Lomin-Life For Chocolate Cake Rating: PG-13
Diana deRiggs & MaceVindaloo

This story grew from recipe and tale, SuSu's Life Altering "Black Forest" Chocolate Cake, which really is a very good cake!



Hobbie Klivian had been on patrol and piquet duty for nearly three days without a break, so he it wasn't a surprise that he'd been sleeping alone this particular night. As tired as he was, he still heard the door to his shared apartment open, then close with a rush of hydraulics and air. It woke him up not because it was noisy, but because it was uncharacteristically quiet; any time his roommate Wes Janson had come home after a date before, it was done rather noisily — as in lomin-drunken, crashing, giggly, post-coital noisily.

Then he heard sobbing, and he rolled his pillow over his ears to blot the noise. Whatever it was that caused Wes to sob like an until-recently virginal and now-jilted prom queen, Hobbie was not interested in knowing about.

The keening and blubbering persisted and Hobbie could hear it through his layers of insulation. He burrowed himself deeper and deeper under his bedclothes until he had to make a critical decision: make Wes stop the noise, or suffocate. For a while, he chose suffocation, but his lungs eventually forced him to burst out of his bed and into the shared rec-room.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Hobbie screamed at Wes and started slapping the top of the other man's head. "You are driving me crazy, stop that noise!"

Wes put his forearms over his head but didn't attempt to retaliate for this attack. Instead, he moaned, "I've lost her! I've fallen head over heels in love/lust, but I'll never be able to get her back!"

Eyes squinting at the light, Hobbie stopped smacking Wes. "What the hell are you talking about, Jansen?" He tried to remember the girl Wes had gone out with, but all he could recollect was a nondescript blonde. Hobbie tried hard to recall if he'd dated her himself but found all the blondes he'd gone out with in the past month just blurred together.

When Wes resumed weeping, Hobbie smacked him again, "Wes, what is your problem? She's just another blonde in a huge sea of blondes, what's the diff? Go pick up another one and let me get some sleep!" He turned to return to his room, but stopped when the other man grabbed his arm.

"Hobbie! Hobbie, my friend ... my best friend ... you'd understand my situation!" Wes seemed to be genuinely pleading, which spooked Hobbie who brushed off his friend's clutching hands.

"Wes, get a hold of yourself! I know what happened, you took her to dinner, you took her dancing, you grabbed her in some publicly inappropriate place, she slapped you, your ego crumpled and now you're crying like a little bi—"

"No! This was different! She took me home!"

"So? And what, she gave you the 'I'm not that kind of girl' lecture? Puh-leez!"

"Not to bed, not for sex! Listen to me you insensitive clod," Wes had stopped weeping, but his yelling was almost as annoying. "She took me to meet her family!"

Hobbie's fist stopped in mid-flight; it had been aimed at Wes's nose or chin, depending on whether Wes flinched or not before the punch landed. But upon hearing this last bit of information, Hobbie's body and mind froze. "Wh ... wha???"

Wes nodded, "I know what you're thinking, and I thought the same thing ... but she tricked me into it! She said she was taking ME to dinner, and I thought that was cool, I could save some credits tonight ... I figured she was ensuring she could jump me, you know the type?" Both men had met very "forward-acting" women in their dating history, and overall, they liked those women. They might not have been the most beautiful women, but their enthusiasm and willingness to experiment had always made up for any shortfall in age, looks, or flexibility.

"But we end up at her parents' place! I was freaking out when I walked into the apartment, wondering how to avoid the 'and what are you intentions young man' grilling ..."

"Wes, you know the procedure," sighed Hobbie, "you were tricked, you say thank you for the date, good night and you leave!"

"I was going to! But dinner was ready ... and it smelled so good ... it was like the cook was a witch or a sorceress ... it was incredible! It put me in a daze ... she led me to the table ... she whispered to me not to eat too much of the carbo strands, that the good stuff comes after the carbos ... but you know, where I come from, carbo strands and sauce are the whole meal! Her mother — she was the cook — her mother asked me if I'd like more. I didn't even realize it was gone, I'd eaten it so fast! I said yes to another serving ... then to another ... I'd never tasted anything like it, Hobbie! I was so full, but still I wanted more!" Wes's eyes teared up at the memory.

"But at last it was gone ... and then more food came out! Mynock, gornt, falaas ... vegetables covered in cheese and crumbs and butter ... everything roasted to a turn, baked to crispy perfection ... it was glorious! I'd never seen such a sublime feed, Hobs! It's everything I'd never dreamed of ... Ohmygod Hobbie, I would eat at the woman's table ... over getting laid ... any day!"

Hobbie's mouth was salivating, thinking the last thing he'd eaten was some rotted dairyfood and foodboard — shelf-stable products available at every refilling station, and that was probably 10 hours or so ago. But he knew his roommate's libido, and wondered how a meal could rival sex? "It must've been good for you to say that!"

"Hobbie, it was more than good, better than great! I was bursting, it was so good! The carbos I'd eaten were swelling in my gut, but I had to keep eating ... it would have been a crime to let any plate pass ... heck, it would have been a sin to leave a platter anything but empty! I grabbed everything, I must've looked like a starving Hutt ..."

