#chubwolf

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.

Derek dropped his gym bag at the door and toed out of his running shoes before coming to stand in front of his boyfriend, looking him over nice and slow. “Uh, whatcha doin’?’” Stiles asked.

“Just looking.”

A lazy grin spread on Stiles’s face and he stretched out his arms. His T-shirt rode up a little more, so the plump little roll of his belly was out in the open. “See anything you like?”

“You could say that.”

The hand not clutching Stiles’s cereal bowl came up to tug at the hem of Derek’s T-shirt, slightly damp from shower water. Derek leaned in and pressed a kiss to his sugary lips.

He trailed kisses from Stiles’s jaw down to his neck, pleased when he tilted his head back and hummed appreciatively. Stiles lifted his bowl out of the way. “Nice to see you too, big guy.”

Derek dropped down onto the couch beside Stiles, but kept his arm wrapped around him, petting his stomach. He lifted the T-shirt above Stiles’s belly button and said, “Keep eating, don’t mind me.”

“Um, okay.” Stiles’s breath was shallow and he shifted down in his seat to give Derek better access. For a second, Derek thought he might get too distracted to eat like Derek told him to, but Stiles picked up the bowl and kept shoving cereal in his mouth once he got used to the sensation of Derek’s fingers.

He tickled lightly at the trail of dark hair that ran from Stiles’s belly button down below his waistband. “I like when you’re all affectionate,” Stiles said.

“Mhmm,” Derek said, totally enraptured by the way Stiles squirmed under his touch, by the way the light coating of pudge on his belly squished in his hands. He needed to feel it against his lips.

Stiles finished up a big slurp of cereal and set the bowl next to him on the other side of the couch. He hummed deep in his throat, stomach muscles tensing underneath his gut. Derek drew back a little to look up at Stiles. Watched him lick milk off his lips, leaning back with his bloated little stomach exposed, looking satisfied. Derek wanted.

“‘S nice,” Stiles said, eyes fluttering shut.

“Mhm, sure is.” Derek couldn’t resist teasing him a little. He patted the side of Stiles’s stomach to feel it jiggle against his palm and smiled at him. “You’re getting a little soft, Stiles.”

“Wh-at, shut up!” Stiles squawked, half-indignant, half-laughing as he shoved at Derek’s shoulders playfully. “I am not!”

“Yeah?” Derek said, gathering up a nice handful of pudge. “What do you call this then?”

“That… I’m… for your information--” Derek kneaded at his lower belly as he spoke, and Stiles’s hips shifted into it in little helpless movements. “Oh. Um.”

“Yes, Stiles?”

“Okay… well, maybe I’ve been overdoing it a little.” Stiles was blushing, but he was still smiling a little and smelled more like contentment and simmering arousal than embarrassment.

“A little,” Derek huffed, poking Stiles’s belly.

Stiles laughed. “Okay, fine! Whatever. It’s all your fault though so you can’t complain.”

“Not complaining.” Derek spun off the couch and onto the floor, kneeling between Stiles’s soft thighs so he was face to face with Stiles’s gut. He took it in both hands, kneading it from the side. “How is this my fault again?”

Stiles was panting now, looking halfway to blissed out just from Derek touching his belly. He was so sensitive, always had been, but the chubbier parts of him seemed to crave touch, now. His thighs, his ass, his love handles, his softening pecs that Derek just knew would get nice and fat if Stiles kept gaining weight like this.

“You. You’re an enabler, is what you are.”

Derek tried to smother a grin. “Oh yeah? Whatever makes you say that?”

“You know exactly why, asshole. Don’t play innocent with me.” Derek rested his forehead on Stiles’s belly and laughed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He said against Stiles’s skin, running his lips and scruffy cheeks over his stomach.

“Oh, god,” Stiles whispered, trembling. Derek placed a kiss right below his bellybutton and his flesh gave under the light pressure of Derek’s mouth. It was fucking incredible.

Stiles gasped. “Wow, that. That feels good.” He grabbed Derek’s hair and pulled a little, urging him just a little closer. Derek licked at his skin, salty and so, so soft. “Oh.”

Derek pulled back just enough to ask, “Yeah?” before diving back in to kiss Stiles’s belly open-mouthed, tongue stroking against his skin.

“Oh, god. Yeah, really good. Like, holy god.”

Overwhelmed at how much Stiles seemed to be enjoying himself, Derek buried his face in Stiles’s fat, kissing him just on the edge of desperate. It was everything he’d dreamed; warm and plush and doughy. He pulled a little mouthful between his lips and sucked on it, laving it with his tongue.

Stiles gripped the leather of the couch and it creaked in his fists. “Fuck.”

“You’re gonna spill your cereal,” Derek said, smug, and more composed than he actually felt.

