#chubby keith

When everything started shutting down due to COVID-19, Keith and Lance made the decision to quarantine together. They were a few days shy of their six months anniversary and so helplessly in love with each other, they weren’t sure they’d survive the pandemic without the other’s touch. But, where Keith was lucky and was able to work from home, Lance was required to help his family at their bakery.

“Try this,” he said to Keith, plopping a blue box down beside his boyfriend one day after work. The words McClain Bakery were written in thick, cursive font across the lid.

When Keith opened the box, he was greeted by the smell of warm vanilla and almonds. A single doughnut was in the center. It looked edible enough but that didn’t stop Keith from raising a brow.

Lance was the bakery’s barista and hardly ever dabbled in baked goods.

“It’s not poisonous, I swear. It’s just, with business extremely slow right now, I figured we should try to mix up the menu,” he explained, sitting across from Keith.

Keith’s gaze slid back to the doughnut. “Vanilla and almond are… mixing it up?”

“This is just one of the many flavors I have in mind. Change doesn’t happen overnight.”

“And it’s edible?”

Lance fixed him with a glare. “Just eat it, ass hat.”

Slowly, but surely, Keith raised the doughnut to his lips and took a small bite. The dryness struck him first however the rich vanilla was enough to make it at least somewhat enjoyable. “This is your first attempt, right?” Lance’s gaze narrowed, making Keith squirm. “I - it’s good, really. Lance, it’s good.”

“But…”

“It’s dry.” Then, hoping to soften the blow, he took another bite. “Not enough that it’s bad. I really like the vanilla.”

That quelled Lance’s anger. He deflated, sinking back in his chair, before leaping up. “I’ll grab you some milk, as long as you want the rest.”

Keith, wanting to keep his boyfriend, eagerly nodded.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Keith continued to taste test for Lance. At first it started as a few times a week but quickly became more frequent. One doughnut turned into two, two turned into three. Keith went from eating half of a doughnut to eating three in one sitting. And the doughnuts, thankfully, got better.

“I’ve come a long way from vanilla and almonds, huh?” Lance asked two months later. He was prideful and Keith couldn’t disagree. He was steadily improving. To the extent that Keith was starting to get cravings for them on days Lance didn’t bring any home.

He leaned against the counter top across from Lance, wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of Lance’s t-shirts. He’d put on a little bit of quarantine weight. Nothing Lance would have noticed and nothing he couldn’t lose once they were allowed out into the world again.

Licking the strawberry frosting off of his fingertips, he agreed, “How many flavors are you thinking of coming up with?”

“I don’t know. Depends on how long quarantine goes on for.”

As much as that answer sent a thrill through Keith, he also felt a pang of worry. He was starting to really like the doughnuts. He couldn’t say so much for his waistline. But he was sure that part of him could just deal with it. It’s not like quarantine would go on forever.

A week or so later and sweatpants were all Keith could fit into and, even then, they were digging into his hips more every day. He had sprouted a double chin and, only after Lance playfully poked at his middle did he notice his potbelly.

He worked five days a week for eight hours a day and the one time he ventured to the gym (which was now opened), he witnessed several people refusing to wear masks. Not to mention all the side glances he received from all the regulars he saw. He had put on fifteen pounds, not sprouted wings.

Halfway through summer, he finally caved and bought new pants. Both jeans and sweats. At that point, Lance was giving him half a dozen doughnuts a day. He’d usually eat them after dinner when they cuddled together watching TV. They weren’t dry anymore.

“As light as these are, they really sit in your stomach, you know,” Keith finally commented one night. He sat back on the sofa, the box of doughnuts empty and discarded. He had adjusted his new sweats so that the waistband was under his growing gut. He hadn’t checked the scale recently but he knew this was more than just fifteen pounds.

Worry sparkled in Lance’s eyes, making Keith want to eat his words. “I don’t have to bring you as many anymore. Maybe just the new flavors - or improvements,” he said.

Keith shifted. Despite how stuffed he was, he still felt his whole body wobble from the movement. “No, it isn’t that. I like the doughnuts. It’s just…” Was now the time to point the very obvious fact out to Lance that he had put on quarantine weight?

