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Yoongi is surprised when on his very first day at the restaurant, he is led into a storage room by one of the other waiters, a really handsome man who looks more like a boy. 

"You're the new guy, right? Chef said you were coming today.”

Right. That's Yoongi - the new guy. But why are they standing in a storage room? 

"Clothes off," the waiter says, expression void of emotion. The name tag pinned to his shirt reads "Jungkook". 

Yoongi blushes. Blinks. Backs away. He rattles a few jars of jam that are minding their own business on a shelf and spins, trying to save them from an unfortunate topple.

"Ex-excuse me?" He stammers at Jungkook, who is starting to look impatient while Yoongi fixes up the jams.

"You can't do your job in that," Jungkook says, gesturing at Yoongi's casual attire. He sounds young as well. Only his shoulders and forearms make him look mature, and his thick sturdy looking legs. 

Yoongi stops himself from flirting only at the sight of the man's frown. His well-proportioned body is dressed in a uniform, a little apron of sorts draped across his front with a notebook and pen jutting out of the pocket. 

Right. He presumes he is expected to change into the uniform. 

Jungkook doesn't seem to be leaving so Yoongi starts shrugging out of his jacket. 

But the waiter's eyes are still locked on him.

"Uh, could you turn around? Please?" A blushing Yoongi requests. 

Jungkook snorts but turns. 

He undresses quickly, like a disguised superhero called to action, pulling pants and jacket off swiftly. 

"Jungkook! Is he ready?" The chef yells, bursting through the swing doors. His voice rattles the shelves and makes Yoongi jump in fright.

Jungkook turns to look at Yoongi. "Almost," he calls out to the chef and pulls down Yoongi's boxer shorts in one swift movement. 

Yoongi doesn't get time to cover himself or protest before the chef is ushering him out into the main kitchen, nude as the day he was born. 

"Hey!" He tries to place his hands over the important bits but suddenly his arms are being held in an iron-strong grip, pulled behind his back as if he’s being arrested by the waiter from the storage room. 

Yoongi tries not to trip as he is forced forward. He is so startled that he doesn't know how to respond to the chef's grip on his jaw, pulling his mouth open so his disagreement sounds no clearer than "ah". 

Between the unusually strong waiter and even more unusually strong chef, he doesn't know which one to fight.

It doesn't matter. His stature is significantly smaller than both of them and they manhandle him easily, his confusion and inexperience hindering his defences. 

He doesn't feel defensive enough to throw punches and in the present location, he's not entirely sure whether he ought to be fighting back. He's not in a dark alley or a seedy club. He's in a well-lit, reputable restaurant kitchen and he doesn't understand what is happening. 

He realizes momentarily that there's something in his mouth, probably put there by the chef a moment ago in the tousle. But he's distracted by his nakedness, he's still wondering when he's going to get his uniform. 

Why is he naked?  It feels like a fever dream. Especially with the tv drama-looking chef who seems too chiseled to be real. 

Yoongi feels like a doughy pizza base being tossed around. 

He is guided towards a large metal table and then quite suddenly, he is flat on his back, looking up at the ventilation system and smoke detectors. It is terribly uncomfortable and feels almost surgical from its cleanliness and reflective shine. 

A shiver passes through his body from the coldness of the metal table beneath his bare ass. Fortunately, the kitchen is warm and the steam carries aromas of soups and roasts around the room. Swirling into something mouth-watering and intangible. 

But Yoongi’s body is tangible - very tangible - and people are touching. 

He goes to sit up but, as if sensing it, the waiter places a hand on his chest and holds him down with firm ease.

Yoongi doesn't realize that his hands are moving down to hide his private parts from all the invasive eyes until his wrists are being grabbed and pulled up past his head. 

He can feel ropes being wrapped around his wrists. It feels like someone is tying them to the legs of the table. 

As another rope is thrown over his torso and tightened, Yoongi has the sensation of being caught in a fishing net. 

They work quickly, with practiced movements like this is merely a chore, a routine. Like a baker kneading dough, or a sushi chef slicing up salmon, they pull and tie in a blur that betrays their experience in maneuvering naked boys.

Before long, he is completely immobilized, naked and blushing and yelling.

What's going on? Why hasn't he been given his uniform? 

He realizes, with horror that his jaw isn't doing what he wants it to because it's being forced open by the thing in his mouth.

It's large and when he presses his tongue against it, it doesn't budge but the taste of it is familiar. 

It's an apple. He has been gagged with an apple. 

His heart rate picks up. It seems too ridiculous to consider that he is about to be roasted but that's what all the evidence points to.

He struggles harder, wriggling against the metal table, the ropes, and Jungkook's brute strength. 

"Calm down we're not going to cook you," Jungkook chuckles, a joke that Yoongi can't find funny because that had been a genuine fear only a second ago. "You're just serving."

Serving. Yoongi had signed up to serve food but not like this.

The busy restaurant kitchen feels like the last place that anyone at all should be naked. Least of all Yoongi who arrived mere seconds ago.

"Pretty thing, this one," a waitress says, slapping Yoongi's thigh as she goes past with a tray of drinks. 

