#toohah

- by @zandaxesfox​

The eve of Memorial Day had come. Peter lay idly on his sofa, with what had been a full plate of pancakes balancing on the mountain that was supposedly a stomach. With only a pair of pajama shorts stretching to cover the enlarged hips and ass that had seen continual growth of the last year, he lifted his fork to his lips, taking in the last fragments of chocolate syrup covered pancake.  

Slowly he licked his lips, taking every last crumb. First the top lip, and then the bottom, slower and more focused as he found a dribble of syrup at the corner of his lips. Lazily, Peter picked up his plate off his gut before he rolled over to sit up. He set down the plate and picked up his phone and began scrolling through the group messages.  

“Make sure you wear informal clothing,” Stiles had typed. There had been no messages since then.  

 Peter slowly got up, walking through his hallway towards the white porch. In the hallway, many images taken of the last year littered the hallway, from meetings and deals with bigger companies, and a few with the mergers and conquests of the smaller ones. Getting toward the end of the corridor, he caught the shirtless reflection in a picture from about 11 months ago. Slowly, he looked at the old him. Much slimmer than he was now, his hands curved over the dome of his stomach, and a grin curved up his face. Tracing the stretch marks on his stomach, he pressed the heavy mound, feeling the pressure of his full stomach and the softness that encased it, fighting each other. Peter had taken a liking to his growing size. It had become a mirror of his success of his work: Bigger girth, bigger victories; higher numbers on the scale, higher numbers in his pocket. Last year, this would have been ridiculous to him, he had addled Derek amongst other for their growing bodies. 

 Tsk... 

Derek. Peter thought to himself, his eyes glowering into a few pictures, reflecting on the glass back at him. If girth meant success, the Derek was his only hurdle. This was not a hurdle of money and success, this was nothing more than familial jealously, between two stomachs. Though, there was always a way to fix that. 

Stepping into the kitchen, Peter dropped the plate in the sink, before opening the fridge, pulling out a carton of chocolate milkshake, popping the cap, and letting it drain into him. His stomach growled before he looked at the clock, seeing that he would need to get on his way for the day. Well..he didn't need to. Everything for this week had been sorted out. He just needed to make good use of the happiness supervisor.  

Slowly he made his way upstairs, his stomach folding with each leg rise, and releasing as he pushes to the next step. Getting to the top step, he turns down the quiet, brown lacquered corridor. That would be something he would have to change at some point. He may as well live on the couch or at his office. Spending some green to remove this high level of bland would be a wise idea.

Making his way into his bedroom, he was meant to go straight to the wardrobe and grab one of the many suits inside of it. Instead, he went to his bed, spying an unfinished family sized chocolate. He began picking it part with far more obsession and gluttony than he would if he could be seen by anyone else. This was his home, and he was free to gorge as he should. As he was well deserved on this freedom.

After a moment, his tongue returned to his lips, consuming any fragments left. Slowly, rising and then walking towards the wardrobe, opening the doors, to find...only two suits there. Everything else was at the laundry. The maid that Peter had been hiring was definitely not as efficient as he was hoping. 

Picking up one pair of trousers, he slipped them up his legs. Tight, but okay. Then the trousers met his ass. No longer going any higher, all they did was bounce and jiggle his ass. Assurance of size was nice, but it wasn't exactly practical. 

The second pair thankfully fit. For the most part. They were cutting into him painfully. Definitely smaller than what he needed. But, there was no way he was going to wear anything else to work. 

The shirt wasn't exactly perfect either. His neck didn't allow for the top buttons to be buttoned up for a tie, and the buttons would probably not last the day. But the jacket can hide that issue. 

Peter pulled his jacked around his stomach, to cover the dangerously tight buttons. That should of fit. 

Apparently not... 

Only one button clung on. Peter smirked, thinking it just showed off his prowess. 

Taking his time to clamber into his new car, Peter began to let the pride of his success set in once more. This was his new car, something he had bought with his growing pockets. He grinned as he turned the ignition. The car's large V8 fired up, growling as loudly as if it were a predator preparing to attack. With the new car roaring, he began to make his way to take advantage of work privileges and vast food budget—he was going to work for a productive day. Maybe there was some form he could fill in to justify this trip...He would have to think of that on his way. Something simple would do it. 