“They can be really filling,” Lance said, before he could come to a decision. Reaching out, he ran a soothing hand across Keith’s middle. He had to bite his tongue to stop the moan that threatened to pass his lips. “Does this help?”

He silently nodded, his face puffy and red from both the doughnuts and Lance.

When Keith discovered Lance’s feeding kink, he learned how to push his own boundaries. It used to be that whatever turned Lance on eventually turned Keith on. Like, how the very idea of his tummy poking out from the bottom of his shirt used to humiliate him while Lance couldn’t get enough of it. Now it turned him on too. The idea of putting on weight grew on him - both literally and figuratively.

So, wanting to get Lance’s attention at the beach was a cakewalk.

Lance was distracted by just about everything. It was the first day of summer and people were out in droves. He loved people watching probably almost as much as he loved Keith.

“Lance, can I get a little help,” he finally said. He had been eating all day, stuffing himself on whatever boardwalk food peaked his interest. He wasn’t full, yet, but he was laying down and resting. His stomach swollen, the skin pulled tight and flushed pink from how much he’d gorged himself.

His boyfriend turned to him, though whatever he was about to say vanished when his eyes landed on Keith.

Keith felt a swooping in his lower belly at how Lance’s gaze raked over his body.

Holding out the bottle of sunscreen, he asked, “Mind putting some on me. I’m getting a little burned.”

A total lie. He knew it, Lance knew it, but that didn’t stop either of them from pretending it wasn’t true.

Taking the bottle from Keith’s hands, Lance only fumbled twice before finally squeezing some of the sunblock on his hands. For a moment, he stared at Keith as if he were a puzzle. Like rubbing his belly was something entirely new.

Gritting his teeth, he laid his hands on Keith’s middle. He was extremely tense, his movements jerky and his touch ghosting across his skin. Rolling his eyes, Keith pointed out, “I’m going to fry if you keep this up.”

Lance shot him a dangerous look, making the corner of Keith’s lips twitch up into a grin.

“Fine, if you can do it so much better than me,” Lance started, only to trail off.

Oh, so he wants a show, Keith thought. Pressing his hands down onto the beach towel, he sat up with a little bit of effort. Okay, maybe he wasn’t a little bit hungry - maybe he was on the verge of being too stuffed to move. He could feel all the food he’d eaten today sloshing around in his gut as he squirmed into a sitting position.

He knew he’d put on weight but he looked and felt like a blimp right now.

“Keith?” Lance’s voice was soft. There was a hint of worry in his tone.

Keith shook his head. Holding out one hand, he said, “Give me the sunblock.”

Lance did as he was told, transferring the sunblock from his hands to Keith’s.

He took his time rubbing his hands together, making sure the sunblock was evenly distributed between his two hands, before rubbing his stomach. God, this actually felt great. He swirled his fingertips in tiny circles, messaging the sunblock in and easing the pain in his stomach. He quietly stifled a burp behind his arm and then another. All the while his hands were working down, grasping at his rolls, pinching his love handles that were growing every day.

He didn’t forget for one second that Lance’s eyes were on him the entire time. However, he hadn’t expected Lance to reach out and run his hands along his sides, working the sunblock into his skin as if it were moisturizer.

Even though the beach was packed - there was no way someone hadn’t noticed them - Keith found himself leaning back on both his forearms. His breathing was deep and, occasionally, on the verge of wheezing.

He looked huge from this angle.

“Fuck, Keith,” Lance’s voice was husky, “you’re such a fatass. Can’t even take care of yourself anyone.”

It was only supposed to be a summer fling.

With Hunk visiting family, Pidge taking summer classes, Shiro away for business, and Allura traveling across Europe with her mysterious new boyfriend, Lance and Keith were left alone for three whole months.

They promised not to kill each other. They even signed a contract Pidge had written up for them. Lance swore he’d find new friends, Keith muttered about he’d spend summer by himself. They parted ways with no plans on seeing each other until everyone else came back to town.

Then Lance got drunk.

He called his sister, thinking she’d help him. Instead, she relentlessly teased him over the phone before telling him to walk the three miles home in the rain. So, he did the only other thing he could think of. He called Keith.

Keith showed up. He bought him a shit ton of McDonald’s to sober him up. And then he did something surprising.