"I know. He's perfect. Look how narrow he is here." The chef rubs his hands across Yoongi's belly. It tickles and Yoongi wants to thrash but he can't. There must be more ropes on him than he realized because he's almost entirely immobile. 

Someone is using a chopping board nearby. 

He listens to the chopping, deciding what to conclude from the sharp thuds when suddenly his ankles are grabbed and his legs are hoisted upward, lifting his ass completely off the table. 

A very strong person is holding his legs there. He suspects the waiter, mini-hulk with the rabbit face and fashionable hair. 

The waiter cuffs his ankles in something surprisingly comfortable. 

He's confused until the cuffs are used to secure his legs to massive hooks hanging down from the ceiling. He hadn't even registered that they were there, they fit in so well with the rest of the kitchen.

When the waiter lets go, Yoongi realizes his legs are spread and pointing skyward, putting everything between them on exhibition. His hole, his manhood, his ball sac and the bare sensitive skin between. 

It is the most explicitly exposed he has ever felt. In a room full of people that are bustling about and yelling about vegetables and breads, he wants so desperately to close his legs, to hide those intimate erogenous parts but he can't. 

He only has a moment to be thankful that he shaved everywhere but that doesn't make him any less shy. 

Now that he is fully immobile, trapped, the people seem to retreat. They've got him as restrained as they want him so they move on to other things. 

They don't care that the metal table is uncomfortably cold and hard under him, or that he wants the apple out of his mouth, or that he doesn't think this many people have seen his dick in the long course of his life. 

He tries to slow his breathing, tries to calm down so he can think clearer. Panic and fear isn’t helping him at all. 

Serving food. It’s probably just sushi. That won’t be so bad. Sure, he would have very much preferred a warning or at least been allowed to consent first but he can survive being a sushi platter for a while.

He can’t help but wonder why they hadn’t chosen a girl for this.

There's a waitress nearby, bringing back dirty dishes, who seems to have read his mind. 

"Our guests today are particularly partial to having their meals served on pretty boys. You seem like just their type." 

The chef is back, looking as handsome as ever and intimidating from Yoongi's bound position on the table. He introduces himself as Seokjin, but the name leaves Yoongi's brain as soon as he hears it. 

He's too distracted by the oil that Seokjin is drizzling on his skin. The hands that follow, the hands of strangers, are rubbing it in, coating his bare body and making it glisten. If he closes his eyes he can pretend it's a massage. But it isn't. 

He can hear the sound of sizzling food frying, of cutlery clanging and taps being opened and closed. 

He tries to say something but is unable to produce any distinguishable language sounds. "Glah luhr deh!" is the closest he gets to words and no one pays any attention anyway. 

They seem to have finished coating his flesh in olive oil.

The chef, Seokjin, is now coating his own hands in oil in a lewd fashion. Rubbing and rubbing. If Yoongi didn't know better, it would look like the chef was jerking off his own fingers. 

He moves to stand between Yoongi's legs, looking down at his naked, oiled form and Yoongi's stomach drops. He makes urgent sounds through the apple, pulls against the ropes, his movement rolls the metal table a little but accomplishes no more than that. 

The chains holding his feet in the air clang but don't let him close his legs. 

The chef rubs his finger several times around the tight ring of Yoongi's asshole, coaxing it slowly to unclench so that he can slide inside. It doesn't take long at all and Yoongi's body betrays him by letting the finger inside too easily. Almost as if he were eager. 

He can only lie there, humiliated as he sees the handsome chef smirk and run more oil around the entrance, coating it thoroughly. He smirks more when Yoongi makes a pleading sound, toes curling. 

"Feels good, I know. Don't worry, we'll get something inside soon. My cooks are still busy." 

Yoongi's eyes widen, and he struggles more, even though his muscles feel tired from how much he has been fighting. 

"Let's see if we can entertain you for a bit. You arrived early, you know, so we have some time," the chef says as if offering Yoongi a welcome drink at a party. 

Yoongi wishes he hadn't arrived early but he had wanted to make a good impression at his new job. 

He's still trying to figure out what the chef means by "entertain" when the fingers inside him curl, searching for his prostate. 

Just knowing what the chef intends to do has him shivery with arousal. From the anticipation of the pleasure, his cock begins to harden. He can't help it, his body is excited regardless of what his brain thinks on the matter.

Seokjin regards the erection thoughtfully. 

"Perfect. We have a gay little slut on our hands. The guests are going to love that," he smiles to himself. 

He intentionally misses Yoongi's prostate to rub at the walls of muscle inside him, watching his victim's red flushed face for a reaction. 

Yoongi shuts his eyes tightly and tries to ignore the way his whole body comes alive from the touch, tries to ignore the way his cock can't help but turn rock hard. 

The chef lets out a pleased hum. "Sensitive too. Wonderful." He hasn't touched the boy's prostate and already he looks so unbelievably horny. His face is so expressive, despite the apple his pretty lips were stretched around. His eyes say so much. 

He would only make Seokjin's art better, only make the food more enjoyable. 

