your instructors you skipped class. Again. And that you were found in the bakery. Again. Is this true?”

Ah, it was to be his weight again. Hadd felt his face heat even more as guilt came over him. The fresh bread and tender pastries had called to him as he passed by. He had only meant to grab one, but that nice red head had started talking, and before he knew it he was so full he could barely move – a glorious sensation that almost made life worth living…even through days like this.

“Yes, Father,” Hadd mumbled again, eyes watering as they remained fixed, unblinking, at a point on his father’s left eyelid. Anything other than complete acquiescence on his part would result in worse things than a dressing down. Calling him on his contrary instructions would only escalate his father’s rage – and the consequences.

“What did I tell you about your eating?” His father stood, bracing his hands on his desk. His massive shoulders loomed over the desk aggressively. “Haven’t your mother and I made it abundantly clear to you that your appetite is out of control, and your –” His father’s mouth twisted, as if tasting something bitter. “Size,” he managed finally, “Is unacceptable? Why do you persist in shaming us?”

“I didn’t –” the young man started, his cheeks heating. He suddenly felt compelled to speak, to justify. Although why he bothered was beyond him. Even as his traitorous lips opened answer, he flinched back. Why do you DO this to yourself? If you didn’t keep stuffing your face he wouldn’t be able to do this to you! About THIS, his sullen side responded. He would just find a new...

“For god’s sake, stop staring at me so defiantly, boy! It’s disrespectful! Put your eyes on the floor where they belong!” the older man barked.

Oblingingly dropping his eyes, Hadd felt his stomach muscles burn from the unaccustomed exercise. “I didn’t –” he started again. Shut up! He urged himself. What can you say to justify yourself? Everything he says about you is true!

A large hand smacked the desk again. “Be silent!” His father crossed the space between them. “You will not speak unless you are asked a direct question, and then you will answer only the question asked you. If you persist in avoiding your studies and eating yourself into oblivion, we will send you away where you will be forced to comply!” he gritted, driving a cruel finger deep into the tender adipose covering the middle of the cowering young man in front of him.

It was a sudden move, and caused Hadd to inadvertently release his stomach. The entire high pressure bulge whoomped forward, engulfing the hard digit. Lower down, the button on his pants threw in the towel and took off, hitting the edge of his father’s desk with a deafening thud.

His father’s look of revulsion made him stomach drop into his feet, his gorge rising. All thoughts of protestation vanished. Why couldn’t he have the tiniest bit of self-respect? Why was he such a fat cow? He was pathetic, weak, and shameful. No wonder his father yelled at him.

Hastily withdrawing the hand and wiping it on his leg – as if dirty – the older man drew himself up, lips compressing. “Haddwin, your complete lack of control, self-respect, and respect for your family had left me no choice.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks and neck heat as tears rose up. So weak.

“You will be,” His father grated, shoving him out of his office. “Your mother has something to tell you that she should have told you a long time ago.”


Not for the first time, Hadd stared down at the lapping waves below the bridge. It was a long way down, and the water swirled in dangerous spirals around the pillars that supported the bridge.

It would be a relatively quick way to die, compared to some of the other ways…


The vortex of water whirled in an inexorable circle of death. If he jumped in, he would be pulled down, spin and whirled around until he died.

No one would be able to save him – it wouldn’t be reversible, like swallowing too many pills.

It wasn’t the first time he had seriously considered this option, but today, like every day, he was still too chicken to do it. He edged back from the brink, blinking away tears. If only he could find the strength just take one step over the edge, everything would be taken care of. But he couldn’t do even that. So useless. So pathetic. Not even worth the skin on his own back.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stared up at the stone supports above his head. He had been running to hide here for years now. No one would ever consider that someone of his girth could navigate the small cliff that supported the other end of the bridge. And he was getting too fat to do is safely or comfortable. He grimaced at the feeling of him plump thighs through the fabric, scowling. His big gut got in the way when he looked for footholds, his chubby limbs shaking from the effort.

Those lapping waves had called to him as child, the constantly moving water like a beacon of possibilities – no matter what got in its way, the water continued on its own path. He couldn’t recall the exact time that those vortexes had turned from a source of comforting, relaxing fascination to a possible opportunity to end everything. Maybe it had been too gradual. Now, that water represented his life, going around and around, down and down, with no way to halt it.

The beams wavered in front of his eyes. The hatred that had been directed his way his whole life made sense now, though. It all made sense.

Why he didn’t look anything like his father.

Why his father had seemed to hate him so intensely, and yet spoil his little brother.

Why his mother looked pained every time she saw him, and treated him distantly, as if that distance would fix something.

Why his father would often switch the anger directed towards Hadd into bitter anger towards his wife.

Not his father. George.

The only question that he had was why they had waited so long to tell him? Why were they sending him away now? What had changed? What had he done that was so bad? He had promised them that he would do everything they asked, if only they would let him stay…but they had been unmoveable.

What had he done?

The man who he had considered as his father his whole life had revelled in the pain that his mother was causing. And instead of looking ashamed, his mother had looked…relieved. Especially when she was told Hadd would not be staying with them. “Just…go, Hadd. For once, don’t be selfish. This is giving your little brother a chance at having a family. A real family. You understand, don’t you?”

Hadd felt the gnawing, empty hunger start inside him again. Screw it. He was leaving anyway. Might as well enjoy himself one last time.

Once he had clambered down the rock, he shoved his hands into his pockets again, feeling his belly bulge between his forearms. He beelined for the bakery, where Olivia would be baking.

The smell of fresh bread and honey made him linger at the door. The little red head was inside, and she waved cheerily. “Come in, big guy!”

“I shouldn’t,” he mumbled, feeling his fat jiggle as he shifted. His mother’s words still rung in his ears, and he hesitated at the last moment. Maybe if he showed that he had some sort of self-control, they would let him stay?

“Aw, come on, I only have an hour before the end of my shift! No one ever comes this close to closing. Come keep me company!”

His feet brought him inside against his will, and he seated himself at a booth near her. Who would have known that his parents would have done this?

The little red head, only a few years older than him, bounced around the counter, bearing a huge glass of milk and a few pastries. “For you to nibble on while you talk,” she winked, ignoring his gestures of refusal. She was always so nice to him, although the cynical side of him acknowledged her kindness had probably resulted in at least ten pounds of lard covering him. She never seemed to mind his size though, treating him just like he was a normal person.

“How was your afternoon?” Hadd asked, forcing his hands under the table and away from the flakey pastries in front of him. Occasionally, a tiny hint of steam escaped, showing they were fresh. No. Wait. Only take one little bite.

She shrugged, cleaning dishes. “Same old, same old. And you? I heard the old man hauled you upstairs again.” Her tone was sympathetic, and she cast him a pouty look of comradery.

His cheeks felt hot, and he watched as a trickle of fresh honey slowly and lovingly clung to the outside of the pastry. It clung for several long moments before descending to the plate, spreading a golden ooze. “Yeah.” Here he was again. For the last time, now…

“What a hard ass!” She shook her curly head. “But at least you know I’m on your side, right?” She winked at him again, making him squirm uncomfortably.

“I guess.” The bit of sugar she had sprinkled on top caught the light like dozens of sand sized diamonds, glittering fantastically in the setting sun streaming through the windows.

“Buck up, honey!” She winked. “And eat up, those are nice and fresh!” Her petite little hand rubbed his shoulder, making him feel awkward. No one touched him for years now, and girls touching him made him feel even more weird.

But…she was always so nice. A bite or two couldn’t hurt that much – he was already fat, and he had already busted his pants open. And this would be last time here.

Maybe I could run away? Where? No one wanted him; he wasn’t a kid anymore.

That thought alone brought tears to his eyes, and his fingers carefully wrapped around the treat. Tender pastry burst apart under his teeth, raspberry filling squirting into his mouth. “I hope that promotion comes your way soon,” he commented quietly, eyes closing in appreciation.

She rolled her eyes. “Sally says I won’t get promoted until I stop making mistakes in the baking.”

“Mistakes? These are perfect!” He effused, chomping into another one in demonstration as the sugar raised his spirits.

She snorted, and pushed a cart out from behind the counter. “Yes, finally, but look at how many deserts I had to make to get it right! All junk! If you want any, go ahead. No charge.” A bell dinged in the back and she darted away. “Oops! Be right back, big guy!”