Hobbie imagined Wes in such a dining situation. He'd seen Wes when he'd been really hungry — he'd eat two-fisted, cramming food in his mouth so that it was impossible to chew. In those situations, Wes would try to swallow everything whole, strands and leaves and crumbs dripping and bouncing out of his mouth as he tried vainly to gulp it down his gullet. Both hands would be filled with more food, ready to shove in as soon as a bit of room could be made available in his mouth. It was not a pretty sight, and he wondered how the girl and her family would have reacted to the spectacle.

"So they thought you were a gross boor and kicked you out? Is that why you're whimpering like a sniveling todent??" Hobbie still couldn't imagine food so good that one could forego getting laid.

"No! Hobbie, you won't believe this, her mother ... she was delighted with me! She was encouraging me to eat, eat, eat! Her father, he kept slapping me on the back, telling my date, 'Now this is a real man, eats good!' Hobbie, they loved me, and let me tell you, they called me 'son' and I was calling them 'Mama' and 'Papa'! I would have gotten on my knees and blown them both if they'd have me at their table again!"

"Eeeuw, Wes! Don't be gross!" Hobbie punched his friend to shut him up.

Panting for breath from the stomach punch, Wes kept talking, "... then the pièce de resistance ... a gorgeous, full-blown, stuffed, sweet, cherry filled, cream-topped, moist, luscious, dark-as-sin chocolate—"

"Uh, Wes," Hobbie smacked his lips, "are you describing some virgin sacrifice? Because you're making me horny ..."

It was Wes's turn to punch Hobbie, and he aimed for his friend's chin but missed, due to the tears fogging his view. "No, it was a CAKE, Hobbie ... a cake with so many layers, so much sweet, plump fruit, and it was SO good! I was so full, my esophagus was packed ... but I had to have a slice .. then another ... Hobbie, I finished the whole damned cake! Her mother told me it would serve a dozen normal men ... and she said it as a compliment! Oh, you can't imagine ... I was totally in love ... I was going to bend right over for them, do dishes, anything!"

Hobbie snorted, "I'm surprised at you — you've never been a picky eater, Wes. You're more the lomin-and-fried salted gornt skin type ... Since when were you the champagne and chocolate type?"

Wes covered his face with his hands, "I'm a converted man, Hobbie ... I will leave my lomin-life and convert to her chocolate-ways ..."

Hobbie yawned. "So you're in love and you've decided to become a tubby bitch who can't find his dick under his belly, so you'd never have a problem with the lack of sex. So what, mazeltov, be happy. I'm going to bed!" Hobbie was sorely annoyed at this tale.

But then Wes wailed in a pitch that would have shattered glass if the two men had lived in an outward-facing apartment. He sobbed and heaved, and Hobbie was afraid Wes would vomit all over the room, given his description of how he'd spent his night. He jumped up to find a bucket or trashcan in case of such a mishap, but Wes grabbed at him again.

"No! The blonde ... she was taking me home ... I'd kissed her mother and father goodbye ... they kissed me back ... I got in the speeder ... she didn't say a word. I thanked her over and over for taking me home, for introducing me to her family. I think there were other people there ... I don't remember anyone but her parents, actually.

"When we got back, she let me out, and I thanked her again, and told her I'd love to see her family again ... and ... and ..." Wes's story was interrupted by an uncontrollable and loud bout of sobbing.

Hobbie passed a large towel to his roommate, "For cri-yi Wes, get a hold of yourself! People will think I'm eviscerating you in here!" Wes responded by wailing and moaning into the towel, which did dampen the noise he was making considerably.

Finally, the distraught man sniffed and confessed the rest, "She ... she told me she never wanted to see me again ... that I hadn't said a word to her the whole time at the dinner table ... that it was obvious I was in love with her mother ..." He sniffed quietly. "And you know what, Hobs? I admitted it ... I admitted I was in love with her mother and her mother's cooking ... She told me that she'd even driven me back to the base topless to get my attention, and I'd never even noticed!"

This time, Hobbie started to laugh at the thought of this girl trying to win Wes's attention in vain. How discouraging would that be? Not able to get the attention of the perpetually horniest man on base!

"Don't laugh, jerk!" Wes shoved Hobbie, who fell over sideways, still giggling. "Damnit, Hobs! I'll never have that food again! The carbo strands with that red sauce ... those meats! Oh my gosh, the side dishes, I'm groaning like a gornt, damnit! But that cake ... especially that cake!!! Hobs, I can't live without that cake! But ... but I don't know where she lives! I wasn't paying attention to where the speeder was going to or coming from!!! Argh!!!!!" He grabbed his friend in a frenzy, "I must have that cake again! Hobbie, you have to help me, you go and tell that woman—"

Hobbie had only been punching his friend lightly up to this point, simply to repel him or quiet him, but he decided he needed to get serious here. He stood the babbling, crying Wes up on his feet, took careful aim, and punched him in the balls. Wes doubled over, his eyes bugging out of his face, and he slowly fell over onto the floor where he made squeaky noises for a long while before passing out from the pain.