And then, with his fingers still up Yoongi's ass, he hollers so loudly that the pots and pans shake. "JUNGKOOK! BRING THE RING!" 

"Already?" Jungkook shouts back, his laughter echoing through the kitchen from wherever he is. 

It is at this moment that Seokjin's fingers suddenly graze his prostate and he bucks wildly, hardly disturbing anyone's work because the ropes hold him still. But the pleasure shoots through his body and he feels like he's spasming and the chef is stretching him, fingers deep inside, the slide smooth with olive oil.

Jungkook arrives at the naked twink display with a golden ring but much larger than one would expect. 

There's no way it's made for a finger and Yoongi has a bad feeling about it. 

His trepidation is warranted, because Jungkook proceeds to fix it around the base of Yoongi's cock. 

The cock ring will keep him erect and stop him from cumming and everything about it makes Yoongi groan complaints that can't be understood. 

Not that he can imagine cumming under the circumstances but it is humiliating nonetheless. It gets worse when thin gold chains are fixed to the ring and draped and fastened around his cock. 

Much like the rest of his body, it looks tied up, decorated with ropes. 

It's pretty and there's nothing he can do about it. 

Seokjin proceeds to rub lightly at Yoongi's nipples, teasing them until they pebble. Yoongi hadn't thought his nipples were sensitive. He always answered no when partners asked him about it. But evidently, he must have been doing something wrong because the way Seokjin is touching him makes him see stars. 

His jaw clenches at the extreme pleasure running like electricity under the skin in his chest. The chef pinches both nipples harder than Yoongi can handle but the rush of arousal is earth-shattering. 

From the chain wrapped around his cock, Seokjin carefully attaches an identical gold chain that ends in two clamps. Yoongi eyes the clamps with horror but there's nothing he can do to stop them getting nearer to his sensitive chest, now red from how Seokjin had abused it. 

He pulls the chain taught enough to tug on the rest of the chains, and clips them onto Yoongi's cute little buds.

His erection is held in place against his body with delicate exquisite bonds. He looks like art. Like an expensive whore. 

It's subtle but effective and his arousal only kicks up a notch at the unusual bondage.

The way the chef is looking at him makes his cock throb and pulsate in its chains with the need to be touched. He whines a pretty whine, body wriggling and thrusting naturally from being teased. 

He's still slicked up everywhere with oil, sensual and erotic. It's embarrassing but he's so painfully aroused that he almost can't care. He huffs through his nose in frustration, wriggling more.

"Pretty. Don't you think, Jungkook?" Seokjin says when it's done. 

Jungkook makes a nonchalant sound of agreement and asks the chef if there's anything else he needs. Yoongi feels too distracted by his chained up cock to listen properly. 

He probably should have listened because the chef is now lubing up a nozzle. Lubing it up with olive oil, just like he had done to Yoongi's asshole. 

There's no mystery about where the nozzle is going and Yoongi struggles again futilely. This time, the chain around his neck pulls his cock and he lets out a surprised squeak that doesn't bother anyone.

The chef pushes the nozzle inside him in one swift motion. "I have more important things to be doing. Where the fuck is Taehyung?" He grumbles, holding the nozzle still while Yoongi tries and fails to expel it by bearing down. His efforts only seem to let the nozzle in further.  

Right then, a lanky man with hair that falls in his eyes,  tumbles in through the kitchen's swing doors, wrapping an apron around his waist. 

"I'm here I'm here I'm here!" He announces, panting and skidding over to Seokjin. 

"You're late," the chef replies curtly. "I've done your prep for you but it is unacceptable for the chef to be doing a waiter's job." 

"Yes chef. You're right, chef. I'm sorry chef," Taehyung apologizes quickly but with little sincerity, knowing that the chef could have asked any of the staff to do it but chose to do it himself.

He takes Seokjin's place in holding the nozzle, with a hidden smirk.

Connected to the nozzle is a pipe which ends in a funnel.

Jungkook brings over a bottle of champagne.

"Uncork it away from me Jungkook. I swear to god, last time that bruise lasted a fucking week. If you even-" 

"Okay okay okay okay-" Jungkook mutters as he pops open the champagne neatly. There's no explosion or celebration. He opens it so as to preserve as much of the champagne inside the bottle as possible. 

Yoongi cannot believe what's happening to him. His erection cannot wilt and with all the blood rushing to his groin and away from his brain, he feels stupid and slow, wondering what they're going to do with the funnel and the champagne and the nozzle up his ass. 

When in his right mind, it would be immediately obvious.

So he is absolutely stunned when Taehyung turns the bottle upside down into the funnel. 

"Open wide cutie," Taehyung jokes as the champagne glugs out of the bottleneck and down the tube. 

Yoongi tries to reach for the nozzle despite the impossibility of it. The ropes cut into his wrists as he strains to reach and unplug himself before the liquid reaches his ass. 

Yoongi's shriek is drowned out by the apple and the bustling kitchen beyond that, when the cold bubbly drink reaches his hole.

He's grateful that it's room temperature but it still feels so wrong to have liquid filling his intestines from the wrong direction. It's uncomfortable at first as the bottle empties and the contents finds its way inside him. 

