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More from goatgoatgoat7778
I love the characters from my last pic/story so I made a sequel. Tried a slightly different coloring style with the pic. Maybe it looks good?
This story contains: m\m, hunger/stomach growling kink, fluff, possibly typos lol
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“What do you mean the head chef is sick?!” the great powerful warlock king Vruxeor, who felt less great and powerful than ever, exclaimed. “Renard is coming today, and he deserves only the best we can offer!”
“Actually, milord, Renard is already here,” the nervous apprentice chef replied. “We did the best we could. You’ll barely notice and I’m sure he’ll like it!”
Vruxeor sighed in frustration, “You better hope this is good or you’ll lose more than your job.” The chef nodded, gulped, and scampered away to prepare the table. Rumors had begun to spread around the castle about Sir Renard and Vruxeor. After all, it’s highly unusual that a high-profile hero like Renard can just sneak out of the dungeon the day he got captured, especially considering he was last seen in the dungeon with Vruxeor. Not to mention Vruxeor had been exchanging letters with Renard, and now he was inviting him over for dinner. Most assumed Vruxeor was becoming smitten with the knight and were willing to accept that they might one day be ruled by two kings. Other more pessimistic people were worried about how Vruxeor would deal with the inevitable heartbreak as they thought Renard could never possibly reciprocate his feelings. Regardless, everyone wanted to make sure things went as smoothly as possible for as long as possible, starting with this apparent dinner date.
Vruxeor saw Renard, clad in all his usual shining armor, standing at the front entrance making small talk with some guards. Renard noticed him, waved, and hurried towards him. “Hi, Vruxeor! Hope you don’t mind that I’m a little late.”
“Sorry Renard, you might have to come back some other time. Our head chef is sick and I’m afraid the food won’t be up to standard.”
“Nonsense!” Renard replied. “I’m sure the other chefs did fine! The only way we’ll know is to try it ourselves.”
Vruxeor was tentative but caved in immediately to Renard’s wishes. “I suppose you’re right, but don’t get your hopes up. This way.” He led him down the main hallway into a grand dining room. A table expanded the entire length of the room and a feast was laid across it with turkeys, hams, corn, bread, ten different soups, every fruit known to man, and more. The table could easily seat over twenty people, but only had two chairs set across from each other at the center: one, a large massive throne and the other a humble wood armchair. Renard looked eager; Vruxeor frowned.
“What’s the matter?” Renard asked. “This all looks fine!”
“No, no, no, everything is wrong! Just look at it!” Vruxeor didn’t want to admit it, but he was worried Renard might be offended that he was given such a small chair compared to Vruxeor’s throne. He wanted to make sure Renard knew how important he thought he was. Renard, apparently not understanding what the big deal was, shrugged and walked over to the wooden chair he knew was for him. He picked it up and took it to the opposite side of the table, placed it by the throne, and sat down.
“Is this better?”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” Vruxeor said sitting down on his throne next to him.
“Well, us knights always eat together. It doesn’t feel right not eating right next to someone, especially at such a big table.”
“I only eat alone. I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh,” Renard replied, awkwardly rapping his fingers against the table. He changed the subject. “Let’s try this food then, shall we?” He filled his plate with samples from every dish and pulled the faceplate of his helmet up so he could eat. After taking a few bites he began wolfing it down. “Vruxeor, this is amazing!” he said between bites, “You have to try it!”
Vruxeor hesitantly put lifted a piece of turkey to his mouth and licked it. “This is repulsive!” he snarled, throwing it across the room. “It’s dry and bland and I will not eat such garbage.”
*GrOOOOooOooOOOOOOwWWwlLLLL* his stomach roared in protest. He scoffed and pressed a hand to it to silence it.
“It sounds like your stomach disagrees,” Renard chuckled. “Why not just eat the veggies if the meat is so bad?”
“No way. They’re unseasoned and undercooked, I can tell just by looking.” His stomach gurgled longingly.
“Okay, then what about the fruit? It’s impossible they would have messed that up.”
“They probably washed it wrong.”
“Now you’re just being stubborn!”
“Well I’m a king and so I eat like a king or I don’t eat at all!” Vruxeor crossed his arms defiantly. His stomach gave another loud growl. “And I won’t give into bodily peer-pressure either!”
“Suit yourself. I’m glad I’m here so that this delicious food doesn’t go to waste,” Renard said returning to his meal. Vruxeor relaxed into his chair and stared at the wall, trying to ignore the food on the table, the delicious smells that wafted from each plate, and Renard’s obvious enjoyment of it. Still, he found his eyes wandering along the table before settling on Renard eating. Every time Renard took a bite, his stomach would growl and roar and roll as though it were jealous. Renard noticed (how could he not?) and would occasionally offer him a taste. Vruxeor declined every time, overcome by pride and stubbornness.