Traffic was slow. Far slower than he was hoping for. Sitting in traffic, the droning of all the cars started getting into his head. 

Just start moving. 

Get going. 

Now 

I do not have the time. 

Go now! 

Peter's mind curled into rage. Drive forward an inch. Get cut off by an ass of a driver. Very little can enrage him like this was. His fingers clawed at the steering wheel they clenched. Scratching into the leather, Peter's soft fingers began to leave marks behind. 

Time began to tick on, and after an hour of slow, agonizing traffic things began to pick up. The road was slowly becoming less of a cage. After a full hour of driving, the deep red car pulled around the corner and into the car park. Soon enough, Peter had found an issue. There was no sight of Stiles's car. Peter shuffled, turning his bulk to try and reach his pocket and retrieve his phone. Scrolling through the contacts, Peter clicked on Stiles, and began to tap away. 

“Just got to work, where is everyone? I came in to work to fill out some forms, and was hoping you would be able to provide your services. It’s your job, is it not, to keep everyone happy, by providing whatever is needed?” 

“Peter, it's the day before Memorial Day, it was mentioned that there won't be many if anyone here.” 

“...”  

“What do you want, Peter?” 

 *** 

- by @chubby-derek-and-friends & @zandaxesfox

Derek cautiously tugged his shirt down and gave a nervous look at himself in the mirror. Regretfully, despite having come in to measure him and Isaac nearly a week before, the tailor had yet to appear with an updated wardrobe, and he could drastically use that update tonight. Tonight, being the standing dinner he had with Peter every Friday.

"Maybe he won't notice," Derek muttered to himself as his eyes roamed over his newly arising curves. The buttons were even more taut then then had been last week, and his ribbed undershirt definitely revealed itself in the football-shaped gaps that appeared when he sat down. Derek couldn’t help running a finger over the overtaxed buttons, feeling a slight thrill, before returning to his focus on getting ready. Maybe Peter wouldn’t say anything? Derek snorted as he quickly straightened his tie to hide the puckering fabric. "Yeah, right." He pulled on his jacket and headed out the door.

Upon arriving at the steakhouse, Derek was greeted by the hostess who guided him to their usual table. Number 12, situated between the kitchen and the fireplace. When he got there and thanked the hostess with a charming smile, he saw a distinctly softer Peter having found his way through most of what had been an appetizer plate. Derek took in the rounded face and protruding belly his uncle had grown, thinking about the bills he had reviewed for the company credit cards, and suddenly knew exactly where all those funds were going. At least if Peter decided to be an ass, Derek had his own ammunition.

Derek began to seat himself, but Peter reached a hand across to shake, making Derek bow over the table awkwardly. He could feel the way the snug shirt pulled at his stomach and knew his uncle could see it too when he smirked.

"Ah, Derek, I see you are definitely making use of our Happiness Producer?”

Withdrawing his hand, Derek slid down into his seat, and quickly spread his napkin over his lap.

"At least as much use as you are of your expense accounts," he replied, his smile stiff. "Maybe Stiles should be focusing more on you."

Peter frowned. “Are you spying on me, nephew? He asked.

Derek’s smile relaxed slightly. “Of course not, Peter. But I do review the expense accounts when I’m notified by accounting of…unusual activity on our CFO’s card.

Derek leaned forward and stabbed the last cheese-stuffed mushroom from the appetizer plate with a fork before Peter could, popping it into his mouth with satisfaction.

Peter raised his eyebrows. “I see. And are you going to chastise me for my spending?”

Derek shook his head and swallowed the delicious mouthful. “A couple burgers and a few buckets of fried chicken are hardly bank-breaking,” Derek said, “though I do think you should let Stiles do more menu-planning for you if that’s what you’re been eating recently.

Peter leaned back and resumed his normal Cheshire grin. "Oh, he takes care of me just fine," Peter teased, causing Derek to frown.

"Peter, I swear, if you are being inappropriate with an employee..."

"Relax, dear nephew, relax," Peter interrupted, "I am doing no such thing. Besides, I don't believe our dear Stiles would put up with any such treatment. Do you?"