Her rapid movement had caused the cart to roll slowly towards him across the clean tiles. Stopping the inexorable approach with his small, chubby hand, Hadd trembled at the sight of all that food, one hand unconsciously patting his side nervously.

He needed to be better. He needed to get this appetite under control. Now it wasn’t even going to be a choice; he would be put on a diet in his training. He had heard enough horror stories (read: just stories to anyone else) to make him tremble in his boots. He loved food, it had been his only companion, his only delight, for years now.

God, he loved lemon pie. What is wrong with the top cracking a little? Nothing at all. The tangy flavour burst on his tongue.

He was out of control. He had kept skipping lessons because he was just so, SO bored. All the things he was interested in – plants, medicine, food – were not considered real studies. He couldn’t remember things written in books, and people talking at him made him zone out after a while. He was expected to sit in that tiny room, scratching out words about boring wars and politics of places he would never even see.

And now he would be in some military camp where he would freeze and sweat. Suddenly that little room sounded like heaven in comparison. His f- George, has told him that they would pound the lessons into his head so that he would never forget.

He couldn’t see what was wrong with this cookie. Ahh…too many chocolate chips.

Ooh - was that carrot cake?

Maybe if he had tried to take more physical classes he would be able to keep up with his runaway appetite. The only problem was being around all the tight bodied men, parading around half naked and glistening with sweat. It was impossible to hide his erection, and he had seen what some of them had done to other gay guys.

Hadd bit into a slab of cake timidly. If they found out...oh god. If George was mad about him being overweight, the thought of him finding out he preferred men…An inadvertent shudder tore through him. He thought he heard the a noise, but after a pause, dismissed the idea. The only sound he could hear was Olivia puttering around in the back.

Maybe he HAD found out he was gay, and this was his punishment? It would be consistent with his character, if nothing else. The idea of forcing him to be around other men and chance being beaten at every turn would appeal to him, and his logic would probably tell him that it was something that could simply be beaten out of him.

It wasn’t until his hand scraped against empty wrappers that he realized he had devoured every bit of food. He froze, his other hand in his mouth as he greedily sucked off frosting. What the hell was wrong with him?

His stomach was painfully taut, physically distended to deal with the amount of food he had ingested. It gurgled and whinged as his body struggled to begin digestion, his head swimming with the sugar rush. Horrified, Hadd stared down at himself, trying to disbelieve it into non-reality by sheer force of will. His normally round and flabby stomach was almost rock hard and bowed out heavily, and his shirt was stretched taut over its width.

He had no idea how much he had eaten, but it was a lot. Shit. Beneath his straining pants, his faithless cock twitched against his leg, tickling along the hairs as it lengthened.

Olivia scampered out. “Sorry about that! I almost forgot to take out the pudding! Sally would have killed me!” She halted, eyes widening as she took in the conspicuously cleaned cart, and the very fat young man struggling to breathe, his shirt riding up a little with every puffing breath. Her eyes were wide, and she seemed stunned, her tongue wetting her lips as she stared right at him, chest heaving.

Hadd stared right back at her in horror. He got up to run away, but the ridiculous weight of his stomach made him clumsy, and the booth suddenly seemed tight. He rose jerkily, his stomach ricocheting into the table and plopping him back down. The sudden motion and pressure made him burp long and hard.

The young woman approached cautiously, like a girl approaching a wild animal stuck in a trap. “Haddwin, it’s ok,” she comforted him, rubbing his shoulder despite his efforts to jerk it away. “Shhh…did you eat too much and give yourself a tummy ache? It’s ok! Thank you so much for helping me cleanup!” she soothed, her voice calm and soft. Her little hand was oddly gentle as it rubbed, not cold or hurting like he was used to.

He had given himself a tummy ache. His sudden motion had made parts of his insides open up, and the food had shifted heavily. A dull ache was starting, and the young man slouched a little, ashamed. “Sorry, Olivia…”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it!” She winked. “A handsome growing boy like you needs as much food as you can get! You can come over any time and have as much as you want!”

That offer both terrified and excited him, as did the feel of her hand moving from his shoulder to his stomach. She patted the top of that hard orb, which was still fat enough to jiggle sluggishly under her touch, and slid sown a little. “Actually, I have to start a diet,” He mumbled, freezing, as if that would stop the fat from rippling.

“Oooh! It makes sense now! I always start off my diets with a big bang, too!” she replied sunnily, although the corners of her mouth turned down, and she removed her hand slowly.

Yeah. That was it. “Yeah,” he mumbled stupidly.

“Well, I have to close up soon, but how about you just sit and digest for a bit?”

He nodded, miserable. He was too fat to even stand up. Too fat to be happy. George’s revolted face flashed across his mind. No one would ever want a disgusting tub of lard like him. He was pathetic. Too stupid to excel in class, too fat to do normal exercises. Too weak to stop himself from glutting himself like a pig at a trough. Who would want to touch him? Tears rose up, and he closed his eyes in answer.

He allowed his own hands to rove across the expanse of his belly, lip curling in derision to discover his shirt wasn’t even meeting his waistband, and was so tight as to appear painted on. He stayed like that for a while, listening to Olivia cleaning up. Occasionally, she came by and squeezed his shoulder. Her touch comforted but also enraged. Didn’t she see how disgustingly fat he was? Now that he was stuffed, he felt a tickle of resentment to her for letting it happen. Shame rose up at the thought. It’s your fault, not hers.

Shifting slowly, he swung his legs out into the aisle, preparing to stand. He should go for a walk, right now, and burn some of the food off before he got even fatter. Putting his right hand on the table and the left on the back of the booth, he leveraged himself into an upright position with a grunt. Maybe, maybe if I show a bit more motivation and self control…maybe they would let me stay a little longer?

“Hhh-Haddwin?” His mother’s appalled whisper rang out.

Standing straighter in surprise, Hadd felt the lower part of his belly distend down and out, his shirt skittering a little higher. Sudden cool air against his skin made him shiver. “Hello Mother,” he mumbled, raising his eyes fearfully to her face.

His skin tingled around his navel, the skin feeling ad fragile and hot as his emotions. Self-hatred warred with habitual fear and respect, making him sweat and shiver by turns. Shit, shit, shit, shit…

She had a client next to her. The distaste on her face was plain, but it was the pity and revulsion that on both of their faces that made something in him snap. She looked ashamed, trying to shield the eyes of Olivia, who had approached at their arrival.

Olivia protested the bills the older woman shoved into her hands, but his mother insisted, voice breaking. “I am so sorry you had to witness that, my dear. Don’t worry, he won’t be a problem soon. ”

“No, really…” Olivia stepped towards him, her face scrunched. “Hadd, wait! What does she mean?” Her pretty red ponytail swished as she shook her head, hand outstretched.

He didn’t want her pity. Hadd kept his head down, using the sweater his mother provided to cover his lower belly as he waddled out. It was too late for him, now. There was no coming back from this, he realized, looking at his mother’s face. “Bye, Olivia…”

George snatched the sweater from him as he exited, face a thundercloud. “That’s it,” he hissed. “This was the last time.” He threw the sweater on the ground in a rage.

His little brother gathered up the sweater, peering up at him in confused way. “Hi Haddy!” he squeaked in his little piping voice. “Look, I brought Mr. Rabbit! Say hello to Haddy!”

“Hey little guy,” Hadd mumbled, tousling the sandy curls. If nothing else, his little brother shouldn’t be forced to deal with his problems. He didn’t have to know anything was wrong, not yet.

His hand was knocked away. “Don’t you touch him. You are no longer part of this family, do you understand me? You will be leaving in two days for the Outliers. Gather your things and get out. I don’t know or care where you stay until then, as long as it is out of our sight and out of our lives.”

“Th…the Outliers?” Hadd gaped, appalled. It encompassed some of the harshest areas – the most extreme environments. Only the best went there, because the chances of being critical injured were so high. It took years of training to even qualify for a rotation. “I’ll die!” was the only thing he could think of to say.

The lad was shoved towards their mother, who tried to usher him inside. Breaking free for a moment, Todd beelined for Hadd, throwing his arms around his waist and planting a big, childish kiss on his belly. “Take Mr. Rabbit,” he advised sagely. “He makes everything better when I am sad.” He shoved the little stuffy into his hand, zipping back to their mother.

Hadd hid the toy in his pocket as the older man bowed up to him, a snarl over his face. Leaning in closely, he elbowed him once in his overfull gut. “Good,” he growled.

