Paimon’s gut sagged out in front of him, swollen and restless, every shift inside stirring up heavy noise. BLLLRRRRGGGHHHH… SLRSSSHHHHH… FWUBBLLLOOORPPP. The fleshy dome writhed as though alive, a cauldron of wet motion. Draped in a maroon-and-gold robe, he stood tall, posture rigid, one claw braced against the wobbling swell. His beak hung open in a stern frown as he spoke, voice weighted with expectation.

“Well, Octavia,” he rumbled, patting the dome with a heavy palm, “are you ready to follow with your arranged marriage, or must I keep you stewing?”

Inside, the chamber kneaded against her, thick folds of muscle squeezing in rhythm with a sluggish churn. Warm fluids rippled against her thighs with a sloppy SLORRRSHHH, drenching her feathers in sticky heat. Yet Octavia sat still, arms crossed and unimpressed, her expression flat and unyielding despite the humid pressure. Her muffled voice, sharp and stubborn, cut through the walls with ease.

“I could stew in here all day,” she said flatly. “Doesn’t change the fact I’m asexual.”

The belly growled angrily in response—GROOOOOWWWLLL… BLRRRGGGLLRRPPP… SHHHLLLOOORRPPP!—as if his very body was insulted by her defiance. Paimon’s chest swelled, his stern face twisting tighter as pressure surged up his throat, before he leaned back and released a thunderous belch.

“BWOOOOAAARRRPP!!! Hhhahhh…”

The chamber rattled with the aftershock, its walls clamping inward with a messy SLRSHHHHH… FWUBBLLORPPP. Octavia sighed at the spray of condensation, her voice dripping with sarcastic boredom.

“Nice,” she muttered. “Real classy, grandpa…”

Another ripple rolled through him, the great gut groaning with a drawn-out BLLLRRRGGGHHHH… FWUBBLLLOORPPP, before finally settling into a heavy churn. His robe shifted with the movement of the swollen mass as he exhaled through his frown, eyes narrowing in cold authority. Yet the truth lay deeper within. Paimon’s stomach had swallowed Octavia’s body, yes—but not her will. She remained as stubborn as ever, stewing in defiance that even digestion couldn’t break.

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This concept grew from the thought of Paimon, Stolas’s father, potentially trying to enforce the same arranged marriage system—something he orchestrated for Stolas, with him marrying Stella—onto his granddaughter, Octavia. You see, back in the beginning of Season 2, it was revealed that Paimon was the one who arranged Stolas’s marriage the moment he came of age. Given how heavy the show leans into generational conflict, it’s not hard to imagine this dynamic reappearing in Season 3, with Paimon making Octavia follow the same path.

But Octavia herself is confirmed to be asexual—something the Vivienne and her team nodded to directly by including her in the official Pride Month artwork, draped in ace flag colors. Which means any attempt to force her into romance or marriage would run directly against who she is. That clash—between Paimon’s expectations of royal Goetian traditions and Octavia’s resistance—is what inspired this voracious idea!

Art © me
Paimon & Octavia © Helluva Boss/Vivziepop

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