He brought Lance back to his place.

They watched late night reruns of a ghost hunting show. Both of them bickered over the low drone of the TV. Lance made stupid jokes, Keith laughed at how drunk Lance was while shoveling fries in his face. Something about Keith mindlessly eating made Lance tease him about getting fat. The next thing he knew, Keith had eaten more McDonlad’s than him and then they were kissing.

They were kissing and kissing and kissing then they were more than kissing. Keith tasted like fries and his stomach was puffy from all the junk he’d eaten. Lance touched him there, running his fingers across his tight middle, making him moan.

If either of them thought Lance soothing his belly before going down on him was weird, neither of them did anything to stop it.

The next morning, Lance expected things to be weird. The way Keith looked at him from the bedroom doorway suggested he felt the same way. But then Lance suggested breakfast and they amicably parted ways before noon.

No matter how hard he tried to forget, he couldn’t. Keith stuffed and whiny below him was burned into his memory, making it impossible to think of much else.

When he purposely got drunk the next weekend, Keith was the first one he called. This time they got Taco Bell. Lance put on an old Disney movie, though neither of them were paying any attention. The air between them was so charged that it threatened to spark.

That night, Lance hardly touched the Taco Bell. Keith, meanwhile, was so stuffed he couldn’t move. Panting, sweating, so bloated he couldn’t suck it in.

After that, Lance didn’t only call him when he was drunk. Something he was the one getting called. Sprawled out naked, completely blissed out of their minds, they decided to keep it casual.

Casual turned from a few nights a week into almost every night.

Keith grew out of his pants. Lance, ever the pleaser, started hand feeding him. Keith had gained ten pounds - no, fifteen. The pounds clung to him, softening all his sharp edges. Lance couldn’t hide the pride he felt whenever Keith would stuff himself when they were out at a restaurant.

By the time their friends rolled back into town, they knew they couldn’t go back to the way things were. Not just because Keith was twenty pounds heavier by then but because Lance was in love.

They deserved every ounce of ribbing their friends handed them.

Hunk poked at Keith’s stomach. Keith promptly slapped it away. “Awe, look at you. Fat and happy.”

“I am not fat,” Keith said at the same moment Lance said, “Chubby at most, Hunk.”

It wasn’t until later, when they were alone, that Lance grabbed Keith’s belly in his hands and squeezed it. “Do you want to get fat? I mean, I get we’ve been getting off to it all summer but it’s your body.”

Keith contemplated that for a moment. “I want to see where this goes.”

Keith crammed another bite of his burger in his mouth. He sat back, leaning against a tree, as all of today’s indulgence finally caught up to him.

Grabbing a fistful of fries, he brought them to his lips and ate them one by one. Their savory taste lingered on his tongue, each fry coated in herbed aioli and bacon that sat heavy in his gut.

He sat on the picnic blanket beside Shiro, the two of them catching up after a few months apart. It wasn’t until they’d finished their most recent beers (Shiro’s second and Keith’s third) that they fell into this lull. The silence allowed Keith to mindlessly focus on the dishes Lance had brought over to them, claiming he didn’t want to bring any leftovers home.

“You know, Keith, if you keep this up...” Shiro started. Keith spared him a glance out of the corner of his eye and noticed the sheepish smile on his best friend’s face. He knew where this was going.

“Well it’s too late, I’m already fat,” Keith said, gesturing to his stomach, stuffed with burgers, fries, beers, ice cream sandwiches, and whatever else Lance had placed in front of him over the course of the day. It hung over the waist of his jeans, resting on his chubby thighs, swollen and warm. 

That was a relief to Shiro, as if he had to be the one to break the news to Keith that had put on weight since leaving Blade. A lot of weight.

“You know, you look happy,” Shiro observed, a little smugly. “You and Lance.”

Keith spared the former Red Paladin a glance who was currently laughing at something Hunk had said, completely oblivious to Keith’s watchful eye.

Things had steadily developed between the two of them since the end of the war but nothing drastic had happened. Yet. Keith knew it was only a matter of time. He could spot it in Lance’s blue eyes, the way he smiled, how he’d invite him over for dinner night after night, loading up his plate with meal after meal in hopes that he’d stay.