The man may not have been in the army for years, but neither was he a slouch. That close up punch knocked all the air out of him and made his glutted gorge rise. Hadd wheezed, trying to catch his breath and not vomit at the same time.

“Maybe if I had done that more often, you wouldn’t so weak now,” he gritted out. “It makes sense why you turned out as you have. No son of mine would have been like this.” He stalked inside, jaw locked.

Hadd closed his eyes, wrapping his chubby arms around himself as he sank down on the side of the walkway for a moment to gather his wits.

It was true. Everything he said was true.



Well-Known Member
Jun 6, 2014
Great beginning. I look forward to reading the next installment. :)

Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
Chapter 2

Haddwin had never been so miserable in his life. He would gladly have gone home, taken whatever his family threw at him, done better in classes, and exercise every day - if only he could go home. It was a gnawing pit in his stomach - even worse than the hunger. What did Todd think? Did they even notice he was gone?

The journey had been cold and wet, and he wasn’t equipped to deal with it - emotionally or physically. Especially physically. He strongly suspected that he didn’t have – nor would he be provided – with any equipment or training. It didn’t seem likely, even to his own scant knowledge on the subject, that they would send someone green as grass (and fat as a sow) to one of the most dangerous places in the Outliers. He must have been skipped through some sort of integral training or missed out on equipment…probably at George’s request. Was he trying to actively kill him? The thought pained him, but didn’t seem so far out of the realm of possibility as it once would have been.

The clothes on his back were the same he had worn three days ago, and the only wordly possessions that he had at his disposal could fit into the palms of his hands.

A canteen, slipped to him by a sympathetic travelling companion who had gotten off two weeks ago.

About ten feet of slender rope, filched.

Twelve tiny dried dates he had traded for his silver ring.

And his little brother’s tiny stuffed bunny, which he had thrust into his arms as George had torn them apart.

The area of the Outlier he was traveling to was mountainous, and snowy – that much he could recall from his geography lessons. The only food and water was sourced from streams and local flora and fauna. Supplies were rarely dropped in. He didn’t really even understand why people patrolled the Outlier’s.

Maybe you should have paid more attention in history class. He sighed.

The trip had been rough enough, and it hadn’t even required much effort on his part. He had been dumped at a wharf, and told which boat to take. Once on board, he had been relegated to a tiny niche, barely big enough to fit his body, with no blankets, food or water. Once a day, he had been allowed up onto deck to void his bowels and take in some food and water before being sent back down.

Now, he sat in the cart that had taken him the remainder of his journey, shivering as cold leaked through the wood, and wondering how long it would be until they stopped.

Hadd had no illusions as to his own capabilities. He couldn’t do anything physically, and he wasn’t even that bright mentally. Not to mention he had zero idea of how to catch or cook his own food. Even if the elements didn’t kill him, his companions might, because he was going to be a big, fat, stupid burden.

I am going to die. He was resigned to that fact, and only regretted the suffering he was going to experience first. The bridge would have been easier. Why couldn’t he have had an iota of motivation, just for a second, to step off that ledge when he had the chance?

These thoughts had so wholly engrossed him that he didn’t even notice they had stopped moving. The door swung open, and light blinded him.

“Welcome to our humble abode,” a drawling voice rang out.

The young man shuffled forward, his possessions clutched tightly to his chest, squinting. Cold blasted his tender flesh, and he flinched back. If the inside of the cart had been chill, this was bitter.

“Aw, hells no,” a different voice groaned. “Really? What the hell is this?”

Slowly, shapes began to take shape in the glaring whiteness. There seemed to be about a dozen, all well wrapped in warm clothing and furs, their head gear pulled aside so their faces were visible. They all exuded an air of fitness, strength, and capability. The two in front were looking him over. The tall one urbanely, the shorter in a hopeless, angry sort of way.

After a long moment the tall one spoke – it was the same voice as the one who had spoken first. “So this is Haddwin…?” His voice trailed off, inviting a response to fill in the blank.

“I don’t have a last name,” Haddwin muttered, flushing under the piercing gaze. Not anymore.

“’Haddwin’? Indeed?” the other man said silkily. “Well. Welcome, Haddwin of NoName. And of no supplies as well, I see.” His tone was not angry, confused, or disapproving. He clad in an indeterminate greyish colour, somewhat patchy in pattern. A scarf dangled from a hand, and he had pushed his mask aside to reveal his face, which regarded him impassively.

What could he say to that? He was right. Hadd lowered his gaze, but jerked it up as the shorter one spoke again.

“Are you sure there hasn’t been some sort of mistake?” He was asking the driver desperately. “There is no way he,” he said, encompassing the shivering, rotund form before him, “Was the one. There must have been some sort of mistake,” he repeated. “We were expecting two, anyway.”

“Nawp.” The driver said shortly.

The short one began a one sided, heated argument, to which his only responses were ‘Yerp.’ Or ‘Nawp.’

Haddwin met the eyes of the taller one and hastily withdrew his gaze, peering around timidly. Even though he wasn’t looking at the man, he felt himself the object of intense scrutiny. His teeth chattered, and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets to try and retain a little warmth. Cold blasts cut through his dirty sweater and jacket with ease, and his ears were starting to burn.

He felt like a piece of meat at market as he was considered by the man before him. The others in the group frowned or shifted uneasily, eyes scanning the horizon and sky, but the leader’s – he assumed he was the leader – eyes remained firmly fastened. Finally, the man uncrossed his arms and covered the distance between him in several flowing strides.

“I am Khorg, your commander,” he said quietly. “You understand there is no going back?”

“Yes,” Hadd tried not to snivel. He almost told the man why he was here, but held his tongue. He got the impression that this man was not one who liked listening to whiners, and that it wouldn’t help in any case. My Papa isn’t my real papa and he kicked me out? How pathetic did that sound?

He tried to meet the other man’s unnerving gaze. The other’s eyes were framed, top and bottom, in long, thick black lashes. The outside of his iris was ringed dark brown, with the inner part looking almost red brown. Hadd had only seen blue eyes like that, before. His pupils were pinpricks against the light, revealing a sort of pattern where the dark part of his iris faded in. It reminded him of a hawk.

“Ah, the little rabbit isn’t completely frightened. You should be.” That soft voice lowered intimately, threateningly. “Without clothes, food, and water, you will die. You know this?”

“I know,” was the miserable but resigned response. Hadd tried not to inhale the aggressively musky scent of the man in front of him, or appreciate his bulging muscles. It hardly seemed the time or the place, but his traitorous heart was pounding away, heating his skin against the chill wind.

High cheekbones stood out against his tan skin, and his brow ridges stuck out enough to moodily shadow his eyes at times. Firm and full lips, stubble…he was just…wow. His new commander would have made every girl at home swoon.

Khorg was also gifted with height. He was probably over six three, but was hardly willowy. His figure was obscured by the thick clothing he wore, but its lines were apparent even so. His thick belt was cinched tightly around a lean waist and narrow hips. His shoulders were massive compared to his lower torso, and his arms not much less so. His legs were long and graceful, but his thighs were thick with muscle, adding even more strongly to the appearance of a tiny waist. He used that height, forcing Hadd to look up into the light to try and meet his gaze. “Then why are you here?”

Hadd looked down. Right at his crotch. Daaaamnnnn. The pants were probably meant to be loose, but they hugged his thighs and stretched taut across his bulging package. The distressed lad forced himself to go numb, a skill honed by years of practice. He exhaled, anticipating the beating that was to follow for his insubordination. Because he couldn’t say anything.

The interval of waiting was torturous. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth against the shivers that were wracking his body. Finally, he cracked his eyes open. Movement caused him to flinch back involuntarily, expecting a blow. Instead, something warm was draped around his neck, providing an instant screen from the wind. Shocked, Hadd looked up into the other man’s eyes.

Khorg met his gaze briefly. He pulled out a pair of spare gloves from his belt. When Hadd made no move to take them, his hands were taken firmly and the gloves put on for him. “Unfortunately,” Khorg said in a low tone, “In this climate, those unequipped die. I cannot ask the others to sacrifice their own equipment for your sake – this would risk their lives. You must catch as catch can. Do you understand? You will live or die based on luck and determination alone.” His face was impassive, his tone equally as expressionless. He didn’t seem to care either way which the result was to be.