Renard eventually began to slow down, and he gave a big stretch before settling back in his chair along with Vruxeor. “I’m stuffed. If your head chef gets sick again, you know who to hail.”
“You might as well stay,” Vruxeor grumbled, “She’ll probably be sick for the next few days or so.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
“Huh? Wait, it was only a joke! I don’t have a room prepared or anything-”
“Don’t you have your own room? Your throne looks pretty big, I’d imagine your bed would at least have room for two.”
Vruxeor felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he thought of the implications. This was an opportunity he would NOT waste. “Of course it is! Come see for yourself!” He led Renard to his bedroom, lit by candles courtesy of his servants. His bed was, in fact, massive. It was adorned with a large golden bedpost with intricate carvings weaving along the sides. At the top was a gold rod over which draped a navy blue canopy. The headboard was aligned with the fluffiest pillows and the blankets were thick and warm. Renard felt sleepy just looking at it.
“Impressive, isn’t it,” remarked Vruxeor with a bit of pride. “Do you need something to change into?” Renard shook his head.
“My undershirt should be fine if it’s fine with you.”
Vruxeor shrugged, “Whatever you want. I should probably change, though.” He motioned towards all the jewelry that donned his outfit and Renard nodded in understanding. “I’ll be back,” he said going into his walk-in closet. He changed into another robe, not so different from the one he originally wore except it was softer and solid black in color. As he was changing his bare stomach rumbled and he realized how hollow he felt on the inside. He steeled his resolve, refusing to let the chance to get closer to Renard slip by. When he returned, Renard was only wearing a shirt and shorts. He looked even cuter than Vruxeor thought he would. He crawled into bed and Renard followed.
“Tired already?” Renard asked.
“Yeah,” Vruxeor sighed, making himself comfortable. His stomach began to growl, scolding him for trying to go to bed without eating. “Won’t be able to sleep at this rate.”
Renard curled up next to Vruxeor and placed his head on his stomach, listening to the groans. “I think I will, though,” he purred. “I have to admit, I’m starting to see the appeal of this.”
“I didn’t expect you to be so forward,” Vruxeor admitted, face flushed. He could feel his stomach vibrating against the side of Renard’s cheek.
“Me? Forward? Don’t give me all the credit. You were the one who gave me the idea in the first place.”
“You’re welcome.”
Renard hummed happily and blew out the candles that lit the room. He spent the rest of the night happily with his face buried in Vruxeor’s noisy stomach.
This story contains: m\m, hunger/stomach growling kink, fluff, possibly typos lol
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“What do you mean the head chef is sick?!” the great powerful warlock king Vruxeor, who felt less great and powerful than ever, exclaimed. “Renard is coming today, and he deserves only the best we can offer!”
“Actually, milord, Renard is already here,” the nervous apprentice chef replied. “We did the best we could. You’ll barely notice and I’m sure he’ll like it!”
Vruxeor sighed in frustration, “You better hope this is good or you’ll lose more than your job.” The chef nodded, gulped, and scampered away to prepare the table. Rumors had begun to spread around the castle about Sir Renard and Vruxeor. After all, it’s highly unusual that a high-profile hero like Renard can just sneak out of the dungeon the day he got captured, especially considering he was last seen in the dungeon with Vruxeor. Not to mention Vruxeor had been exchanging letters with Renard, and now he was inviting him over for dinner. Most assumed Vruxeor was becoming smitten with the knight and were willing to accept that they might one day be ruled by two kings. Other more pessimistic people were worried about how Vruxeor would deal with the inevitable heartbreak as they thought Renard could never possibly reciprocate his feelings. Regardless, everyone wanted to make sure things went as smoothly as possible for as long as possible, starting with this apparent dinner date.
Vruxeor saw Renard, clad in all his usual shining armor, standing at the front entrance making small talk with some guards. Renard noticed him, waved, and hurried towards him. “Hi, Vruxeor! Hope you don’t mind that I’m a little late.”
“Sorry Renard, you might have to come back some other time. Our head chef is sick and I’m afraid the food won’t be up to standard.”
“Nonsense!” Renard replied. “I’m sure the other chefs did fine! The only way we’ll know is to try it ourselves.”
Vruxeor was tentative but caved in immediately to Renard’s wishes. “I suppose you’re right, but don’t get your hopes up. This way.” He led him down the main hallway into a grand dining room. A table expanded the entire length of the room and a feast was laid across it with turkeys, hams, corn, bread, ten different soups, every fruit known to man, and more. The table could easily seat over twenty people, but only had two chairs set across from each other at the center: one, a large massive throne and the other a humble wood armchair. Renard looked eager; Vruxeor frowned.
“What’s the matter?” Renard asked. “This all looks fine!”