When Jungkook begins emptying out the second bottle, it starts to hurt. He feels full in a way that he never has before. Like he needs to use the toilet.

It's hard to comprehend that he's upside down and slowly filling with champagne. It's too bizarre to be real but the ache is proof that it is really happening. 

He watches his tummy begin to bulge unnaturally and he groans through the apple. He tries to kick his feet, tries to move at all but he's helpless. 

Taehyung doesn't stop and Yoongi's eyes are tearing up from the way his middle is expanding. 

Still, Jungkook uncorks another bottle. 

Gagged, Yoongi pants through his nose as he is filled past his limit, and he lets out a muffled shout of fear and panic.

Just when he thinks he's about to explode, they stop and pull the nozzle out. 

He's still panting, with relief that it stopped and persistent discomfort from being so full. Yet his dick remains erect and his body remains aroused, like it's trying to spite him. 

Despite his better judgement, his body seems excited about all the strange new things that are happening to it. And the stupid thing likes pain. 

Being upside down, he can't dispel the champagne if he tried. His hole is like a vase, filled to the rim. 

There are more people gathering down on that side of the table, looking down between his legs.

He wants to pull his thighs together now more than he ever wanted to before. It's undeniable that all the attention and focus on his most sensitive parts are having an affect and his cock jerks, leaking and throbbing and generally misbehaving in a way that is humiliatingly obvious. 

Someone is holding a carrot and that doesn't sit well with Yoongi. 

He can certainly make a few guesses about its purpose but his breath hitches when that person presses the tip of the carrot against the now wet entrance between his legs - the entrance that is not made for carrots.

There are three people watching the carrot being pushed into him and none of them bother talking to him. 

"It's going in nicely," one of them says to the other but Yoongi isn't sure he agrees. It feels abnormally large as they push it in, further and further. 

Champagne spills obscenely, gushing out around the carrot like a pornographic fountain. 

"Ah ah, stop there," Chef Jin says to the person holding the carrot. "If you go any further, we won't be able to get it back out." 

Yoongi blanches. 

The staff leave him there, with his insides marinating in alcohol, his mind growing more sluggish by the second. He is sleepy despite the discomfort of his position. The alcohol is possibly being absorbed and intoxicating him. 

Is he going to be used like a beer barrel? That's the only thing he can imagine as he struggles to stay awake. 




The tied up boy looks drowsy as they lower the hooks from the ceiling. They bring his lithe milky legs down to the table until the pretty little twink is horizontal again.

A bucket is dragged out from beneath the table so that it is right at the edge.  

Taehyung pulls the carrot from the boy's hole with one smooth yank and all the champagne drains out into the bucket with precision.

Jungkook tosses its contents down the drain.

They raise his feet again, fill him up, plug his hole, and repeat. 

It's the best method of cleaning, Chef says. 

When they're done, they carry away the last bucket to dispose of and call for Seokjin.

They've already prepared everything he will need for when he arrives.

The boy's legs are pulled up past his shoulders so that his knees are on either side of his head. 

His bubble butt with its cute winking little hole are angled upwards. His dick hangs over his face and the pretty chain dangles there as well. 

It would look like a yoga pose if it weren't for the ropes and bondage and the gag. But his muscles have relaxed, he's not so tense anymore. He looks oddly comfortable bent in half. 

But all of that will change once the chef starts his work on him. If it wasn't for the cock ring, the poor boy would be cumming over and over until it hurt. 

The cock ring is doing him a favor. 



Yoongi sobers up real quick when he sees the metal device in the chef's hand. 

He's alert as fuck, a deer in the forest, a woman walking home at night, a learner driver on a highway. 

"We just need to open up this tight little hole if we're going to fit anything inside," Seokjin explains calmly, only making Yoongi's stress skyrocket. 

He is already stretched out! That's how they got the enema nozzle inside! 

Yoongi tries to say as much but it's useless. 

The chef coos, hooking his thumbs into Yoongi's hole. He tugs a bit, watching as Yoongi's toes curl and the tendons in his neck become visible. 

"Ah, you're so tiny. I was worried for a second. But this is good." 

The tool is pressed inside him, cold and metallic. 

Yoongi hears a click that indicates Seokjin has widened the speculum. And then several more clicks. With each click comes more pressure, more stretch, more pull on his poor hole.

His arousal is peaking, like how he feels right before orgasm. It’s a euphoric dizzying unhinged sort of feeling but there isn’t any stimulation to get him there, just teasing and playing with his body in bizarre ways. He wants to scream but with how much clamor and commotion there is in the kitchen, he doubts anyone will hear him through the gag. 

So he screams and struggles some more, like a kidnapped damsel and as expected, it does nothing to improve his situation.

The chef disappears then, leaving Yoongi with the speculum inside him, stretching his ass. Everyone bustles past him in a flurry of kitchen activity, paying him little attention.

Where his legs ought to be if he was lying flat, one of the cooks places a chopping board, using the empty bit of table as a work surface. Like there isn't a boy tied naked and spread on it.