“Y…Yes..” Hadd said, face on fire. The man was adjusting the scarf, making it into a sort of covering that wrapped around his neck, ears, head, and part of his face. Occasionally, those large fingers would brush his face, causing Hadd to shiver much more than the cold.

“I will have your story from you,” Khorg smiled. It wasn’t a particularly friendly gesture. “One way - or the other.” He stepped back, sighing. “It is four days until we reach a place that will provide any sort of substantial shelter or equipment. Keep that scarf over your eyes. Either you will make it, or you will not.”


It began to feel as if he wouldn’t. Make it, that was.

The longest walk he had been on in the last year was a half an hour stroll with his little brother by the lake. He could climb a bit, sure, but this was not the same. None of the men spoke to each other beyond what seemed strictly necessary to their movement. Occasionally, they would flash a curious glance at him, but otherwise left him alone. Hadd was secretly glad for it. He barely had the strength to lift one foot out of the snow and place it back down without collapsing.

His feet hurt, his calves hurt, his thighs hurt. His back ached, his head ached – even his eyes ached. He tried to keep the scarf over his eyes, but then he couldn’t see well. And every tiny adjustment seemed to loosen Khorg’s handiwork until Hadd was afraid the entire thing would slide right off.

At least he wasn’t cold anymore. He was sweating like crazy, or numb in other spots.

The abrupt stop of the man in front of him recalled him to his senses, and he looked up foggily. Khorg had raised a hand, and everyone had stilled. After a brief exchange, tents began to be unfurled. At the beginning of the day, Hadd had felt cold and was shivering almost to the point his teeth would shatter, but it had faded as he warmed up and the sun warmed his skin. Now, the sun was fast setting behind the mountains, and the sweat that had risen with the sun and effort was rapidly cooling on his skin.

Snow also began to whip around like angry little pins and needles. By now, almost all of the men were climbing into their tents. Hadd sank into a crouch, exhausted and weak. He briefly wondered how he felt emotionally, but he body responded with an overwhelming response of - Who cares. Tired. He raised his eyes, barely able to raise his head, and noticed Khorg beckoning him closer.

On attempting to stand, his legs almost gave out. He tried to catch himself with his hands, but he was almost too slow, half catching himself with a shoulder. After an agonizing moment, he forced himself to his feet. Khorg seemed so far away, and he kept stumbling. When he finally reached the other man, he tried to speak, but his tongue seemed wrapped around a stick. Hadd finally lapsed into silence, drained, as he was bustled into the low slung tent.

“All this comes off,” Khorg informed him, starting to tug off their clothing and draping them on his packs and on the internal supports of the tent. The wind was now whipping so strongly the tent was shaking.

Hadd only found the energy to balk when Khorg tugged at his shirt.

“This comes off,” he repeated distinctly.

“N-n-n-n-n,” poor Hadd chattered. He was half bent over in the low slung tent, unable to fully stand.

Dark brows rose. “If you think I am letting you get my blankets all wet - you are insane. I will turn my back for twenty seconds, but by that time you will be naked and under that cover.” He pointed. “Once you have warm underclothes and your own bed, you can do as you wish.”

The idea of sliding into those sheets, naked, with another man, was far more terrifying than freezing to death. He shook his head fearfully, sinking down and wrapping his arms around himself. I’d rather die, he told himself with the firmness of conviction.

Khorg shrugged with a resigned sigh. “Have it your way.” Was the unruffled response. The other stripped into his underclothes and climbed under the sheets. After a moment of settling, he reached over and snuffed the single light.

Darkness closed around Hadd. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but a cold ache began hurting him intensely. I’d rather die, he told himself again, summoning his pride. His pride responded by showing an astounding lack of solidarity. He barely had the strength to pull off his own wet shirt and pants, kicking his boxers off awkwardly. Crawling towards the blankets, his teeth chattering, he pawed for the edge of the blanket.

Fabric and fur rustled, and suddenly an arm wrapped around him, pulling him under the covers. A low hiss floated out of the dark at the contact of cold skin, but Khorg didn’t flinch. Immediately, heat engulfed Hadd, and he actually moaned from the pleasure of it. “Stubborn little rabbit,” Khorg chuckled darkly by his ear.

Hadd lay in momentary dread that the other man was going to turn on the light. No, no, don’t let him see me, Hadd prayed. With a wild start, he realized the other man would be able to feel how fat he was, now! He stiffened his body, trying to apologize.

Despite the inchorent attempts to speak, Khorg ignored him. His commander only sat up, couched under the blanket, and pulled Hadd’s feet onto his abdomen. The heat was so intense Hadd began whimpering and hissing in pain. He couldn’t stop squirming, but Khorg just shifted his feet to warmer spots from time to time. Firm and rounded muscle met the bottoms of his feet as feeling returned, and Hadd closed his eyes at the mortifying comparison to his own stomach, even as a low keen ripped from between his teeth as his limbs painfully warmed.

The blanket moved, and Hadd felt the man crawl down to lay next to him. A warm hand skimmed down his arms until they found his hands, then inserted them into the warmth of the older man’s underarms with a grunt. More pain followed, but it seemed so surreal Hadd wondered if he had really died, or was dying. By the end Hadd was warmer – but utterly exhausted.

He was even too exhausted to resist when Khorg gently rolled him over. A strong arm pulled him backwards into the shelter of a firm body. Was he being spooned? An inadvertent whimper of protest slipped out when the man flung an arm over his side, his wrist and hand dangling against his belly.

Khorg only sighed and gave the blubbery mound under his hand a gentle pat. “Go to bed, Hadd of NoName.”

Under normal circumstances, Hadd probably wouldn’t have been able to obey that command, but in his current state, he quickly fell into a deep sleep. This feels really nice, he realized as his fear was smothered by exhaustion.


The other man should have been so lucky as to have obtained that instant oblivion. Instead, he lay very still, listening to the howling wind buffeting his tent and the gentle, panting breaths of the young man beside him.

What a strange day. Something wasn’t right, and he was bent on finding out what it was. This sort of thing simply didn’t happen. When he had sent the request in for replacements for the two men he had lost to the avalanche, Khorg didn’t have any notion that they would come within the year. Training someone up to survival level for his portion of the Outliers was intense.

So when they got word a transport was coming a month ago, Khorg was both dumbfounded and suspicious. When the fat little man, almost a boy, had stumbled out, his shock had faded to resignation. Something had gone wrong, and it was suspicious. Even the driver was unusually obstinate, refusing to let the lad back into the truck. Another clue?

Speaking of the boy. He had never seen someone so fat, and pressed a curious hand gently into the swell of lard below his fingertips, revolted and fascinated. The amount of calories – the luxury it indicated, astounded him. He wasn’t just fat in the middle, he was bloated everywhere – even his fingers and feet were pudgy! Hadd’s face was round, a big, heavy double chin meeting up with some fat along the side of his face, like a muff.

The lack of supplies was also intriguing. The little rabbit had arrived even less prepared than some sort of tourist – nothing beyond a pair of boots, jacket, and some underthings. Even those underclothes had make Khorg curious. They were of fine quality, but also not thick. He had obviously not come from somewhere cold.

The young man would die, of course. He didn’t even know why he had bothered to invite the boy into his tent. All he was doing was prolonging the inevitable, and lengthening his suffering. It was just cruel. Their newest member was going to be a liability to the whole team, and endanger all of them each minute he trudged along.

Something had tugged at him though, and Khorg was a firm believer in following instinct.

Those large, dark, doe eyes had looked at him with such calm resignation, such inner strength. Those expressive eyes dominated his face, making him look even younger than Khorg suspected he was. The dark brown curls that covered his head didn’t help that impression, nor did the pouty lips which curved down at the corners.

The boy’s sadness was hardly to be wondered at. He had seemed as shocked as the others when that door opened, but had stepped out without complaint or attitude. The realization of his own death had lit upon his features, his inner light fading from his eyes.

At that moment, Khorg realized that the boy didn’t want to die. Although he couldn’t offer the boy the training he obviously needed at that moment – let alone the equipment – he could offer him just enough to stay alive. Maybe.

The heat that the lad produced was astounding. It was like having his own personal sun. Khorg had been in circuit long enough to become both inured to the cold, and to appreciate warmth when he could get it. Warmth meant a good night’s sleep, and he looked forward to it with as much anticipation as his practical nature would allow.

