Roy & Max: Vol. 2 - Part 9: Valuable Asset (Patreon)

ROY

ROY: Babe, could you pass me the shower gel? It’s on your side.

MAX: Sure, you want the Orange - What’s this, the Orange Blossom and Mango - or the blue one? It says Sea Salt.

ROY: Uh, the blue one? Please. You want me to soap up your back?

Max got too huge to soap all of himself in the shower a good while ago now. I gotta admit I find that so, so hot, and I know he loves it too, he tells me all the time. He enjoys being ‘too big’ for some things.

What I didn’t expect was the same thing starting happening to me…

MAX: Mmm yes please, gorgeous man.

ROY: No problemo. But, uh, gimme a kiss before you turn around.

MAX: Yessir.

...

Mmmm, that always feels so good, the way you work your hands in there like that. I love how you get the soap all in my folds and rolls.

He’s just like a huge ball of a man these days; perfect to hold and kiss and rub and lather up. I have to lift his enormous belly to get the soap into his groin and fat pad, and good God does that drive me wild.

Still, it’s getting a little cramped in the wetroom lately, thanks to my own expansion.

I gotta say, I’m starting to get out of breath easier too. I can really feel this extra weight now. I know I’ve slowed down some. And the bed’s started making ominous creaks...

ROY: Anything for my big fat CEO. You know how much I’m into your big juicy rolls, hehe. Would it be okay if you did my back too? I, uh, I’m having a harder time reaching around myself at the moment.

MAX: Of course, handsome.

And you look - and feel - fucking amazing to me, by the way. Just as you always have. I know these gains weren’t exactly in your life plans, but you’re still my huge handsome man, no matter what. There’s just more of you to love now.

ROY: I know, sweetheart. And I appreciate that, thanks. I love you too.

MAX: We will get to the bottom of this. I know I keep saying that, but I’m cracking the whip on Legal as hard as I can.

ROY: Well, don’t go too hard on ‘em. It’s not their fault the damned contract is so watertight. It’s mine for ever signing the stupid thing in the first place.

Not a day goes by I don’t curse myself for that. I mean, I can’t REALLY double my weight in such a short space of time, can I? That’s totally crazy! I mean, a YEAR for crying out loud! I’ll fucking pop before the time’s up. And the sand’s already running out too fast...

MAX: How ‘bout we go out for breakfast after this? I heard ‘Gerard’s’ finished the remodeling in town. I could wear my suit and tie?

ROY: Ugh, you’re so freaking adorable, Max. And that sounds great, but I’ve got clients coming before noon. I need to set up in the photography studio.

MAX: Then I’ll make you some pancakes to take back there. Gotta keep you fed. I’ll put all the extras you like all over ‘em. I think we’ve still got some of that butterscotch sauce.

ROY: Hmmph. I’m supposed to be keeping you all fed and fat, and I’m doing a shitty job at that lately. I’m sorry, sweetheart.

It’s been tough, making sure I stuff enough into my gut to keep up the gains, whilst also running the photography business, and trying to take care of Max’s belly too. I hate that I’m slipping on that front. I feel like I’m failing him.

MAX: Hey, what’d I tell you before, you huge sexy man? I’m a big boy, and I can handle it. Plus, I’m pulling the Boss card here - You let big fat Daddy Max look after you, okay?

ROY: You’re gonna make me hard again.

MAX: Then I can look after that, too...

(LATER, IN THE KITCHEN)

MAX (singing to himself): Even if we’re just dancing in the dark, doodoot doodoot do do doo...

Breakfast’s all eaten, coffee’s brewin’, I’m a happy fat Max. Roy’s in the studio with his extra pancakes. The sun’s shining. I guess I should call Legal again for a check in.

KNOCK KNOCK

MAX: Huh? Maybe Roy’s client showed up early. I’ll just send ‘em on through.

(Opening the door): Hi, are you here for -

Oh.

LESTER: Ah, Max. What a pleasant surprise.

MAX: What do you want? You’re not welcome here.

LESTER: Surely your husband told you I’m obliged to check in on his progress? It’s all there in black and white, if you read the contract.

MAX: I know plenty about your goddamned contract. I want you away from my husband. He’s doing his part, for now. That’s all you need to know.

LESTER (stepping in): Still, better to see for myself. I’m sure you understand.

MAX (blocking the way): Listen to me, you sad little creep. He’s busy. He doesn’t need checking up on. And you’ve already outstayed your welcome.

LESTER: Uh, haha... Max... You don’t seem to-

MAX: It’s Mr Morgan-Baker to you!