Seokjin returns and widens the speculum with a few more clicks, hums in satisfaction and leaves again to an area of the kitchen that Yoongi cannot see. 

The next time the chef comes back, he widens it further, and Yoongi feels it like a fist.

"Ah stop please!" He tries to plead.

His cock is full and aching, leaking onto the tight skin of his chest, dripping precum through the pretty gold chains.

But Seokjin only hears a few muffled moans and continues his work, unfazed.

Click click click.

It's like nothing he has ever felt before but it could be compared to a dildo that keeps growing. An inflatable dildo. It feels like that, but with all the stretch and none of the fullness. 

Wide, opened up and empty. 

He can almost feel air inside him. 

The stretch makes Yoongi's head spin and his heart race. Just when he thinks his hole might actually be bigger than the width of his body, as impossible as that sounds, Seokin stops. 

Yoongi is in awe of his own body’s ability to open up this much. It’s frightening and amazing and unbelievably hot, in the worst way.

Is that- is that an aubergine? What are they doing with that aubergine? Where is it going? Surely not. 

That is the largest aubergine he has ever seen, verging on being a watermelon. That is a genetically modified aubergine if he ever saw one. 

It’s not going to fit, even with all the unholy stretching the chef had done. His eyes are bugging out of his head as they bring the massive vegetable to his entrance. 

After holding it there for a second, Seokjin takes it away again. Apparently it was just used for some rough measurement and Yoongi breathes a sigh of relief. 

But knowing that they could have stuffed that thing inside him if they wanted to, is terrifying.

At this point, he’s uncertain about whether he perhaps wants it. He wants to be touched somewhere that feels good. It’s unusual being so naked, being so vulnerable, being under such scrutiny without being pleasured. That’s far from the normal sequence of events. 

Feeling all those things but being a serving dish is frustrating at best and rage-inducing at worst. So far, his emotional state has been hovering somewhere in the middle of the two and overshadowed by his immense arousal.

Yoongi didn’t think he could possibly be more horrified by the things happening to him but he is proven wrong when Seokjin replaces the speculum in his ass with a butt plug. 

But not a plug to seal anything off or fill him up. No, this massive plug is completely hollow, like a tube, with the diameter of a large bowl. It feels like it only opens him up more and he didn’t think that was possible.

He whines, feeling humiliated at how utterly objectified he has become in such a short span of time. After the hollow plug goes in, everyone seems to forget that it is inside a boy at all. 

They begin to work a lot quicker. And he can hardly process the things that happen next.

First, someone brings the chef a plate with a mountain of jello balancing atop it. It’s green and transparent and perfectly wobbly. Yoongi can only imagine that it tastes sugary sweet like dessert ought to. 

He’s fantasizing about how good it would feel in his mouth when the chef begins scooping it up, and spooning directly into his wide-open asshole. He clenches around the plug, doing nothing to actually protect his inside from being filled with jello. Somehow, the entire mountain of jello fits inside him, much like too many bottles of champagne had. 

His belly is already distending and is beginning to ache, when one of Seokjin’s assistants drops a few small cubes of ice in after the jello. 

The cubes must have buried themselves inside the jello because Yoongi doesn’t feel them immediately. Instead, he feels a slow but steady drop in temperature from the inside. It must be to prevent the jello from liquefying, his brain supplies unhelpfully. Doesn’t change the fact that his ass is now housing a dessert.

This must be it, he thinks. They have to stop now. 

Instead, there is a plate of sweetened bread soaked in sticky syrup, in Seokjin’s hand. He breaks them into smaller pieces but still substantial in size if they’re going where Yoongi thinks they might be going.

Yoongi is so overwhelmed by the increasing cold emanating from within, that he hardly feels the bread being squished inside him. Nor the light drizzle of additional syrup over it. Seokjin uses a long wooden spoon to really push it in against the jello.

There is a pause in activity and Yoongi thinks it might actually be over this time. Until he sees Taehyung, the pretty waiter, lubing up the thinnest of metal rods.

Yoongi's eyes widen in fright but that doesn't stop the waiter from taking Yoongi's chained up dick in his hand. Yoongi moans pathetically at the touch and wishes Taehyung would rub, just a little. 

But he holds it careful still with the precision of a surgeon and slowly fits the metal rod into his piss hole. Directly into his dick. 

It makes Yoongi scream and try to thrash (but ultimately he fails and is forced by the ropes to stay still). The staff must be used to it because no one is in a rush to remove it when they hear his desperate protests. In fact, they're so unresponsive that he wonders whether they heard him at all. 

But he can't stop screaming. Things aren't supposed to go in there. He's certain of it. It feels unnatural and his body is yelling at him to take it out, more than the strange enema or the dessert. 

There is a small metal ball at the end of the rod that sits at the head of his cock, and stops the rod from disappearing inside his cock completely.

They leave it there while someone passes a deep bowl of creamy custard to the chef who begins to ladle the custard into the boy’s ass. He holds the spoon above his hole, where Yoongi has a clear view of it, and drops it in dollops. He eventually gets tired of the slow process and tips the bowl over, filling Yoongi up rapidly enough to elicit a loud whine. 

