#chubby!sterek

Double Dip-Derek Hale, Esq.

Teen Wolf | Sterek | 942 words

It’s common knowledge that Derek Hale is a great lawyer. He graduated at the top of his class and has proven himself to be quite the asset in every case he’s been on for the past 10 years. The past ten years had done wonders for his career and even more for his waistline. 

See, Derek Hale, as most Hales are, is a stress eater. When he graduated law school he was thickening around the waist, but his workouts were often and intense enough that he was able to get through so much school with hardly any weight gain. That changed as soon as he joined his family at Hale, Hale, & Hale law firm.

The latenight discovery binges, the never ending deposition studies, hours scouring through books looking for a case they can use as grounds or thinking up ways the prosecutor or defense or whoever was going to throw their way took all his free time away from him. No longer was he able to go to the gym for 4 hours a day. Instead, that time was taken up with work. 

The office assistant, Stiles, always brought food for late nights at the office. Sometimes it was chinese food, other times it was italian or greek, or seafood, or mexican, or anything he could get a lot of really late at night. And Stiles kept it coming. There was never a time the snacks and food table in the office wasn’t full of food. Donuts piled high and candy bars both at room temp and cold out of the freezer. There was a never ending supply of sweet sweet coffee, or on the rare occasion brandy or jack. 

The late nights got to them, and soon Derek was in love with Stiles and Stiles was in love with Derek. They got married, only cementing Stiles’ role in the firm as the office manager. 

As Stiles and Derek’s love grew, Derek’s waistline grew too. 

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He was reclining back in his chair when he felt the button on his shirt (the second one to go, the first having been lost last week during breakfast, and Derek had forgotten about it until this morning, when he had been in too much of a hurry to change) pop off and scatter across the tiled floor.

Of course at that moment, a young, attractive man whom Derek had never seen before, bent down to pick it up,  laughing.  “Excuse me, I believe this button is yours?”

Derek had never wanted to disappear so badly in his life. Of all the times and places and possibilities of meeting his soulmate, this had to be the one. He had imagined it so many different ways – from the sewing classes he had signed up for as a child, as soon as those words appeared on his forearm, to a very heroic accident saving a cat from a tree, ripping his shirt on a branch. He had spent so much of his younger life working out, paying overt attention to his looks, ready at any moment to be ready to meet and impress his soulmate. He never found them. Not during his trim, athletic high school days or during his slightly chubbier college life. By thirty, he had given up all together. Which is when the Universe decided, after a lifetime of heartbreak and the scales now tipping well past 350, that Derek would meet his soulmate.

Derek hadn’t even known there was anyone else left in the office. It was a Friday night after an extremely busy week for the company. There were hours of work for clients left to be done, but he had told his employees to go home. At least they had someone there waiting for them. That was almost three hours ago and Derek was still at his desk, enough take-out containers to feed a family a five open, and nearly all empty on his desk.  He was less stressed now that he was painfully full, too full to think about reports and finances,  and only thinking about the heavy ache from his stomach.

 He vaguely wondered if his soulmate was disappointed in him. He struggled to lean further up in his chair, aware of how his love handles were resting on the arms of his computer chair, trying desperately to think of a logical way to explain why his belly was now freely exposed and resting heavily on his thighs, bottom two buttons gone from his already strained dress shirt.

“I- urrrrrrrrrp.”

The man froze, hand outstretched. Derek felt his face get even more red as he watched his soulmate gaping at him, gaze wandering from Derek’s mortified face to his gut spilling out of shirt. 

“Dude, yes, please tell me you have my words? I told Scott the wait would be worth it! I mean...dude.”

The excitement in his voice was throwing Derek off. Especially as Derek was uncomfortably aware that the man’s gaze had now gone to all the food containers on his desk. He mutely got to his feet with another burp and rolled up his sleeve to show Stiles his words.

“Derek. Not dude. Just...Derek.”

“Stiles,” the guy- Stiles - told him cheerfully before an arm was thrust in front of him, the words I...urrrrrrp scrawled across in Derek’s tidy scrawl. So Stiles had been branded with a burp on his arms because Derek was apparently fated his entire life to become a pig.  “I’m sorry.”

“What! No, I’m not. I mean yeah, I didn’t know that REALLY counted as first words, and was a little mishap in college where I thought you were a beer chugging frat guy.” Stiles was still smiling broadly, eyes sparkling like he had won the lottery. “I’d offer to take you to dinner, but you clearly just ate so...coffee? And tomorrow we can go out?”

Masturbation

“God, you’re getting fat.”

Derek’s breathing heavy, his hand sliding back and forth on his dick, which is partially buried in his fat pad.

His other hand stuffs a raspberry filled doughnut into his mouth, causing jelly to dribble down his chin and onto his turgid, heavy belly and flabby moobs.

“Such a pig.”

Derek struggles to swallow the mouthful of dough and jelly as he continues to stroke himself. His dick is throbbing as the voice on the video teases him.

“Gonna keep eating aren’t you? Gonna get so fucking fat.”

Derek moans as he feels the orgasm building. He grabs another doughnut and scarfs it down, more jelly and flakes of glaze falling onto his naked torso. He’s eaten a dozen and a half already, achingly full, but he still craves more.

“You love it, don’t you? Love the fact that you’re getting fatter!”

Derek’s heart is racing. The orgasm building like heat behind his balls.

“Go on, pig, come for me!”

Derek does, his hips thrusting weakly under the pounds and pounds of blubber he’s piled on in the last few years. Derek groans as he shoots agin and again.

“Nice going, lardpile.”

Derek huffs, out of breath. His hands cradle his engorged belly as his comes down from the high, his fullness starting to really hit.

“Thanks…BUUURRPP…Stiles…” he grunt out.

“Next time, we go for the full two dozen.”