At that moment, the boy turned over in his sleep, resting his chubby cheek on Khorg’s bicep. His large belly lolled over, spreading into Khorg. The contact made him jerk back a little, the alien feeling overcoming him. After swallowing a few times, he forced himself to stay still.

Hadd sighed and nestled his face closer, all innocent trust in sleep. That sigh caused his belly to ooze even more into Khorg’s own. The boy was all soft curves and firm blubber, and it was both alien and exciting. That was the reason his body was reacting; it was just so new and unusual.


Well-Known Member
Nov 16, 2010
How can I bribe you to get you to write faster? :p I've reread these two parts so many times I'm wearing out my computer screen.

Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
I joked with Undine a while back we writers should do some sort of tit for tat write a chapter, i will write a chapter lol!!! I love your works too, just sayin ;)

Im actually halfway done, but now its at the fussy part where i am pulling everything together...ill post the next chapter as soon as i am sure i wont rip it apart and write it all over again, or i wont leave a plot hole because i missed something!

Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
Chapter 3

Awareness came harshly, bringing pain and exhaustion. When his grainy eyes opened, they met billowing cloth, and his ears picked up the high pitched whistling wind. Khorg was moving around in the tent quietly, and Hadd followed his form as hungrily - as if filling his eyes would fill his stomach.

He was so handsome…

The man’s pert ass flexed under his tight pants, his thighs bulging as he squatted to grab something. He had taken off his shirt at some point, and the flat, corded muscles shifted and danced under taut skin. When he turned, Hadd’s eyed slid down a winding tattoo that started just under his ribs and curled down to disappear under the waistband of his pants. Someone had lovingly inked him. Something flared in him at the thought.

Turning swiftly, Khorg met his gaze. Abruptly realizing he was naked, Hadd felt himself redden. He shrunk back under that scrutiny, desperately wishing he was elsewhere. Or another person. Maybe if he was a better looking guy, someone like Khorg would be interested in him. There was zero chance that this competent, sexy, impassive man would be interested in a useless, fat, emotional wreck. Even if he was into guys. Which he doubted.

That thought was like cold water being dumped on him, and he welcomed it gladly. You are seriously thinking about him in that way? He will beat the shit out of you as soon as look at you. Plus he is your boss, or something. Also, you are going to die soon, too, remember?
“Here, put this on,” Khorg grunted after a moment. He threw a shirt at Hadd.

He tried to snag the fabric, but it half hit his face. The motion caused the blanket to slip, forcing him to grab at it awkwardly to avoid baring his disgusting body. “I don’t…”

“You need to wear dry clothing.” His tone was firm.

“I can’t…”

The older man was tugging his own shirt over his torso. He slid an arm into the sleeve, brows raised. “Unless you want to die?”

How to explain? The shirt in his hands was absurdly small. It might have been long enough, for Khorg was a tall man, but it was about four times too narrow.

“Put. It. On.” Khorg articulated clearly.

Nausea rose as he tried to keep covered as much as possible while inserting a chubby forearm into the sleeve. His fat upper arm fit, barely. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shoved his other arm into the sleeve and wrenched down. The fabric was so tight he felt like he was suffocating, and it couldn’t make it farther than his flabby chest. His claustrophobia set in, and he struggled more and more wildly with the fabric until hands took his. Hadd raised his eyes, panting in distress.

Khorg’s eyes met his and he snorted. “Well, that isn’t going to work, unless I have three extra shirts to sew onto you.” He carefully – and forcefully, because the fabric was wedged tightly - tugged the fabric back over Hadd’s head and gave his hair a ruffle. “You should have told me you were too fat for it,” His voice held something, like a repressed snicker.

Hadd could have melted into the floor in that instant, but Khorg didn’t tease him any further. Instead, he sighed and started to pick up all the clothing. At that moment, a scratch at the door of the tent announced someone. After a moment, the flap peeled back and a face popped in.

It was the same shorter man who seemed so upset yesterday. Hadd buried himself deeper in the blankets, trying to avoid his notice. Something about the man made him leery.

“Any sign of Loras?”

“Yes, they saw him on the next ridge over. He gave the no-go signal. How do you want to proceed? I can go look myself.”

Khorg offered a lazy shrug. “If Loras said it is too dangerous, than we wait. He is the Second. Tell everyone to rest up until he arrives.”

The other man looked sour and withdrew.

The older man still gazed down at the massive shirt in his hands. With another sigh, he set it back to dry. “Well, it looks like you may have a day’s respite.” He stretched out on the covers, digging his elbow into the small pillow and using his hand to prop up his head. “Now. Care to tell me about yourself?”

Hadd drew back a little, shaking his head. He squirmed under the level gaze and close proximity until he had to blink away tears. “Look, it doesn’t matter, I know I am going to die, right?” he got out finally. He felt his belly quiver as he sniffed, and grimaced.

“Mmm.” It was a noncommittal response. “How did you get here?”

“In a boat, then a cart.”

An almost imperceptible smile tugged at his commander’s lips. “Don’t sass me,” he said, but didn’t put much force into the command. “Where did you do basic training?”

“I didn’t do any.”

His nostrils flared. “You didn’t do any,” he repeated faintly. Shaking his head, he tried again. “How did you bypass basic training? Who assigned you?”

“I don’t know,” Hadd answered truthfully, feeling wretchedly vulnerable without his clothing. He had slept naked beside this man, he realized with a fresh jolt, eyes opening wide.

“Hmm.” Khorg rolled off the covers and then scooted under, causing cool air to brush Hadd’s warm skin. “What happens if I send you back?”

The proximity of his body was nerve wracking. Hadd didn’t know how to answer, he was so distracted. He couldn’t go home, that was for sure. He didn’t have one. Tears welled up and he blinked them away furiously. When he glanced over, Khorg was looking at the ceiling of the tent studiously, ignoring his weakness. Hadd gratefully took a moment to get himself under control, also trying to ignore the other man’s physical presence. His cock, however, was having none of that. He could feel it snaking out along his thigh, and in a few moments his bed fellow was going to get a nasty surprise. At that moment, his stomach growled.

Khorg leaned over, snagged his pack, and fished out a small handful of nuts and a piece of what looked like bread…sort of?

His stomach seemed to growl more furiously after the two mouthfuls than before. Shut up, Hadd willed it. I have enough fat that I shouldn’t need to eat for a year. That thought only made him aware of the warm, muscled presence beside him. The one he had slept curled into last night, and who had put his hand right on his gut while they spooned. Oh man…

Khorg watched with apparent captivation as the two meager mouthfuls disappeared into his maw. “Fascinating,” he murmured. “Well, you must have come from somewhere with an abundance of food...”

Uh oh, had he done something wrong? Was it because he was so fat? He dragged his eyes up to meet Khorg’s.

The man merely hitched a shoulder imperturbably. “It’s your decision how to ration your food. No need to look so glum,” he said as Hadd’s face fell. “You have enough fat on you that going low on rations won’t impact you as much as it would the others.”

It was embarrassing to be fat in an area with others who are plump.

It was mortifying to be the only morbidly obese person in a camp full of lean, fit, sexy men.

It was like his parents had put him in his own worst nightmare. It was difficult to drag his attention back, but he tried to listen attentively to Khorg while trying to twist his body to hide both his size and attraction.

Khorg was gazing at him in a way that demanded his attention. “There are a couple of really important things you need to be aware of. Survival is survival is survival, but working in mountains, around snow and melting ice…it brings its own hazards. One of the things you have to remember is that we are a lot higher than sea level. It might be cold, but the sun is still bright. You can actually easily get sunburn.”

The man pulled out Hadd’s hand from under the covers, and the boy noticed for the first time his skin was red. “Not to mention you can get sunburn in your eyes, which can cause vision loss. It is called snow blindness. It is important you keep your skin and eyes covered.”

Khorg raised his gaze from the plump hand. “The second thing to remember is that we are in the cold. Human’s can live here, but we aren’t built for this place. We can’t keep heat in, and we can’t vent heat properly either.”

He turned over the hand in his grasp, examining the palm. “Yesterday, you were cold, then you got hot and sweaty, then you started to get cold very quickly. That’s a classic way to get hypothermia. You start to shiver, then you stop – then you’ll lose your coordination. The rule is ‘fumbles, stumbles, and mumbles’. You find a team member in that situation? You disarm them, get them out of their clothes and into a warm tent. Get naked and share your own body heat – if you heat them too fast they will die, the same as too slow.”