Stiles, on the other hand, sounded like a total wreck. Derek leaned back in to plant little kisses on his belly while he spoke. “Ah. Well it’s-it’s a good thing we’ve got like... five more boxes thanks to your last shopping trip, enabler.”

“Wow, you’re gonna waste all my hard earned money like that?”

Stiles laughed, breathless. “Hard-earned, my ass, you rich asshole. Mmm. You’re the-the one who’s distracting me from my delicious cereal heaven, anyway. So again, this is a-all your fault.”

Derek leaned back, rocking against his heels as if to get up. “Oh well if that’s how you really feel…”

But Stiles’s fingers latched onto Derek’s hair and neck, pulling them back in with a grip that might have bruised if his skin wasn’t already healing. “Don’t you fucking dare stop. God.”

Derek grinned, reveling in the scent of lust emanating from Stiles, his rapid heartbeat ringing in his ears. He could feel Stiles’s cock under his chin, begging for attention. But Derek wasn’t done yet.

As he touched Stiles’s with his hands and mouth, reverently, wherever he could reach, Derek thought about how drastically his body had changed, even over these last couple of months. How much his appetite had increased and how all the thousands of extra calories sat now on Stiles’s paunchy little starter belly. Derek’s lips tingled at the feeling of it against them, jiggling slightly with all the impatient little movements of Stiles’s hips.

Stiles’s belly groaned and grumbled, full of food and milk. With his face pressed against it, Derek could hear it so clearly and he wondered if Stiles knew how much it affected him. All of this. If he was too distracted to think about it right then, Derek knew he’d figure it out later. But for now, Stiles was damn near writhing beneath him, as much of a mess as Derek was.

“I hope you know this is going to do nothing whatsoever to make me stop getting f-fatter, ah.”

“Fuck.”

Derek shuddered. The thought made him ache to touch himself, but he couldn’t bare to take either of his hands away from Stiles’s skin. He wondered how he lost the upper hand so quickly, or if he ever really had it in the first place. Of course Stiles would figure him out.

But he smiled, breathed in deep the scent of Stiles’s desperation. He said, “And why would I want to do that?”

“I-I guess you wouldn’t, would you?” he said, one hand petting Derek’s hair. “You want me to keep getting fat, don’t you, Derek?”

Derek could hear the smug smirk in Stiles’s voice, infuriating and hot. He growled in the back of his throat, feeling the prickle of claws against his fingertips, aching to come out. But he held back so he could keep caressing the softness of Stiles’s curves.

“Yeah, that’s right. You wanna fatten me up. That’s why you’re always buying me so much food, huh?”

Derek gasped. He lifted his head to look up at Stiles, who looked debauched but thoroughly amused. Derek could feel his eyes bleed electric blue. “Did you ever think that maybe some of that food was for me?”

“Oh, yeah, my bad. You make sure the house is always stocked with my favorite fatty junk foods because you want to eat it. But somehow you never do. Makes sense.”

“Well you’re the one who eats it all. Don’t blame me for this little belly, that’s all you.”

“Yeah, yeah, just admit it, buddy!”

“Admit what?” Derek raised his eyebrows innocently and teased lightly at Stiles’s gut with his teeth.

“You know what. God-dammit that feels-”

“Okay,” Derek said. He stroked his hands down Stiles’s sides, skimming his love handles and coming to settle on Stiles’s meaty thighs. He couldn’t resist leaning his head down to catch the supple inside of one between his lips. It made Stiles gasp and his hips buck up, needy. His eyebrows drew tight together and he looked about ready to lose it for all that he was snarking at Derek just a few seconds ago.

“Stiles.” Derek realized his own voice has gone throaty and thick, his teeth sharp, filling up his mouth. He closed his eyes, tried to calm down and breathed in deep. In a moment he felt them retract, but he still saw through his wolf eyes when he opened them again.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked. It took Derek a moment to respond. He’d almost forgotten what he’d been trying to say, distracted by the hitched breaths Stiles made when Derek grasped at the fat on his thighs and how from this angle the softness around his face looked more like a double chin.  

“You’re right,” Derek said.

Stiles grinned, triumphantly. “Ah-about what, Derek?”

Derek rolled his eyes, annoyed at having to say it. To give voice to the thoughts that had been plaguing him since Stiles started to gain weight. “I want to,” Derek grit out. “I like you fat.”

“Yeah I kind of got that,” Stiles huffed, too breathless to be a laugh. “But I’m not fat yet, dude.”

Awestruck, Derek brought one hand up to frame Stiles’s belly and repeated, “Yet.”

“Ah, shit. You keep encouraging me like this and I will be.”

