#chubby!lydia

Even though Allison keeps up with her exercise while Lydia lazes around, she still gets a little bit of pudge on her belly, and the gap between her thighs closes, and one day Lydia watches Allison poking and pinching her extra inches and flushes so much she can feel it burning her cheeks. She tells Allison it’s okay, she does this every year, and they can work it off later. 

Inwardly, Allison’s like, “Hmm,” and when she can be more subtle about it, she eyes the way Lydia’s belly’s already rounded out a little, the way her hips and ass stretch at her sundress, easily a few pounds ahead of Allison. 

She can’t stop thinking about it.

In this lifestyle, Lydia is lazy and indulgent like a housecat, taking naps in the sun and grazing all day long, and it’s easy for Allison to push her a little bit, insist that they get specific treats and meals she knows are Lydia’s favorites. Allison watches Lydia blow up with rapt attention. 

She regains every pound sooner than ever, and before she knows it, she’s starting to outgrow the ‘fat clothes’ she keeps at the house for exactly this reason. They have to go shopping when Lydia starts complaining about the waistband of her shorts digging into her hips, but privately, Allison thinks they look better like this. She has love handles, an ass that creeps out the bottom of her short shorts. 

The date they were supposed to start getting back into shape comes and goes. Allison doesn’t say anything, and neither does Lydia until a few days later. She sounds reluctant, whining about how much effort it's going to be to get back to her old size and how much she hates having to do this every year and why can’t it just be like this all the time?

So Allison asks why it can’t be. She doesn’t have to lose the weight. Lydia has this half-formed idea that she should, that it’s what you do and she’s got to maintain appearances, but it sounds hollow even to her. 

The idea of having this all the time makes her shiver with excitement: no restraint, no calorie counting, no exhausting early morning runs, just the exhilarating freedom of being able to eat whatever she wants whenever she wants. It sounds intoxicating. She agrees to try it. 

The following weeks pass by in a haze of gluttony, and Lydia’s enthusiasm for food doubles when she makes up her mind to completely give into it. She gains more weight than she even though was possible, but the yo-yo dieting over the years made it incredibly easy for her to regain and then some. 

Meanwhile Allison is constantly on edge looking at how plump Lydia’s gotten, the bright pink stretch marks on her round potbelly, the way her boobs pouch out of her bras and bikini tops, the rolls on her back. Allison’s own gain is much more modest, barely over a normal holiday gain, but Lydia’s gain easily doubles hers, at least. 

The transition to Allison feeding Lydia is easier than Allison would have thought it would be. Lydia opens her mouth for a bite of food Allison offers once and then it becomes a thing they do. Allison’s not sure if she’s the only one who feels like she could drown in the sexual tension, but if Lydia feels it she doesn’t let on. 

She eats whatever Allison gives her though, even when she’s full, or maybe especially when she’s full. She’s greedier then, Allison’s noticed. Like she doesn’t want to stop. 

Late one night, they’re eating leftovers sprawled on the couch, Allison tucked close next to Lydia, and Allison’s feeding her bites of seafood pasta. She gets fed up with the angle, arm tired from twisting, so without thinking about it too much, he straddles Lydia’s waist, sits in her lap, perched on those pudgy thighs, and holds a heaping, cheesy forkful to her lips.

Lydia gasps, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before she darts in eagerly for the bite. Allison’s heart feels like it’s beating out of her chest, but it’s easy to feed her like this, easy to slide forward slowly so she has Lydia’s belly between her legs, pressed against her. Easy to kiss the taste from her lips. Easy to feed her the whole bowl in between kisses, in between grinding against her belly with all the pent-up desperation she’s felt all summer long. 

So it was with trepidation that Allison agreed to help Lydia pick out an outfit for the gala she was invited to that evening, knowing full well that she’d likely have to watch Lydia undress and she’d get to see what effect this past month’s overindulgence has had on her.

Honestly, Allison was lucky banshees didn’t have the same set of extrasensory abilities that werewolves did. Scott could always tell when he was getting her worked up. Sure, Lydia was pretty observant, but Allison could probably still keep her from noticing. She hoped.

Completely unaware of Allison’s inner turmoil, Lydia dragged her fingertips along each clothes hanger in her closet, humming in concentration. Finally, she swept the hangers to the side and plucked out a black pencil skirt. She pursed her lips and ran her fingers over the material, turned towards Allison, and held it up against herself. “Well?”

