Erotic short. The god Freyr rewards his priest for a good harvest.
Rated E, 1k, M/M between a huge-cocked god of fertility and his trans masc priest! Featuring size difference, belly bulging, stuffing, food kink, hand-feeding, teasing, threats, and D/s!
Freyr and Esben first appeared in Divine Bodies:
https://johannestevans.medium.com/divine-bodies-10181021bd7
The harvest had been very good this year, which Esben had of course been pleased with, given as he had helped sow the fields and plant the crop, helped to bring it all in, to package it aside, to dry what needed drying… He liked the harvest time, enjoyed to set himself to work alongside the others to village, to feel the ache in the heavy muscle his god had seen fit to grow for him, to feel the glisten of the sweat on his skin.
The harvest had been even better than he’d thought, evidently, because this reward, he had not at all expected.
Esben was impaled on Freyr’s mighty cock, its fat spear piercing open his cunt, keeping him in his place on the comfortable seat of Freyr’s fat thighs, and Esben leaned back against the wonderful heat and thick cushion of Frey’s body, of his belly and his thick-haired chest.
Before them was laid a banquet table, and Esben knew from the sight of it that he was eating from another party’s leavings, for when he had arrived from the mystic wood that led to Freyr’s domain, he had seen that many of the plates and bowls were half empty.
Freyr seemed to think he might pour all of that which was left beside directly down Esben’s throat, and Esben was already feeling dizzy with everything he had eaten, and oh, but it was the best food he’d ever tasted. Apart from the way his belly bulged with the weight of cock inside him, his stomach felt slightly strained, but there was still so much upon the banquet table he had yet to sample, and still, he hungered, ached to taste this food of the divine, on which he’d laid his mortal gaze.
“The duck now,” said Freyr in his rumbling voice, full of pleasure and good humour — he was still drunk from his party, Esben thought, because his hands had been clumsy when they had picked him up to drop him onto his cock, and they were just a little too rough, too heavy-handed, with Esben now in a way that made him throb with want and arousal. The duck had been stripped into pieces of meat glistening with fat, and when Freyr brought a piece to his mouth, Esben couldn’t help but moan around Freyr’s huge fingers, licking the juice from them even as he tasted the sublimity of the meat.
The duck was perfectly roasted, moist enough that when he bit into it the meat parted with ease under his teeth and all but melted on his tongue with the barest of chews, but oh, how it was salty and rich and heavy, how it burst with flavour and wonderful juice. When he swallowed, he felt its lump pass down his throat, and he grunted, shifting his position in Freyr’s lap.
He’d already unbuckled and cast aside his belt.
“What now, hm?” asked Freyr in his ear, his great hands sliding up beneath Esben’s tunic and over the curve of his belly, grasping hold of the rolling fat each side and tugging. “Mmm, still thin, still thin. If you ate like me, boy, you’d be as strong and fat as I am.”
“If I ate like you, lord, I’d die thrice a day from the strain,” replied Esben, and Freyr’s belly laugh made his cock shudder and jump where it was stuffed into Esben’s cunt, making him groan his pleasure, clenching around the heavy rod of it.
“The bread,” Freyr decided, taking a thick slice of a creamy-white loaf embedded with wonderful, toasted seeds, and Esben’s mouth almost watered at the sight of it in Freyr’s hand even before Freyr took up a knife and smeared a golden yellow butter onto it, the balmy heat of Freyr’s realm letting it turn a brighter gold still and sink into the bread’s meat, shining under the light.
When Esben opened his mouth and took a bite, he found that the butter was even better than he could ever have imagined, impossibly creamy and just slightly salty, and the bread had been made not only with flour and seeds but also with a fragrant arrow grass like chives, but stronger in flavour, so that it was imparted with a spiced flavour that burst upon his tongue and rested warm there, as though every chew of his teeth was the movement of two flints making a spark.
He chewed about the thick morsel of bread, swallowing it down, and he closed his eyes as Freyr brought the piece of bread close again, making him take another bite, another, another —
His stomach ached with the strain, now, and irregularly he would feel the packed-full pocket within him clench painfully, the muscle about it cramping. It made him grunt each time, and on the third or fourth of these quiet sounds of strain, Freyr pressed his fingers to the place where his stomach was full and tender and rubbed, making a slow circle of his palm and strong, hot fingers against Esben’s belly, going between squeezing and pushing on his belly and feeling for the rod of his cock in Esben’s belly.
“The mushrooms next, fried in more of this butter, and bulbs of fresh garlic, too — and needles from the sailor’s pine, to lend their fresh and acidic flavour.”
The mushrooms made him want to die, for the sheer ecstasy of their taste and texture as much as the way that swallowing him made him feel he should burst, and Esben obediently ate every piece that Freyr brought up to his mouth, licking every flavour from Freyr’s fingers.
“Will you kill me with this meal, lord?” asked Esben dreamily.
“My dear and beloved Ebbe,” purred Freyr, “I shall stuff you until you think you are dead, but I would never kill you.”
“Comforting,” said Esben dryly, and Freyr’s laugh made him moan in pain and pleasure alike, rocking through him.
It was a good harvest — he would accept any reward his lordship felt was deserved.
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