“No, no, no, everything is wrong! Just look at it!” Vruxeor didn’t want to admit it, but he was worried Renard might be offended that he was given such a small chair compared to Vruxeor’s throne. He wanted to make sure Renard knew how important he thought he was. Renard, apparently not understanding what the big deal was, shrugged and walked over to the wooden chair he knew was for him. He picked it up and took it to the opposite side of the table, placed it by the throne, and sat down.
“Is this better?”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” Vruxeor said sitting down on his throne next to him.
“Well, us knights always eat together. It doesn’t feel right not eating right next to someone, especially at such a big table.”
“I only eat alone. I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh,” Renard replied, awkwardly rapping his fingers against the table. He changed the subject. “Let’s try this food then, shall we?” He filled his plate with samples from every dish and pulled the faceplate of his helmet up so he could eat. After taking a few bites he began wolfing it down. “Vruxeor, this is amazing!” he said between bites, “You have to try it!”
Vruxeor hesitantly put lifted a piece of turkey to his mouth and licked it. “This is repulsive!” he snarled, throwing it across the room. “It’s dry and bland and I will not eat such garbage.”
*GrOOOOooOooOOOOOOwWWwlLLLL* his stomach roared in protest. He scoffed and pressed a hand to it to silence it.
“It sounds like your stomach disagrees,” Renard chuckled. “Why not just eat the veggies if the meat is so bad?”
“No way. They’re unseasoned and undercooked, I can tell just by looking.” His stomach gurgled longingly.
“Okay, then what about the fruit? It’s impossible they would have messed that up.”
“They probably washed it wrong.”
“Now you’re just being stubborn!”
“Well I’m a king and so I eat like a king or I don’t eat at all!” Vruxeor crossed his arms defiantly. His stomach gave another loud growl. “And I won’t give into bodily peer-pressure either!”
“Suit yourself. I’m glad I’m here so that this delicious food doesn’t go to waste,” Renard said returning to his meal. Vruxeor relaxed into his chair and stared at the wall, trying to ignore the food on the table, the delicious smells that wafted from each plate, and Renard’s obvious enjoyment of it. Still, he found his eyes wandering along the table before settling on Renard eating. Every time Renard took a bite, his stomach would growl and roar and roll as though it were jealous. Renard noticed (how could he not?) and would occasionally offer him a taste. Vruxeor declined every time, overcome by pride and stubbornness.
Renard eventually began to slow down, and he gave a big stretch before settling back in his chair along with Vruxeor. “I’m stuffed. If your head chef gets sick again, you know who to hail.”
“You might as well stay,” Vruxeor grumbled, “She’ll probably be sick for the next few days or so.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
“Huh? Wait, it was only a joke! I don’t have a room prepared or anything-”
“Don’t you have your own room? Your throne looks pretty big, I’d imagine your bed would at least have room for two.”
Vruxeor felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he thought of the implications. This was an opportunity he would NOT waste. “Of course it is! Come see for yourself!” He led Renard to his bedroom, lit by candles courtesy of his servants. His bed was, in fact, massive. It was adorned with a large golden bedpost with intricate carvings weaving along the sides. At the top was a gold rod over which draped a navy blue canopy. The headboard was aligned with the fluffiest pillows and the blankets were thick and warm. Renard felt sleepy just looking at it.
“Impressive, isn’t it,” remarked Vruxeor with a bit of pride. “Do you need something to change into?” Renard shook his head.
“My undershirt should be fine if it’s fine with you.”
Vruxeor shrugged, “Whatever you want. I should probably change, though.” He motioned towards all the jewelry that donned his outfit and Renard nodded in understanding. “I’ll be back,” he said going into his walk-in closet. He changed into another robe, not so different from the one he originally wore except it was softer and solid black in color. As he was changing his bare stomach rumbled and he realized how hollow he felt on the inside. He steeled his resolve, refusing to let the chance to get closer to Renard slip by. When he returned, Renard was only wearing a shirt and shorts. He looked even cuter than Vruxeor thought he would. He crawled into bed and Renard followed.
“Tired already?” Renard asked.
“Yeah,” Vruxeor sighed, making himself comfortable. His stomach began to growl, scolding him for trying to go to bed without eating. “Won’t be able to sleep at this rate.”
Renard curled up next to Vruxeor and placed his head on his stomach, listening to the groans. “I think I will, though,” he purred. “I have to admit, I’m starting to see the appeal of this.”
“I didn’t expect you to be so forward,” Vruxeor admitted, face flushed. He could feel his stomach vibrating against the side of Renard’s cheek.
“Me? Forward? Don’t give me all the credit. You were the one who gave me the idea in the first place.”
“You’re welcome.”
Renard hummed happily and blew out the candles that lit the room. He spent the rest of the night happily with his face buried in Vruxeor’s noisy stomach.
Category All / All
Species Human
Size 1280 x 1036px
File Size 327.8 kB
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