Derek furrowed his brow, recalling the way Stile had rebuked Jackson outside his office earlier that week. None of them had known that Derek had come back in late to review some paperwork for the latest merger, but Derek had been impressed with how easily Stiles had stood up to Jackson's bullying. He very much doubted that Stiles would accept the same from Peter either. At least not unless it were reciprocated.

"Hmm." Derek answered non-commitally.

Changing the subject to the acquisition of a small chain of corner stores, Derek did his best to keep the idea of Peter and Stiles out of his mind. The merger seemed to distract Peter well enough. Although, it was small, and had little to do with their main enterprise, the extra support of a small business could relieve some pressure from the economic stresses the company was handling, if all went well. And if there was one thing Peter loved to talk about more than his...extra-curricular activities, it was money.

Having been coming to this restaurant weekly for several years, the staff had Derek and Peter's orders memorized. Or at least Derek thought they did, until the waiter arrived with two rather obscenely-large steaks, each having its own caesar salad and fully-loaded baked potato.

"Oh, I don't think this is mine," Derek said as they placed the slab of meat in front of him. His usual dinner was much more demure in portion size.

"Relax, dear nephew, I updated your order," Peter said, already cutting into his own steak. "I figured with your appetite, you would need a little bit more to be satisfied."

Derek frowned, but cut into the steak anyways, finding it cooked perfectly. His stomach growled as he smelled the delicious food, and he decided that this time he wouldn't try to fight Peter.

Peter began talking in short bites, between bites of food. "We need to invest a...small amount of...funds into the head store..." He barely seemed to be taking time to breathe as he shoveled steak and potato into his mouth, bloating up his cheeks.

Derek watched the older man with something between shock and fascination. He continued to eat his own food at a decidedly slower rate, Peter's antics having enthralled him.

"The larger...return we will get...from the growth of the...flagship store will..."

Derek could hardly pay attention to what Peter was saying, transfixed by the way Peter demolished the food in front of him. Derek quickly shook his head and tried to focus on his own delicious steak, the juicy tender meat practically melting on his tongue and the buttery baked potato providing a welcome contrast.

Derek nodded occasionally, trying to keep himself from staring, but he couldn't help glancing up between his own mouthfuls to watch Peter's display. Peter had made his way halfway through what had to be an 18 oz steak and did not seem inclined to slow down, though Derek could almost understand that urge as he ate his own meal. The quality of the food at this steakhouse was never disappointing, matching the quality of food that Stiles always brought in to the office, though at quite a higher price than what Stiles seemed to be able to achieve when he ordered. One day Derek was going to have to ask the man how he managed to get such great deals. Of course, that would require Derek to maybe talk to Stiles outside of their occasional quick brushes. Maybe…maybe Derek could ask Stiles to double his lunch order one day and share with him? Would that be inappropriate? Derek had business lunches all the time but none of his colleagues made him feel quite like Stiles did when he smiled at Derek. That was maybe concerning.

"Derek? Are you even listening?"

Derek blinked, unsure when he had drifted off, but his and Peter’s plates were both empty and his stomach was heavy and full.

"No, I was listening Peter," Derek said, leaning back. His stomach protruded proudly. Peter looked to be in a similar position, his own stomach bloated. Derek closed his eyes for a moment to stop himself from staring as Peter hypnotically rubbed his turgid stomach. Derek definitely felt food-drunk. "Sorry, I got distracted."

Looking for a way to escape, he glanced towards the bathroom. "Just give me a moment, I'll be right back."

Peter rolled his eyes, already grabbing for the dessert menu the waiter had placed on the side of the table. "I do hope that wasn't too much for you, dear nephew."

Derek grunted as he stood up, carefully trying to keep his stomach muscles held in as he made his way quickly to the restroom. His breathing was labored from the heavy meal he had packed into stomach. Once he had made his way into a stall, he allowed himself to breathe out, his gut pushing out proudly. Derek rubbed his hands down the bloated sphere, feeling the slightly soft layer of fat that now covered his midsection, and beneath it, the hard lump of his dinner. Derek couldn't believe he'd eaten so much. And Peter...what had he been thinking? Maybe it was a power game? Peter loved those. Something to show him up in his eating prowess? Establish some sort of masculine dominance? Either way, Derek has successfully met the challenge, though he did feel slightly worse for wear.