"You sound so pretty when you whine baby boy. Keep that up, they'll love it," Seokjin encourages. 

As he works, Seokjin begins to have a very one-sided conversation with Yoongi about what these mystery guests enjoy and it does nothing to calm him down. 

"They like knowing the boy is needy and eager and helpless when they eat, that all he wants is their touch. It's part of the entertainment. So it's better if you squirm and whine. Maybe act like it hurts." 

He didn't have to act.

"You already look perfectly flushed and horny. Maybe just play it up a bit, sweetheart. Like you're begging to cum." As Seokjin adds another layer of sweet breadlike cake, he pushes some of it in with his bare hands, purposely hitting Yoongi's prostate and making him squeak and clench and try to thrust. 

"Perfect. Just like that. You've got the hang of it." 

Yoongi gives him a glare that has no effect. He has never made a trifle before but he recognizes the ingredients enough to know that a trifle is being made - inside of him. 

The layer of cake is followed by thin slices of syrupy sweet peaches. 

There’s no way anything else can fit inside him. He feels heavy with the dessert, stretched and full. He has never been pregnant and he has never planned on it, (what with it being physically impossible and all that) but he imagines that this is what it is like. Sans the bondage and gag and exorbitant amounts of jello. 

Did the health and safety inspectors know about this restaurant’s depravity? They ought to be shut down by now, surely. 

Yoongi has adjusted to the metal rod in his dick, so much so that he forgets it's there until Taehyung is pulling it out. It hurts again, but his dick stays hard because of the cock ring and his arousal remains. 

Another, slightly thicker rod is pushed into his slit, into his dick and he scrunches his eyes tightly, taking deep breaths to be able to tolerate it. 

Again, it goes from painfully uncomfortable to hardly worthy of notice in the time it takes the staff to bring over more ingredients for the trifle. 

The dessert is topped off with whipped cream from a can, sprayed directly on top of the layers of sweet treats inside him. It fills him up past the ring holding him open and Seokjin builds a swirl of whipped cream over the opening of his hole.

It looks ridiculous, and it is utterly humiliating but there’s nothing he can do about it. If he thought he was immobile before, it’s even worse now that he’s stuffed so full. He is almost grateful for the ropes holding him in place. Without them, he is afraid he might roll off the table and keep rolling.

He can't decide whether he feels more like a Christmas tree or a wedding cake but either way, it's mortifying.

When Taehyung swaps out the metal rod in his dick again, for a slightly thicker one, Yoongi realizes they're stretching out his piss hole. 

His body feels like it's not his own anymore, it has been so modified and ruined. He feels a creeping trepidation about what they would need to open up his dick for.

He doesn't have to wait long. Through this whole unbelievable process, he hasn't had as much of a desire to escape as he does when he sees Seokjin quickly and easily peeling a stick of fresh ginger and chopping off a micro-thin slice. 

"It's just a little something to keep you excited and wriggly," he says with a scary amount of enthusiasm before pushing the tiny stick of ginger straight into Yoongi's piss hole. 

It burns like something demonic, straight from the fiery depths of hell. And all he can feel was his cock, itching and burning from the inside. 

It made him struggle and writhe more than he had before, but he was restrained so perfectly that all his struggling caused no disruption or interference to any work that had been done on him.

His muscles strained against the ropes but the whipped creamed remained, barely distubed. 

He's restless, still squirming and "looking pretty" as he hears Seokjin say, when the waiter Jungkook blindfolds him and everything goes dark. 

It only makes all the sensations more vivid, the burning, the fullness, the ropes, the clamps. The smell of sugar and whipped cream. 




The first change he notices is the drop in temperature as he is wheeled out of the kitchen. The air is colder away from stovetops and ovens and deep fryers.

Then a bump in the floor as they roll through what he presumes is a door frame. It jostles him and makes everything inside him move and slosh in the most uncomfortable way. 

They must have entered a dining space because he is greeted with a sharp whistle of excitement and a few laughs that he hopes are at a joke he hasn’t heard. 

There is a general exclamation of awe, and one guy seems to be clapping on his own. He doesn’t know exactly how many people are there but it seems fewer than ten, which surprises him. All this for such a small group of people? They must be very important, or very wealthy. Or both.

One of them speaks, and he wishes he could see what they look like."You've really outdone yourself Chef," he says. His voice is gruff but refined and Yoongi has been on edge for so long that he thinks it might make him cum. 

He hadn't realized Seokjin had come along. He assumed the waiters had rolled him out by themselves, Pretty Hulk and Flower Boy. 

He wonders if he can cum around the slice of ginger which is still stinging inside his cock and driving him crazy.

The thought of it brings the burn back to the front of his mind, and he whines, hoping it will be removed now that he's out here in the open. 

No such luck. 

"I hope it's to your satisfaction Sir," the Chef replies.

"Oh I'm sure it will be," someone else replies. 

They are probably done with their main meals because Yoongi hears the very distinct sound of dishes being cleared from a table. 

The sound of footsteps follows, indicating that the staff is filing out but it isn't clear to Yoongi whether some of them have perhaps stayed. 