“Fuck,” Derek whispered. He hid his face in Stiles’s gut, gulping in strained breaths. Almost without thinking about it, Derek’s free hand slid down to touch himself through the flimsy fabric of the sweats he’d changed into after his shower.

Stiles’s fingers dragged through Derek’s hair and he said, “You want to make me fat, don’t you?”

Derek whined, tracing the outline of his dick, feeling too close just from the thought of it. He lifted his face up and looked into Stiles’s eyes. “Yes. I hoped you would. I want...”

Stiles didn’t look smug anymore. He looked like he was barely holding himself together, like he was almost pained by it, but the overwhelming feeling of Stiles’s lust choking the air had Derek surging up half a second before Stiles grabbed his shirt and slurred, “C’mere.”

He kissed Stiles like his lips gave him the air in his lungs. Like they hadn’t kissed since the first time, sloppy and unrestrained. Derek stood up and cradled Stiles’s jaw in both hands, tilting his head against the back of the couch. Stiles whined and pulled Derek down by his ass and the backs of his thighs until he was straddling Stiles’s waist. He pressed himself flush against Stiles’s belly, its softness against his abs, and he started to grind into it in helpless little thrusts.

His human teeth grazed Stiles’s bottom lip and it made him let out a shaky moan. Derek put his mouth to Stiles’s ear and said, “I want to make you fat.”

Stiles moaned again, loud. He was gripping Derek’s muscular thighs and letting out little sounds on almost every breath, noisy like he got when he was close. Derek rocked his ass against Stiles’s dick, his own trapped in the cushion of Stiles’s belly fat. He was close too.

“Can I tell you something?” Stiles whispered, voice low and gravelly against Derek’s temple. “Oh, fuck. I. I’m--”

“Stiles.”

“Ah-I want you to. God, I want. Want you to fatten me up, Derek.”

Derek shuddered and kissed him, filthy wet. That confession was ringing in Derek’s ears; Thoughts of Stiles bigger, fatter were echoing in his mind’s eye. A pulse of heat rushed through him; He came grinding against Stiles’s belly, so suddenly it shocked the air out of his lungs.

And then Derek was slumped against Stiles, pliant and loose, but Stiles was still restless beneath him. He groaned and thrusted up against him, gripping Derek’s ass to move him just where he wanted, and then Stiles was coming too, whispering, “Fuck, fuck, Derek.”

One of Derek’s hands wound up against the side of Stiles’s little potbelly, patting him absently as he shivered through aftershocks. He rubbed his cheek against Stiles’s throat, nuzzling, scenting him.

“Freak,” Stiles said, lovingly.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Oh my god, you loser. What are you, ten? Anyway you’re not allowed to call me a freak. Not when you want me to get fat for you, what the hell, honestly.”

Stiles shifted under his hands like the feeling was still making him crazy, like he could get hard again soon. Derek grinned. “But you want to. So like I said, takes one to know one.”

He rolled his eyes. “Pff, whatever. You’re the one who gave me the idea. You were all, you know,” Stiles flailed his hands, “Into it. It sort of stuck in my head, you know? And one thing led to another… And, okay, maybe I would’ve gotten there myself eventually, because it’s pretty. Wow, awesome. For real. I don’t want you to think I’m not into it, cause I’m like all in. But still. I still say you’re the freakier freak.”

“Okay,” Derek laughed. “You knew? Before?”

“I had my suspicions. Also you should learn to delete your browser history.”

Derek swatted at Stiles’s shoulder lightly. “You went through my browser history?”

“It was an accident!” Stiles yells, laughing.

“Sure it was.”

“It totally was! Sort of. But you get a big fat boyfriend out of it, that’s gotta count for something.”

Derek looked down at his fingers poking at Stiles’s little belly and tried to hide his smile. “I don’t know… Like you said, you’re not really fat yet. I think you’re gonna have to make it up to me.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“Hmm. How about I make you something to eat?”

“Oh my god, seriously? That’s my punishment? Derek. Babe. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Derek grinned at his boyfriend, but something in his expression must’ve read as predatory because Stiles suddenly looked a little wary. “Oh my god what?”

“Nothing. I just hope you’re hungry, Stiles.”

“Pff, is that a challenge? Come on, you know me. I’m always hungry.” Stiles poked his chest. “Bring it on. Do your worst, wolfy.”

Derek couldn't help himself. He kissed Stiles deeply, loving the way his slight softness felt between his thighs and under the palms of his hands. But Stiles pulled away, lips slick and said, “Now come on, chop chop.” He patted Derek’s ass. “I’m not gonna get fat from awesome sex, okay? Actually, maybe I could. We could have all the food sex. Oh my god. This is gonna be awesome-”

Derek kissed him quiet.