The workshop was quiet tonight — too quiet.

Tools hung neatly along the wall, soft moonlight pouring through the dusty window panes as Dallas wiped grease from his paws. By day, this place buzzed with broken holophones and fried circuit boards. By night… it became something else entirely.

Dallas turned slowly.

The Luxray sat bound tight to a chair in the center of the room, tail twitching nervously, glowing eyes darting between the exits — and then up.

Way up.

Dallas loomed like a mountain of fur and muscle, his once-athletic frame now buried beneath layers of soft, heavy bulk. His massive belly hung low and wide, round as a beach ball, swaying slightly with every step he took forward. It let out a deep, hungry grrrrgle, echoing in the shop.

“P-please…” the Luxray stammered. “I can pay you more than they did. I swear—”

Dallas’ ears flicked.

Didn’t even slow him down.

His thick tail dragged across the floor as he approached, a paw resting proudly atop the vast curve of his gut. The heat from his fire-type body made the air feel heavy — thick with anticipation.

“Funny thing,” Dallas rumbled, voice low and amused.
“Everyone says that.”

His belly growled louder, a slow, eager churn like it already knew what was coming.

The Luxray strained against the ropes.
“You don’t have to do this! You run a shop! You fix things—!”

Dallas leaned down, his enormous shadow swallowing the smaller Pokémon whole.

“Yeah,” he smirked, patting his gut with a soft whump.
“And at night… I clean up messes.”

Another growl rolled through his middle — long, needy, impatient.

The Luxray’s pleas faded into panicked breathing as Dallas straightened up, licking his lips.

Dinner was served.