And by the way, stay the hell off our property - sneaking around, peeping through our windows - and quit trying to get through to my office while you’re at it. They screen for pest callers.

LESTER: I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. And you should be aware that by denying me my routine checks, Roy risks further breaching his contractual service.

MAX: “Service”? Is that what you call this? My husband is stuffing himself day and night, blowing up like a balloon for you and your employer. Our bed’s about to break, for Christsake! Why don’t you scurry back to your little company and tell them that?

LESTER: Oh, I’ll be sure to.

But actually, I wonder...

MAX: (Sigh) What?

LESTER: Max... Ahem, Mr Morgan-Baker, you’re a man of significant stature - not just physically but in the economic realm.

MAX: You’ve just noticed? How swell.

LESTER: You know, a man like you could be a valuable asset to our company.

MAX: Ha! Give me a break. Whatever it is you’re slithering around, forget it.

LESTER: You’d make a good fit...

MAX: And what exactly IS your company, anyway? Considering your contract is like a friggin’ phonebook, there’s curiously little detail in there about your employer or the organisation you both work for. And there’s nothing on the internet either.

LESTER: We are extremely... select. Discretion is something a pillar of the organization, you might say.

Succession within our ranks is exceedingly rare, promotion nigh-impossible. But you... you, Mr Morgan-Baker, could slot right in at a high tier. In fact, given MorganCorp’s stock, I’d say very high indeed.

MAX: You’re seriously trying to recruit me? Have you lost your fucking mind? Unless it gets my husband out of your slimy little grip, I’m not interested, you hear?

LESTER: You’ve seen it yourself, Max. The contract is binding. Nothing can undo it.

MAX: We’ll just see about that, buddy boy. Mark my words.

And now I’ve got work to do. Watch the door.

LESTER: But, Max, if-

SLAM!

(IN ROY’S STUDIO)

CLIENT: Uh, excuse me - sorry, the door was ajar, so...

ROY: Hmm? Oh, hi! Hello. Sorry, I was just getting all set up. Excuse the plates, my husband made pancakes, haha.

CLIENT: Oh, that’s not a bother at all.

ROY (shaking his hand): Hi, I’m Roy - I guess you already know that, heh.

It’s... JB, right? You emailed a while back?

This guy’s big! Like... BIG! He could even give me a run for my money. I wonder how much he benches?

JB: Uh, yeah, that’s right.

ROY: And it was, if I remember... headshots? That’s what I’m setting up for here. I hope I got that right, haha.

JB: Um, yes. Yes, sure.

ROY: So, is this for acting gigs? Are you an actor? Cos if you want black and white, I can tweak the lighting set-up for more contrast.

JB:...

ROY: You, uh, you want something to drink maybe? Coffee, or some water, or...? It sometimes gets a little hot under the studio lights after a while.

JB:... I’m fine.

ROY: No problem. Hey, is that an accent I hear? Is it London?

JB: Uh, yeah, actually, that’s right.

ROY: You came a long way to get your picture taken, haha.

JB: Well, you’re a hard man to track down.

…

What?

ROY: Uhhh...

... Oh! The wait list. Right! I’m sorry about that. I’m still working on getting a better system set up for new clients.

JB:...

What’s with this guy? Is he just painfully shy or... I don’t know.

ROY: Are you okay there, bud?

JB: You’re right. I did come a long way to see you.

Okay… Why does that make me feel weirded out?

ROY: Uh... Listen, I don’t mean to sound rude but… do I know you, or…? Have we met before or something, cos...

JB: We’ve never met, but we are connected, in a way.

The heck does that mean?

Do I need to be on alert here?

JB: It took a lot to find you, Roy.

Crazy stalker?

Could I take him, if I had to? The alarm bells are goin’ off here.

ROY: You’re... not here for photographs, are you?

JB: No.

Should I call out for Max? My cell’s in the lounge, dammit. Can’t dial for the police from here. Or am I just overreacting?

JB: My name’s Jamie. Jamie Beck.

ROY: Uh... okay...

What - What brought you here, Jamie?

JB: I came here to warn you: The man you’re dealing with - the one in the grey outfit who keeps coming here? He and his organization are extremely dangerous.

Tell me something I DON’T know. But how would this guy be onto them too?

ROY: Go on.

JB: I know them. I know all about them. The inner workings and everything. They’re called The Rookery.

ROY: And you... traveled all the way to the States just to tell me this?

JB: I’m not some crazy person. And I’m not here to… Look, I’m telling you this because I barely escaped from them with my life.

But if you’re not careful, they WILL take yours.