Still, he feels very much left at the mercy of the diners. 

They don't move him onto a different table. Instead, he feels the table being nudged forward and the voices are a lot closer. Bowls and spoons and other unidentifiable crockery are placed beside his body. 

He can hear it as well as feel the small vibrations in the table. 

He must be between chairs now.

He can't see how they go about eating, but he can feel it. They begin by scooping up some of the whipped cream - whether into their mouths or their bowls, Yoongi doesn't know. 

They empty him out in small portions, with what is likely a long-handled spoon. The spoon presses against his muscle walls as they scrape cake and custard free. It's a sensation unlike any other. 

They don't quite manage to reach the lowest layers and he doesn't think they intend to, so he is left still feeling unnaturally swollen. 

He has no way to get it out but the diners don't seem to have any plans to eat more. 

Forced to lie there while the guests dine, Yoongi manages to identify three distinct people. They are making a lot of noise for him to have thought that there were close to ten of them.

They talk over him, about things that aren't dessert. They are cheerful and funny and he thinks he could be their friend if he met them under normal circumstances. It's futile imagining such things now. 

Occasionally someone will hum in delight at a spoonful of jello or the taste of a peach and Yoongi can feel his face heat up even though his whole body is blushing. 

His toes curl and his ankles bend, and his hands curl into fists because that's the only movement he is allowed, it's the only reaction they get from their human bowl when they scoop out more dessert. 

He gasps and pants and he's drooling terribly around the apple. He has been trying to bite into it but either his jaw is weak or it's a fake apple. 

They all dish out a second round and this time they're sloppy, as if drunk. Pudding drops all over his tummy, onto his cock and on the table around him. He imagines it's a volcano of dessert and sugar. 

They don't seem to care, even when he whimpers.

"Keep struggling, pretty thing," Namjoon says. "You look far more delicious than the dessert." 

Jimin chuckles. "He is the dessert Hyung."

Namjoon makes a sound that is almost a growl. "Don't give me any ideas." 

"Chef said it's fine. If you want to." 

Someone sticks a finger inside him, like a bowl of batter and scoops up a tiny amount of pudding to eat, almost absent-mindedly. 

Yoongi squeaks and the person laughs and does it again. 

"Well," the person says so that Yoongi identifies him as the one they called Hoseok. "If this isn't the clearest invitation I've ever gotten to rim someone-" 

"Hyung, take the ring out," the youngest of the three says. Yoongi hopes he means the cock ring but Hoseok instead starts to wiggle the hollow plug free. "We need him to tighten up a little if we're going to fuck him." 

"Nothing a few spanks to the hole can't fix," Namjoon says. 

When the plug is finally pulled free, Yoongi can feel his ring of muscle trying to return to its original shape. But it can't, after being held so wide for so long, it flutters helplessly, loose and open. 

He feels two large hands on his ass cheeks, holding them spread unnecessarily. And then the lower half of a man's face, presses against his hole. And it's so warm after the icy dessert that filled him, that Yoongi moans. 

"Oh shit he's really on edge," Hoseok says, right up against Yoongi's ass so that he can feel his lips move, the warmth of his breath and his teasing smile.

Then he dives in with his tongue, pushing it in and collecting whatever whipped cream and sweet syrup that he can. 

Yoongi cries out in tortured pleasure and his hole responds under Hoseok's tongue. But Hoseok doesn't seem to be licking him with the goal of pleasuring him. Instead he takes more pleasure in the act itself, in the taste of Yoongi's hole, in the delight of humiliating him and eating out this poor trapped boy stuffed full of trifle. 

It's all about Hoseok but Yoongi can't help how good it feels. 

While Yoongi is distracted by the warm tongue moving inside him and the harsh grip on his ass cheeks, someone grabs the end of the ginger stick and pulls, freeing it from his cock. 

It burns going out as well and Yoongi cries and whimpers and blubbers out nonsense, unable to stop the tears that are dampening his blindfold. 

But they aren't tears for his situation. They're tears from being taken to his physical limit where all he wants is to cum. They're tears of sexual ecstasy and torture all at once. They're begging, pleading tears. 

His cock is leaking now, more than ever, into the pool of custard surrounding it, and then thick, wet soft lips engulf his throbbing cock. The mouth cleans it of the dessert and then leaves it, covered in spit, and still aching painfully for release. 

"Should we take the gag out?" 

Yoongi makes aggressive sounds of agreement, loud and urgent.

"No, it would ruin the image. He looks pretty like that," Namjoon says. 

He doesn't know who's touching him but it's wonderful and again, not for his pleasure. They lick up dessert off his nipples, off his thighs, leave bites in places for their own fun and it tickles as much as it sends waves of electric pleasure through every nerve ending. 

They lick over the gold chains decorating his body as if they aren't there, and the strange combination of hot and cold makes Yoongi shiver.

Fingers graze his sensitive middle, trace along his sides thoughtfully, underneath his ribs which are growing and shrinking with his anxious breaths. They're collecting whipped cream. 

"The blindfold. We can take that off, right? I want to see the rest of his cute face." 