I suppose that is why he stripped me, Hadd mused, flushing again as he realized he was STILL naked. He was almost too weak to care, only inching away minutely. Everything ached like he had been ill for a week.

Khorg shivered as a particularly strong gust slipped into the tent. “Damn. He didn’t close the door properly.” He strode over to the flap and secured it correctly. “Thirdly - respect your equipment and your people. Both have the power to save or kill you. This isn’t some dumbass army camp where you’re going to get barked at and yelled at and desensitized. There isn’t going to be a rigid hierarchy of rank.”

Padding back to the blankets, the tall man slipped in, appearing unaffected by the naked man beside him. Why would he, if he wasn’t gay? Hadd bit back a sigh. No, that wasn’t even true. There were plenty of reasons beyond not being gay that would stop Khorg from being attracted.

“This isn’t a mission. This isn’t a jaunt. This is a way of life. There isn’t any way for help to get to us. There isn’t any running out to the local store to buy something, and there isn’t any convenient way to carry excess supplies.”

He met the eyes of the frightened young man, trying to impress this importance on him – and succeeding. “Every day is a struggle. Every day you have to fight to put one foot in front of the other. To eat. To drink. To stay warm and get enough air in your lungs. The day you wake up and put your dukes down, you are done. I’m not going to lie. People have died out here, and will continue to die out here. Your goal is to postpone the inevitable as long as possible.” His speech done, he rolled over and faced away from Hadd, apparently to take a nap.

“How…” Hadd cleared his throat. “How many people have died in your group?”

There was a pause, and the other man mumbled. “Enough.”


Khorg looked down at his new recruit reflectively. He had been pleasantly surprised at the young man’s durability. It was doubtful that many of his men would have been up to being thrown into this situation with zero training and no equipment.
After the stop, the poor lad had barely been able to stand. The pale skin of his face had been scorched a brilliant red, and his brown doe eyes gazed around mournfully from above his round cheeks. His pouty lips were turned down at the corners in what seemed to be a habitually doleful expression, and he kept tugging at his pants as if to pull them away from his skin. Occasionally those dark eyes would flit up to his face, then fall to the floor quickly, his cheeks reddening.

How to handle this? Every time he spoke or scrutinized to the boy, he jumped, flinching as if expecting a blow. That fear made Khorg a little crazy. He had never considered himself an aggressive person, but for some reason he wanted to shake the boy until his teeth rattled. Anything would be better than that timidity.

When he had helped him into the tent last night, he had had no further thought than not letting the boy freeze overnight. Now he was faced with longer term decisions. The foreign feeling of fat against his grip when he had half carried him into the tent almost made him let go. His fingers actually dug into the fat on the young man’s arms, the frightening lack of muscle tone painfully obvious. The feeling of complete softness was alien – it was like he had grabbed a pillow, but with resistance.

Even now, Hadd was alternating between looking at him with interest and flushing with obvious humiliation. The constant flinching and jerking and not making eye contact was making him want to simultaneously yell at him to stop and pat him on the head.

The lad had surprised him, keeping pace for several hours until all his strength flagged. Even then, he had struggled on with determination. The boy was biddable and tractable – which was far better than a self-important know it all…but how would he survive? He wasn’t physically fit enough.

When Khorg had lifted the edge of the blanket and snuck a gaze at him in the early morning hours, the pale expanse of jiggling flesh that had met his gaze stunned him almost as much as his reaction to it. Carefully, he had pressed a hand into the bulging mound of flab, his stomach and balls tightening. Even presently, the young man’s naked, warm body was causing him to twitch and shift. What the hell was going on?

His reflections were halted as he heard several men greet their Second. Boots stamped outside of his tent entrance, and fabric snapped as Loras tried fling as much snow off as possible before entering. Carefully backing in, he closed the flaps, put his boots to the side, stripped off his jacket, and turned around.

He grunted in surprise, which was his equivalent to another men yelping and falling back.

A round face peered over the edge of the blanket. Large, doe eyes gazed back at the newcomer, eyes wide. The young man appeared flustered, his ruddy cheeks reddening further.

Loras pulled off his outer shirt, brows climbing. “Khorg?”

Meeting Hadd’s limpid eyes, Khorg waved a hand between them. “Hadd, Loras. Loras, Hadd. Come on in, the bed is nice and warm.”

Loras’ expression showed surprise and interest. Sliding out of his pants, he carefully arrayed his clothing to dry. He moved to set up his own blankets, but Khorg waved a hand at him.

The two men exchanged a significant glance once Loras had stifled his shock at the sheer heat coming off the young man, and also at the sheer size of him. A man of few words and iron nerves, Khorg thought as he smiled. Instead of making a fuss, the man simply put it aside for later as the unaccustomed heat made him drowsy.

Hadd looked like he didn’t dare to breathe, but after a few minutes both men drifted off from exhaustion. Khorg allowed his second some rest before rousing him with a soft word. The other man woke instantly and regarded him.

“How bad is it?”

“Seen worse.” The weary man closed his eyes again with a shrug. “Seen better too.” he said after a long moment.

“How long do we have before it hits?” Khorg queried.

“A week, give or take.” Loras opened his eyes and jerked his thumb at Hadd’s slumbering form with a look of curiosity that was ill satisfied by the other man’s answering shrug.

“Still not sure. But I do know that he is like heat incarnate. Get some rest. We can talk later. He didn’t come prepared in any way, and his clothes are still drying. He probably wont live anyway, but...” He left it at that.

When Loras awoke, Khorg was still staring thoughtfully at the wall of the tent as he massaged his aching thigh. He hadn’t made any significant progress in analyzing his reaction to the boy – if anything, he had set that aside as unfathomably, irrelevant, and a fluke. Instead, he had spent the time pondering what was going to be done – and how.

Noticing the Loras’s gaze, he jerked his head towards the tent entrance. They geared up quietly and headed out, grimly bearing the onslaught of the gusting winds. Khorg led him about a fifty feet away. Loras waited imperturbably for the conversation to begin.

Khorg briefly sketched his impressions thus far, and what conclusions he had drawn so far about their newest member. “What are your thoughts?”

Loras met his gaze levelly. “You know what has to be done.” His deep voice said calmly.

“It’s a two man job.”

The other man squeezed his shoulder briefly. “Yep. You up to it?”

Returning the squeeze, Khorg allowed himself to smile grimly, casting a glance back towards his tent. “And after? Once they realize?”

“We deal with the fallout.”


Well-Known Member
Nov 16, 2010
yay thank you! Hadd is just too adorable. This story has everything I love in it :p

Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
Chapter 4

Haddwin knew something was up when the rest of the men started glancing at him and murmuring. The camp broke up as quickly, efficiently, and quietly as it had been set up. The short man he had met with Khorg on his arrival, named Gus, led the men one direction. Khorg, Loras, and himself headed another direction.

He had cracked his eyes open to the two men leaving the tent, and had peeped out the tent flap to see them off a ways from the others, conversing. The only thing he could hear from snatches that the wind brought, was “problem…two man job…deal with the fallout.” The fact that he was now being lead off to the side made his heart thump against his chest. It wasn’t difficult to infer what they were planning.

His clothes were still damp, and his boots were soaked. Putting his feet back into them had made him grimace, but he took the discomfort as stoically as he could. Even if he was going to die, he didn’t have to be a baby about it. They walked for about two hours; enough that his feet had moved past the cold stage and into blissful numbness. He kept looking at the two men wistfully, wondering what it would have been like to belong to their group. They seemed like two sides of a page, and the whole group seemed to function like a well-oiled machine. What would it have been like to belong?

When they found the spot to dispose of him, he decided he wouldn’t fight it. He had been ready for this a long time. And who was he to endanger other people’s lives? He wouldn’t fit in here anymore than he had fit in at school or with his family.

When they finally reached the edge of what could only be described as the bottom of a small cliff, Hadd leaned against it with a sigh. “Is this the spot?” he asked quietly, dread stealing through him.

Khorg nodded, his face obscured by his gear. He pointed up, then faced his palm towards Hadd. Stay.

Hadd nodded, a lump in his throat. “I’m ready.” Hadd replied, composing himself.

The other man, Loras, gave him a thumbs up sign, jerked his thumb up, then gave him a goodbye salute.

It was obvious enough. They were to go up, and leave him here. He had heard about dying in the cold… was it true he would fall asleep and just never wake up?