At the sound of a soft ping, Derek pulled his phone out from his pants pocket, the fabric tightly resisting, and sat down on the seat with another grunt. He hoped that maybe the message would be something from the office, maybe even an emergency. Anything, really, to get him out of what he was sure would be a torturous dessert spent with Peter. In his haste to unlock his phone, however, Derek dropped the device onto the floor, wincing at the clatter, and bent down to pick it up. He grunted as his stomach was compressed again, his overstuffed belly impeding the motion as he leaned forward to grasp the device. Just as he wrapped his fingers around the plastic case, he heard a series of other noises.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Derek quickly sat back up and moved his had to where he could now feel the relief of tension where three of his shirt buttons had decided to vacate. He stood up in horror and exited the stall to look at himself in the mirror, fingers feeling around the gap. Aside from his ribbed undershirt, which had risen up, there was now a sliver of slightly furred belly which was open to the air.

Derek let his pinky slip under the hem of the shirt. Was he really this big? What was happening to him? Thoughts raced through his mind as he rubbed his bared belly, feeling a tingle with each stroke. What would Stiles say?

A flush from the stall behind him knocked Derek out of his introspection and he realized that he would have to go back out there to deal with Peter. Shit.

***

Peter sat back from the table, sighing as he continued to rub his swollen stomach. The meal had been quite satisfying, even if his nephew hadn't really held up his end of the conversation. Peter tapped the folded dessert menu on the edge of the table as he pondered his nephew's behavior. Derek had seemed...distracted. Peter wasn't sure if he had seen Derek distracted in quite some time. And with the way Derek had responded to Peter's quip about Stiles taking care of him, Peter believed he knew exactly what was keeping his nephew's attention.

Peter felt the contents of his stomach shift slightly and quickly stifled a burp into his fist, finding some relief in the release of pressure, though he still felt well and truly stuffed. He smacked his lips slightly, still able to taste the savory steak and buttery potato on his tongue. Perhaps Derek was right. Maybe he should allow Stiles to do a little bit more meal planning for him, instead of the fast food runs he'd been sending the boy on. Though, a good cheap burger or a pile of fried chicken still satisfied something in him. Maybe there could be something of a compromise...

The waiter chose that moment to approach the table, his eyes widening at the completely empty plates that Peter and Derek had left behind. "I see you gentlemen enjoyed your dinner?" the young man asked.

"Quite," Peter smiled, "though I still believe I could do with something...sweet."

The waiter nodded, smiling, and began to stack the plates to clear them. "Of course, Mr. Hale. Do you need a few minutes to look over the dessert menu, or…”

“Oh, no, I won’t be eating dessert here this evening,” Peter interrupted, “Though I will take a slice of cheesecake and a molten chocolate cake to go. But I doubt they could satisfy my sweet tooth.”

The waiter raised an eyebrow. “I can certainly put those in for you, but is there anything else I can do to help make your meal more to your satisfaction?”

Peter smiled at the young man for a moment, not saying anything. The young man blushed a furious shade of red, but still kept his flirty smile in place.

“Of course, your response has no bearing on my impression of this fine restaurant nor on your tip this evening, but I believe that some company would make this quite a wonderful evening.” Peter stated. He slid his wallet from his pocket and withdrew enough money to cover both the tab and a healthy tip, and slid it and his card under his glass.

The waiter nodded, backing away with the plates. “Well, let me get your desserts ready for you.”

Peter watched the young man walk away, noting how fit and trim he was. It had been some time since Peter had enjoyed the company of another man, but tonight he felt the urge to give into his hedonistic needs.

Another burp burbled up and Peter again stifled it behind his fist, the action returning his thoughts to where they were previously. Derek and his…distraction. It wouldn’t do to let Derek become too distracted. After all, they had a business to run. Maybe he should have a word with Stiles about that. Peter pulled up his phone and quickly tapped out an email to Stiles requesting a meeting with him on Monday. He likely wouldn’t get a reply until the next day at least, but why waste time?

When he looked back, up, Peter was greeted by the site of the waiter returning with two paper bags.