They undo the blindfold and after his eyes adjust, Yoongi nearly passes out. Firstly, at the sight of his own body that looks a bit like zombie carnage if one didn't know it was jello and custard. 

Secondly, at the sight of three extremely intimidating men in suits. They had really seen him naked and ate pudding out of his ass while they were dressed like young billionaires. He wants to evaporate. 

"Hey, don't panic cutie pie," the tallest one says. The voice is Namjoon. A handsome and wealthy looking motherfucker. "We're just having a bit of fun." 

Yoongi attempts to tug his arms free, out of a primal desire to hide his naked body but Hoseok only giggles at him.

"Did Seokjin tell you to struggle? He does that sometimes. It certainly does make it a bit better, doesn't it?" 

Namjoon nods, but he seems to be getting impatient. 

"Move," he says suddenly. With his three middle fingers, he lands a slap, against Yoongi's gaping rim.   

Yoongi hates how good it feels to be degraded and treated in such a way but he's climbing to heights of pleasure he could never have imagined. 

Namjoon spanks him again and Yoongi's hole contracts on reflex, his ass clenching in anticipation of the next slap. 

"Cute," Namjoon says, rubbing at the boy's whipped cream and saliva covered pucker. "Hope we haven't ruined you too much to enjoy you," he jokes. 

He pushes his cock into the tied up boy, uncaring for the syrup that escapes while he fucks. 

After all Yoongi has been through, it's a relief to be penetrated by a human cock, a shaft of large size but regular by aubergine standard. He moans openly, enjoying the way Namjoon hits his prostate so effortlessly in this position. 

Finally Yoongi is no longer confused by his arousal, no longer ashamed of the pleasure he feels because this is sex and it's meant to feel good. Not like champagne and chains and slices of peach. 

"You have pretty eyes, boy," Namjoon says as he rocks forward with a particularly hard thrust. "Keep them on me." 

Yoongi tries but his eyes just want to roll back. 

After being pushed and pulled around all day, he has very little control of his own body. It doesn't feel like it belongs to him, it feels like it belongs to Namjoon and his cock. Feels like it's meant to be used. 

The cock ring is beginning to feel like torture now that Yoongi is being fucked so good. 

He whines out that he wants to come, fingernails clawing at the table above his head desperately. They don't understand his words but they know what he wants.

This doesn't mean they give it to him. 

Instead Namjoon unfastens the nipple clamps. 

Yoongi feels a tingling sensation in his nipples that makes him see double and suddenly Namjoon fills him with cum, adding to the cream already inside him. 

Hoseok goes next. Fucking hard and fast and brutal, shaking the entire table and making Jimin laugh at his wild thrusts.

Yoongi feels like someone shoved a vibrator inside him from how fast Hoseok is moving. It's almost inhuman and it goes by in a blur of immense pleasure that Yoongi spends begging wordlessly for release. 

Jimin fucks him next, adds to the cum with his own and when he's done, takes a bite out of the apple in Yoongi's mouth. 

They have to let him cum now. They just have to. 

Namjoon is hard again and takes a second turn at fucking the boy.

Yoongi feels like they've filled him with almost as much cum as there was jello inside him before and he wants to cum from the thought. He can't stop thinking about it, can't stop enjoying the feeling of being a cumdump to these handsome men. 

They only remove the gag once all Yoongi's words have left him. He's fucked out to the point of slurring and drooling and when they pull the apple away, his jaw hangs loose. 

There's a spoon in front of his face, with a slice of trifle. He has had enough trifle to last a lifetime but for some reason, he accepts it into his mouth and he swallows. It tastes like cum and he doesn't care. 

He is rolled back into the kitchen where he is finally untied and the cock ring is removed. Seokjin barely touches him and Yoongi shoots his cum with convulsions that make his whole body shake violently.

He sags back onto the table like a deflated balloon.

Taehyung and Jungkook are there with warm cloths and a regular water enema that doesn't feel nearly as shocking as the first one had been. 

They wipe him clean gently, and Jungkook even kneads his muscles in soft slow circles, massaging out any remaining tension or strain from being in one position for so long. 

They even lotion him up when they're done and Yoongi feels like he has been through a laundromat. He's sparkly clean and smells like a lemon. 

"You did great Yoongi. They loved you," Seokjin says, cupping Yoongi's face and looking at him with gentle eyes. "You don't have to apply next time okay, just call our reception and ask to speak to me."

That meant the wages he thought he was getting for a whole month, was for one day of work.

He decides right then, while Jungkook and Taehyung help him back into his clothes, that he will be returning. 

He steps outside the restaurant, to discover that the sun is setting. He cannot fully comprehend what happened today but he certainly has time to accept it because this is all he will be thinking about for the next few weeks. 

Just as he's getting ready to hail a taxi, three tall men in fancy dress shoes and tailored suits stride out of the restaurant's front doors, heading towards a long black limo parked up against the curb. 

They give him a cursory glance as the driver opens the back door for them and their eyes sparkle with recognition. 

"Hey! Kid!" Namjoon calls out. "You need a ride?" 

Yoongi doesn't think twice before bouncing over to the limo and hopping inside.