“Hmm,” Allison said, trying not to think about what it would look like on Lydia’s new curves, “It’s not black tie?”

“Semi-formal”

“I like it. That skirt looks good on you.”

Lydia preened, and spun around to face the closet again. “But what to pair with it…”

“What about that new shirt? The cream one?”

“Ooh, I like the way you think. See? You have a good eye, I don’t know why you tried to convince me I don’t need your advice.”

Allison rolled her eyes, fondly. “Because you don’t.”

“True,” Lydia said with a smile, before going to get the shirt out of her closet. It was a flouncy, silky crop top that would no doubt look gorgeous on her.

She brought it back with the skirt and carefully laid both of them on the bed, at Allison’s feet, and without missing a beat, pulled her stretchy floral skater dress over her head. Allison grit her teeth and glanced away, trying to offer her friend a little privacy, but she couldn’t help but catch, in the corner of her eye, the way Lydia jiggled as she moved.

Lydia picked up the skirt next, unclipped it from the hanger, and stepped into it one foot at a time before dragging it up her legs. She let out a high-pitched little grunt and Allison made the mistake of looking at her. The skirt was stuck around Lydia’s thighs, right before the broader flare of her hips, and she was tugging up the sides one at a time, inch by inch, a look of strain on her face. Each tug sent a wave of jiggles that spanned across every bit of chubby flesh Allison could see.

Allison’s face grew hot and she held her breath watching, while Lydia concentrated on forcing the material over her newly fattened body. She made it as high as her hips before she had to suck in and squeeze her fat lower belly past the waistband. It felt like it took eons, but finally she had the skirt in place at her waist, and Lydia let out a labored breath, making her belly pooch out naturally.

There was no way she was getting that zippered, no way. But Lydia didn’t seem deterred. Her hands went behind her to tug the two sides of the skirt closed. She had to suck in again and Allison could see how much she was struggling. Lydia made several valiant attempts before she gave up, breathing heavily.

She walked over to stand next to Allison and turned around. “Allison? Could you zip me?”

“Of course.” Allison was proud of how steady and normal her voice sounded when she was already wet just from watching. She tugged the two sides together as much as she could, and when Lydia sucked in again, they barely touched. “Hold it like that.”

Lydia’s hands came back around and clasped the sides, shaking a little with the effort of holding them. With one hand, Allison attempted to close the space between the gaping zipper, and with the other, pulled the zipper up as much as it would go. It was a long time until it reached the top, but eventually she got it closed. “There,” Allison said, relieved.

And then she watched as Lydia let out the breath she’d been holding, and even from the back she could see her swell, little rolls on the sides of her waist made more prominent by how tight the waistband was.

She turned around, and swiftly kissed Allison on the cheek. “Thanks! Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Allison’s heart fluttered and she was mortified and turned on all at once. She trained her eyes away and felt her face burn, until Lydia snapped pudgy fingers in her face and said, “Well?”

She had no choice but to take in the sight of Lydia Martin, thankfully fully clothed, but the light material of the shirt did nothing whatsoever to hide the bulge of her belly above the skirt, and the skirt. It was so tight it clung to every curve, every roll; it fit her like a second skin. Allison could see the outline of her belly and her love handles and it had apparently completely missed the memo about black being slimming.

Allison was drooling, she knew it, and the only thing she was capable of doing was giving Lydia an awkward thumbs up and a smile. But the thing looked like it was about ready to burst, and Allison couldn’t let her wear that, could she?

Apparently undeterred by Allison’s weirdness, Lydia turned to stand in front of her full-length mirror to fluff her perfect red curls and purse her lips at her reflection. “So what do you think, hair up or down,” she said, pulling her hair up to mimic an updo. With her arms raised, the shirt pulled up to show a little sliver of belly, decorated with little pink stretch marks.

Allison shut her eyes to try and clear her head. “Um, aren’t you gonna pick some more options?”

“No, I think this one’s perfect. Why?”

“I mean. Don’t you think that’s a little…”

Lydia spun around on her heel and put her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed and it would never cease to amaze Allison how terrifying someone so dainty could be. “What,” Lydia said.

Allison winced. “Tight?”

Lydia huffed, indignantly. “If i wanted your opinion I would’ve asked for it.” She glanced down judgmentally at Allison’s lazy day sweats and t-shirt combo. Whatever, she had a thesis to write; she didn’t have time for looking cute.