Hobbie went out and prowled the tapcafs, looking for a blonde who looked distraught. He found several at this time of night. He surmised that Wes's date would not have gone far from the base after she kicked him out into the night, and felt confident with his odds.

Sure enough, as he chatted up one blonde after the other, he heard many tales of woe, but it was a simple enough matter to eliminate the ones drowning themselves from more conventional heartaches. He managed to "console" several and would have spent more time with a few of them, but he was on a mission. And after only a few hours, he found the one he had been seeking.

Ever the suave knight in shining armor — especially after Wes had made serious a faux pas and struck out with the girl — Hobbie had a very enjoyable few hours doing the horizontal tango with the wronged girl. He made a stop at a shop on the way back to his apartment, and whistled loudly as he entered the door ...

And came to with a medicated coldpack on the side of his face. "I'm sorry, Hobbie, but you did punch me in the 'nads — which are still sore, by the way ... but I never would have sucker-punched you if I'd known you'd gone to get the cake from her!"

His head still swimming, Hobbie just stared dumbly at his roommate. His 'nads were feeling a bit sore, too, though for a very different reason ...

"Where did you find her??"

Hobbie mumbled through his injury, "At a tapcaf."

Wes looked confused, "... okay ... um, so you went to the house?"

By now, Hobbie realized what had happened: Wes had attacked him when he'd come back, in retaliation for the beating Hobbie had given Wes a few hours ago. Wes had obviously found the gift Hobbie had bought, and was pumping him for information about the woman he'd fallen in a gastronomy-induced love with last night.

"House?" Hobbie decided to torture his friend, "Um ... no, just a rented speedtel room ..."

"What were you doing there??" Wes was very surprised.

"We ... you know ... what a female and a male might do if mutually attracted to one another on a short-term basis: sucking, licking, fuc—" Hobbie groaned as he sat up and held his head, faking a dizzy spell, and he really enjoyed the shock and confusion on Wes's mien.

"She ... she gave you the cake?" Wes whispered these words, stunned at the information overload Hobbie was presenting him.

Hobbie couldn't hold it in anymore and started guffawing. He laughed so hard that his stomach ached and his head really did start to hurt.

"What's so funny, Hobbie?" Wes now looked perplexed and hurt. "I said I was sorry for socking you—"

"Wes," Hobbie was gasping for breath at this great joke, "I bought the cake!"

"She was willing to sell it to you?" Wes looked hopeful, Perhaps I could buy my meals from her!

"No, you moron!" Hobbie stood up slowly and put the coldpack on his head, "I bought it from the same place she bought it!"

There was a glimmering silence as Hobbie waited for this information to sink into Wes's head. Finally, Wes sunk down onto the chaise, "She bought that cake? But ... but ... I could swear she said she made it—"

"She lied, Wes. Sheesh, women do that all the time, they buy stuff or get someone else to make a great meal, then they take credit for it to woo you." Hobbie sat down next to his friend. "Look, I found the girl you jilted drowning her woes in too much whiskey. I buttered her up and she told me why she was so sad: Her parents were pressuring her to marry, they told her she was getting too old, blah blah blah, the usual malarkey. To get them off her back, she made up some boyfriend who was in the military on tour of duty, that's why they'd never met him. She made up the whole courtship, including a marriage proposal ... finally she couldn't keep putting them off and they said they'd arrange for an expensive dinner, so bring the boy. She meets you, you fit the physical description, she suckers you home. You fall for her mother's skill at the cooker, which was rather perfect, because then she could "break up" with you and blame her mother, which would make her parents leave her alone.

"Trouble is, she kind of started to like you, but she knew she couldn't continue with you — I mean, she'd have to reveal that neither she nor her mother could cook a thing. Since you were so enamoured of the food, there could be no future for you two, see? And she started feeling stood up by you. She hadn't intended for it to get that far, but I guess your boyish good looks and Ewokish charms and Gamorrean demeanor got through to her and she got jealous for real — especially after she stripped for you and all you would do was rave about her mother. She kicks you out without explaining her ruse, you end up crying like a sissy, I get your leftovers, I get the name of the caterer who created the best meal of your life, and you punch my lights out.

"All in all, a better-than-average weekend, wouldn't you say?"

Wes's eyes were opened very wide through the whole explanation, and Hobbie enjoyed the stunned look for a while. But he started getting worried when Wes hadn't blinked for several minutes and moved to the front of him to wave his hand before his friend's face. "Wes, are you—"

Hobbie suffered a headlock and Wes delivering a sloppy, wet kiss. "You found the caterer, oh Hobbie, I love you! I can keep my lomin-life and have this chocolate cake! You're my hero, you saved the day, you're my knight in—"

Hobbie hoped that Wes would eventually forgive him for punching him in the gonads twice in one day ... but if he was going to define his life in terms of a chocolate cake, he wouldn't be needing his testicles too soon, anyway.


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