Both men carefully inserted their hands and feet into the rock surfaces, scaling the wall. It was a beautiful sight to see, and Hadd watched longingly as they rose up over thirty feet over the near verticle surface, disappearing as they crested the top. Several minutes elapsed, and he stamped his feet, shivering.

He tried to compose himself, but a dull drive was kicking in, warming him and forcing him to pace. It should be the easiest thing in the world, to just sit down and wait. He wouldn’t even have to take a single step. Something in him was rising, choking, searing, lashing. Hadd loathed himself in that instant. Even given this easy way out, he seemed incapable of just taking it like a man. He had always flinched away from pain and the unknown, and death was no exception.

The distance was gauged with a critical eye and no little dismay. It was steeper and taller than the rock he was used to climbing. It was also a hell of a lot colder. He puffed a few breaths, beginning to hoist himself up with a grunt as his arms started shaking in protest. Don’t leave me, he thought, straining every fibre of his being, trying to tamp down on his panic.

A lot of people thought climbing was about brute strength – but the harder you clung the faster you tired out. Especially your hands – even someone as lithe as Khorg couldn’t hope to haul themselves up by the fragile bones and muscles of their hands. Although working with these gloves added a whole new level of complexity. Slowly, his breath steadied, and he moved more calmly.

His family would have been astounded to see how coolly he was working. Ironically, the amount of concentration required took soothed, rather than scared him. Insert foot, stabilize, find next handhold on the preplanned path. Never rush, never be still.

He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he hadn’t been climbing up something. One of his first memories was having climbed up a tree to hide from his father. The thrilling joy that had filled his being at being so high, so hidden, had imprinted even his adult memories. When he was younger and thinner he would always walk on top of the fence, rather than beside it. Usually a harsh hand had ripped him off, but it was never enough to deter him. Even recently, he still used to clamber up under his favourite bridge to meditate and escape.

With all that experience, one would have thought it would have been easy. The main problem was that the last time he had done this, he had been rested, well fed, and comfortable. Now, he was tired, hungry, cold, and nervous. About halfway up his muscles started to tremble, and he had to breathe deeply and force himself to relax. Only once did he reach a spot that required him to go down again a few feet – that was always far more frightening than going up. He froze, unable to find purchase to move down.

“Stop,” He heard Loras say, then several curses.

Khorg clambered down easily, almost casually positioning himself behind and below Hadd. “Come, little rabbit,” he said breathlessly in his ear. “Up you go. There you are. Grab here. Just so. Well done.”

The murmurs distracted and soothed. Hadd took one ledge up at a time, his fingers cramping with the effort. Almost to the top, he felt his numb foot slip. For one perilous moment, he felt himself falling. The next second, he found purchase with both his feet and steadied himself, tears welling up in his eyes as his belly ripped against the rock harshly. Stupid thing. Fat, stupid dumbass.

“Excellent,” Khorg’s steady voice murmured in his ear, his breath almost tickling his lobe. “Just get to the top. There’s a lad. There’s a good lad.”

When he popped his head over the top, he found Loras waiting. His arms were grasped and he was hauled up roughly. Loras laughed – a guttural, harsh sound, like he was unaccustomed to the gesture.

Khorg half knocked Hadd over, gripping his shoulders as he straddled him. He had ripped off his face gear and was staring wildly down at the newest member of his group.

Hadd stared back, frightened. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. I didn’t want to be alone…

Khorg transferred his gaze to Loras, who barked that odd laugh again, before returning it to the man below him. “You are a crazy son of a bitch! You fat fuck!” he said to his newest member at last, sounding out of breath. His hands were trembling as they hauled him to his feet. “We will talk about this later, you understand? On we go.” He clouted him on the back him so hard that Hadd coughed.

“I’m sorry….” He mumbled breathlessly, then looked up fearfully. “You aren’t going to kill me?” Hadd blurted.

“Kill you? You damn well almost killed yourself and gave me a heart attack! If you are going to off yourself please have the courtesy not to do it under my watch – literally and figuratively!”

Hadd stared at both men. “If….you aren’t going to kill me, then why are we going this way, off by ourselves? I heard you mention that it was a two man job, and that you’d deal with the consequences later…”

Loras shook his head with a snort, shoving Khorg roughly. “Don’t put yourself in danger again,” he told the other warningly.

Khorg ignored him, readjusting Hadd’s headscarf ensemble before putting his own mask back on. “There is a storm brewing. You wouldn’t have made it going the longer and safer route. The plan was to go up Dead Man’s Drop and get you to the caves by the end of today. We were going to tie a rope and haul you up – it’s a two man job because you are a big boy, and there is nothing to fasten the rope to. It’s brute force and rope tricks. The other men are going to grumble at having to walk another week when they could have climbed up in a few hours. It’s too dangerous – too many people have died on that wall.” Khorg frowned a little. “Why the hell would we kill you?”

“Oh.” Foolish was a generous word for the emotion he was feeling. He followed along behind them mildly, blushing furiously behind his face covering. Well, now they know you are a huge dumbass to boot, he thought bitterly.

Loras occasionally glanced back, crinkles radiating from the corners of his eyes, but otherwise both men focused on walking. Occasionally, they would stop and test the snow before they walked across a given area.

Having no perception of time under good circumstances, let alone out here, Hadd had no idea how long it took them before they stood in front of a deep pit of blackness. He almost fell as he crossed the threshold and his feet met stone instead of snow.

A hand cupped his elbow firmly while another wrapped around him. “Easy,” Loras’ level voice said. “Surprised you made it. In you go.”

He seemed to be a man of few words, Hadd noted dimly.

The exhausted boy didn’t even have the strength to raise his head, let alone ask where they were. Lovely heat was sinking into his cold bones, and he closed his eyes blissfully. It was hot in the cave. Hadd licked his cracked lips, heavily sitting – or rather half collapsing. His pudgy legs visibly trembled, even with his considerable weight off them.

The inside of his thighs had been chafing, and his own sweat had become a stinging source of agony as he had waddled after them. His crotch felt so damp he might as well have pissed himself, he thought miserably, trying to arrange himself in a way that made every muscle scream less. It seemed so crazy that he had been simultaneously sweating and shivering for hours.

Loras and Khorg moved about effortlessly, lighting a lamp here, unpacking things neatly there. Hadd watched, trying to make himself as small as possible until told what to do. Although he didn’t think he could do anything even if asked. At least neither of them seemed inclined to bark at him at present, he noted will dull resignation. Finally, both men stretched and exchanged a look. Whatever was exchanged, Loras trotted out, scooping something from his pack as he went.

The remaining member of the Outliers stretched, letting out a groan of satisfaction. He carefully stripped and arrayed his outerwear before pulling off his shirt.

Hadd sucked in a breath, devouring the sight before him. When those long fingers toyed with the laces at his pants, Hadd was forced to swallow a groan. Slung low, those pants only teased the imagination, letting a tantalizing hint of pubes peep out over the waistband.

Khorg stepped out of the cloth with another sigh of satisfaction, placing them with his shirt. When he raised his eyes to meet Hadd’s, he cocked a brow. “Like what you see?” he rasped, placing his hands on his hips.

Under his gaze, the man’s cock pulsed, his balls tightening as the shaft lengthened. Hadd could have cried at the perfection. The length, thickness, the straightness… He tore his gaze away, staring at the floor. He kept expecting to be struck, or receive a reproof at the very least. Nothing came, however. After a few long moments of silence, he chanced a glance upwards, wondering if Khorg was too angry to speak.

Khorg had his arms crossed, still saluting him. “Coming?” he rapped out at last. He didn’t seem angry at Hadd’s interest, but he didn’t seem to share the admiring sentiment either.

“W..where?” Hadd asked, too drained to even try to stand.

Covering the distance between them, Khorg hefted the portly young man to his feet. “To get you washed up and ready for bed.” He pivoted him around and marched him down a lit side passage, despite the attempts to stand on his own. The flickering light lit the walls of the cave lit their way until they stopped at a pool – at least that was what it looked like, in this light.

The surface glimmered in the dim light, steam rising off the surface in gentle, occasional wisps. Hadd was so distracted and tired he only noticed that he was being stripped when Khorg began tugging his pants down.

Squealing in protest, he tried to keep them on. “No, please no,” he cried, shame flaring. It didn’t matter that he had already felt him naked – seeing him would be even worse.