Allison rolled her eyes. “You did ask for it. And that’s not what I meant, and you know it. You look… great, Lydia.” Better than great, in fact. “I’m just–”

Lydia strode back over to her closet and bent over a little, to look at her shoes. Allison tried hard not to be too distracted by the fabric pulling tight against her full, plump ass. “Allison. Just because I’m fat doesn’t mean I can’t wear tight outfits anymore. I wouldn’t think that you of all people would understand–”

“That’s not what I–”

“I’ll dress however I damn well please, and–”

As Lydia bent over further, a loud ripping sound interrupted her. Allison gaped as she watched the skirt tear from the little vee of the back split up to her ass.

“Oh,” Lydia said. Allison was fighting with herself not to squirm, but she was absolutely overcome with lust. She could barely breathe, or think. Her hands clutched at the comforter, and Lydia turned back around, nonchalant but for the deep flush on her chubby cheeks. “I guess maybe it was a little tight.”

Lydia faced her ass to the mirror and looked over her shoulder to take in the damage. She pouted, toying with the ripped edges of fabric. “Damn. That’s the second one this month.”

Allison squeezed her thighs together, hoping, praying, she didn’t look as wrecked as she felt.

Lydia sighed and stripped out of the shirt, fitting it carefully on the hanger before putting it back in the closet. She reached around her back, and just a little nudge of the zipper had it flying open, body blowing up to fill the new space.

It was nearly as tortuous watching Lydia try to wriggle out of the skirt as it was watching her cram herself into it. The fabric was plastered to her skin, and she was jiggling uncontrollably while she inched it down.

Allison distracted herself by taking a peek in Lydia’s closet. She took her sweet time, drowning out the sounds of Lydia’s struggle with the clack of hangers. Her eyes caught on something bright cherry red. She hadn’t even been looking for something, not really. But she picked up this dress and held it in her hands.

It was a beautiful, lacy little cocktail dress with tiny beading that made it shimmer in the light.

“Good choice,” Lydia said, from right beside her.

Allison didn’t startle but it was a near thing. She handed over the dress and Lydia grinned, looking perfect with her slightly messy hair and blush pink matching lingerie, little red marks on her skin from the waistband and stitching in the skirt.

She unzipped the dress and stepped into it, and Allison held her breath. It slid on much easier than the skirt had, not that that said much, because it still took a few tugs to get it all the way up, and a few more to get Lydia’s plush arms all the way into the lace sleeves.

Allison zipped her up without waiting to be asked. Her fingers buzzed as they brushed the skin from Lydia’s lower back all the way up to her neck. It didn’t go up easy, not even with Lydia sucking in, but it was definitely an improvement. Soon enough she was all zipped up and she let out her breath. Some of the fabric puckered in the back when she did, just slightly strained, but it held.

“All right, how does this one look?”

Lydia turned around and backed up a couple of steps, spreading her arms and dropping one hip. Allison’s mouth ran dry.

“You look. Incredible,” Allison said, breathlessly.

The dress fit her every curve. It was tight, but not as ridiculously tight as the skirt. She looked perfect and soft and radiant. And Allison may have also found a little too much enjoyment from the fact that she could see the shadow of Lydia’s belly button and the hang of her belly more easily in the lighter color

“Not gonna burst at the seams I hope?” Lydia asked, and Allison laughed, uncomfortably, still more than slightly turned on.

“I don’t think so?”

“All right, I’m gonna put some makeup on. Thanks for your help, Ally.” Lydia blew her a kiss and made her way to the bathroom and Allison fled to the safety of the living room.

An hour later, Allison sat on her laptop, trying to distract herself from the abject humiliation of the evening, but her brain was too fried to really make any progress on her thesis. She was curled up watching The Powerpuff Girls and eating Cheetos when Lydia emerged from her room, done up to the nines with a braided updo, matte red lips, and nude pumps. She was the hottest thing Allison had ever seen.

She froze, handful of puffy cheese snacks on their way to her gaping mouth and stared for probably too long before she coughed awkwardly and said, “Wow.”

“I know, right? See you later, sweetie. Don’t work too hard.”

Lydia blew her a kiss, picked up a jacket and her purse, and disappeared out the door in a flurry of sparkles and expensive perfume. Allison sighed, deeply, slouching more on the couch. She stuffed her mouth full of Cheetos.