“Oh, shut up,” was the snapped response as his pants were effortlessly manhandled off him. “Shirt off.” When Hadd made no effort to obey, Khorg smacked his ass sharply. “Take. The shirt. Off.”

Freed from restraint, his own cock began distending at that stinging and erotic touch. Nonononono….

Khorg stared down at him. “Problem, little Rabbit?”

“N-n-no…” Hadd stuttered, turning his lower body away as subtly as he could.

Apparently growing impatient, Khorg snatched his shirt and ripped it off, sending poor Hadd’s body jiggling. “Trundle along into to that stone beside the pool.”

Hadd stared in mute shock, his chubby hands and arms trying to cover more surface area than was mathematically possible, arranging his arms to cover his stomach as much as possible. He couldn’t walk away – he would be bouncing and jiggling everywhere. Disgusting.

Khorg placed one broad, long fingered hand on one of Hadd’s massive love handles. “Are you shy, Hadd?” His fingers gave a spasmodic squeeze. “I can wash you just as well if you stand.” The silken voice had a snarl of menance.

That touch was like a brand, scooting Hadd backward faster than the threatening tone. “You don’t have to wash me, I can wash myself,” he gasped desperately, edging back.

For his part, Khorg ignored the additional space, moving towards the other man until they were almost touching. “Turn your back to me.” It wasn’t a question, and once the task has been completed, the older man began running a rag with brisk efficiency over his body.

“I can wash myself,” Hadd protested again weakly, eyes half closing at the touch. How long had it been since his last washing? A month? It felt marvelous, the warm water cascading down his skin.

Without a word, Khorg handed the cloth over, but soon took it back when it became apparent Hadd couldn’t make his numb fingers obey.

The boy was in a misery of shame. Even with his back turned, he could feel his repulsive body shaking and jiggling. What did Khorg think? He must be so irritated that he had to take care of him, like he was a big fat baby. And repulsed – no wonder he was washing as quickly as possible. Who wouldn’t want to get the task over with as soon as possible? Hell, Hadd didn’t like doing it himself.

Despite the humiliation, being touched was arousing him, and he desperately tried to think of other things than a handsome guy sudsing up his body. The touch was efficient and didn’t seem particularly sexual, but Hadd couldn’t recall anything more erotic happening to him in his entire life.

Dreading and anticipating each swipe, he stared down at his saggy man breasts and bulging belly. How could it bulge out so far when it was so, so empty? He had been hungry for so long he barely noticed anymore. That itself was a first. Maybe he didn’t look as fat as he had before? It looked smaller. The shirt he had was fitting better, that’s for sure. When a tanned hand actually slid along the fold his gut created, hefting that huge mound up with one hand to clean under it, Hadd couldn’t repress it. His hips rocked, a hiss escaping from between his clenched teeth.

A pause, then a chuckle. “Relax, little Rabbit. This is just a wash.” Khorg resumed his labours, sliding the cloth between the fold where his back fat molded into his man breasts.

The other man was close enough that his warm breaths were tickling the back of his neck. Hadd closed his eyes, big tears welling behind the lids. He wasn’t even sure why he was crying, but once the first tear escaped, he inhaled a ragged breath, repressing the noise.

The ministrations paused again, and Khorg turned the fat face towards him. “And what is this, now?” He asked crossly. “Have I hurt you?”

Shaking his head violently, Hadd bit down on a fresh sob.


Surprised, Hadd hesitated, shaking his head. “No.” He actually wasn’t. Truly, he hadn’t even thought about home since that he arrived, really. What was the point in it? He didn’t have one anymore.

Obviously doubting, the older man dropped the cloth and turned him to face him. “You probably have a bit of sunstroke, and are tired and hungry. The altitude changes are probably impacting you too. We have a few days to ourselves to remedy that.” Taking a bucket, he carefully dumped the contents over Hadd’s head, then pushed him towards the pool.

Hadd moaned a little at the warmth, sinking into the water. He knelt, the water coming up to his collar bone, closing his eyes in bliss. Feeling a hand snake around the nape of his neck, he opened his eyes. “What…?”

“You are going to fall asleep in a minute. I’d prefer to not let you drown, after going to all the trouble of getting you here.”

It didn’t seem likely that Hadd was going to fall asleep as he half floated, naked, beside the naked body of this man – but the unlikely did happen. He only roused when Khorg shook him a little, urging him out of the pool. The air was chill compared to the water, but cloth was quickly procured from a nook to dry off.

It suddenly occurred to Hadd to ask, “Where are we?” as he yawned, trying to hide his massive body behind the little towel. Though – why was he even bothering? Khorg has slept next to him, seen him naked, and even washed him off. Any chance of him being attracted was certainly gone. You never had a chance, idiot.

“A rest stop. Now, off to bed with you – rest is what you need most. We can talk more when you wake up and have something to eat.”


Khorg slid a palm down the soft skin of his own shaft, reflecting. The pleasurable feeling that accompanied his erection was just becoming discomfort, without the ability to release it.

He generally tried to avoid arousal entirely because of it. Why get all hot and bothered when no matter what you did you only ended up chafed and sore? Or just softened when you tried to do something about it. Why he had reacted like that today was beyond him. He didn’t even like men.

The boy had looked totally tuckered out when they arrived at the temporary homestead, legs splayed out in front of him. That enormous belly had drooped out from of the bottom of his shirt right up to the navel, jiggling with each breath as he leaned back on his hands. The boy had locked his gaze on his body with such intensity he had felt himself reacting in spite of his best efforts.

Unbidden, the image flashed in his mind again of those hungry little lips as Hadd had licked them, his doe eyes alight and lusty. The boy had looked like he would have licked his shaft from base to tip, suckling like he was candy. Another pulse. Stop thinking about that, he admonished himself, glancing at the form across from him. What is wrong with you? You’ve had plenty of handsome men make passes at you over the years. Granted, it’s been a while, but are you so hard done by that even HE is starting to look attractive?

Loras walked in. He gave a wince of sympathy at Khorg’s predicament, tilting his head back towards the exit in mute inquiry.

“Don’t bother,” Khorg groaned quietly, releasing his grip. “Isn’t going to happen.” At least Loras hadn’t witnessed earlier, or else he might think that he was attracted to the boy. Which he wasn’t. At least now his Second would only think he was trying to get a quickie in.

The way that the fat seal pup had climbed that wall…he shook his head in amazement. “Can you believe it?” He asked Loras. “I thought he was going to fall for sure. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The other man unwound his scarf, grinning. “Boy’s got pluck. I like him.”

That was something he enjoyed about Loras. The man didn’t talk your ear off, and didn’t need you to talk his off either. “He says he didn’t do any training, but he scaled that wall like he was born here.”

The other man checked to make sure Hadd was sleeping before responding. He settled his bed roll, sitting on it cross legged. “Maybe he just likes climbing?” He asked impishly.

Snorting, Khorg refrained from responding. Hadd didn’t look like the type to like any physical exertion. He should know. He had known that the boy’s middle was large and flabby, but he hadn’t fully appreciated how god damn fat he was. He had actually waddled to the pool, fat thighs brushing and struggling against each other. Those deep fat rolls on his back had half swallowed his palm during the washing, and his gut was so heavy that it didn’t just fold at the front – that fold started way behind his hip bone!

Growling a little, Khorg flicked his erection spitefully, grimacing at the resulting sting. All these thoughts should be helping, but they didn’t seem to have any effect. “Do we still have the spare cloth and furs here?” He inquired, readjusting himself as he stood. Maybe if he gave himself a task he would be able to calm down.

A nod, and a gesture towards a bundle off to the side was his answer. “So we are keeping him?” Loras inquired, meeting his leader’s gaze. “The others may not be too pleased. Gus is already in a fair way to having his britches in a bunch.”

He frowned. “I’ll have to deal with Gus eventually, but not today.” He deliberated for a moment. “I haven’t asked them to give up any equipment or trouble themselves with him. Until that changes, they can hold their tongues. And the choice is ours. Gus isn’t eligible by seniority alone – I am getting tired of his attitude.”

Taking out his spare equipment, Khorg winced. The sheer amount of fabric and fur it would take to simply clothe the boy hurt. He would probably eat up most of his spare supplies over the next two to three stops. Heaving another sigh, he took out his knife and settled in for a few hours of close, irritating work. God, he hated sewing.
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