“Your desserts, Mr. Hale,” he said, setting them down.

Peter looked into the bags, finding not two, but three containers. “I think you gave me someone else’s box,” Peter told the waiter.

“Oh, no, that’s definitely all yours,” the waiter said with a wink, “I wanted to make sure you had enough to satisfy you later.”

Peter smiled, noting how the waiter had picked up his card and was sliding it into his pocket. “Ah, wonderful.”

“Will there be anything else?” the waiter asked.

“That’s all,…for now.” Peter said, setting the bags down by his chair.

The waiter smiled and left, leaving Peter to again enjoy the view as he walked away.

***

Derek returned to the table from the bathroom with his hand firmly holding his jacket closed over his stomach.

“Uh, something’s come up, Peter, so I have to…”

“That something wouldn’t have anything to do with the way you’re holding your jacket closed would it?” Peter asked.

Derek blushed.

“Hmmm, yes, I’m not surprised, dear nephew,” Peter chided, “You may want to call Antonio and ask him to add some growing room to your newest order.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed angrily. “Are you spying on me now?” Derek asked.

Peter laughed. “Of course not, Derek. Always so suspicious. I just happened to have called Antonio for a wardrobe update myself and he mentioned coming to see you. Now I can see why.”

Derek still wore an unhappy, if less thunderous expression.

Peter stood up, straightening his jacket. His own belly was bloated and protruding.

“Well, I have already taken care of the check,” Peter said, “And I took the liberty of ordering dessert to go for both of us. I know how much you enjoy their cheesecake.

Derek wanted to protest, but his mouth was slightly watering at the thought of the creamy dessert, so he held back. “Thank you,” he ground out.

Peter smiled pleasantly and leaned down to pick up both bags of food which the waiter had brought out for them, but he stood up quickly when both men heard a ripping noise.

Derek smirked as took a bag from his uncle. “It seems I’m not the only one with a wardrobe malfunction this evening, hmm?”

Peter has slid his hand around to his rear end where his pants now sported a large tear.

- by @chubby-derek-and-friends

- by @zandaxesfox

Slowing working through his notes, Peter pushed through the large pile of documents. Approving this, signing this, the work could be very dull sometimes. Tapping at his keyboard, his stomach began to growl softly, his hunger pangs growing as he continued to tap. Reaching into the drawer on his desk, he picked up a small chocolate, sighing as he did. He couldn't exactly get up and go get food when he needed to complete all this work. He needed to make sure that all of the accounts were in order.

He unwrapped the bar, slowly snapping it and wolfing it down. And alas, his stomach only moaned louder. This wasn't exactly helping him improve his happiness. "God damn, yes," he cheered to himself. He'd make that Stiles do something for him. Yes, let the Happiness Producer produce.

Picking up his phone, he slipped it next to his ear. He pressed the 3 digit code, linking him up to Stiles’s office. "Can you make it up to my room? This is urgent. I have a distinct lack of happiness... No no, I'm not going to explain now, just get your ass here."

Pressing the phone down, he opened a notepad, and began jotting down a small shopping list of small snacks for him. A few of these would definitely make him happy indeed.

Stiles slipped through the door, before being able to say a word, he was interrupted with a "You are going to go and get me this list. I will give you my card, be discreet."

Stiles eyes rolled, "Sir, this is the second time this week, I think I've memorized what food you want. There's no need to..."

"No," Peter spoke sternly, "you will get me this list, otherwise, I will feel quite down. And if I'm down, numbers seem to go wrong. So please, take this list." His hand reached out, holding the card and rather long list. \

Stiles looked at it. It was definitely bigger than the last supposed - happiness trips - he'd been sent on by this financial organizer. He nodded, as he began to turn around and, before he could open the door, he was interrupted once again.

"Make sure you get something substantial for yourself. It'd be suspicious if you didn't."

"I will," spoke Stiles. Regular routine then.

Buy food, grab a nice meal for himself, and sneak the happiness order for the CFO.

Chocolate

Biscuits

Burgers

Fried chicken...

Definitely a bigger order, he thought to himself as he wandered past a McDonald's. He was told to have a meal right. He could grab something here...then something after he's gotten his order picked up. "Could I have a quarter-pounder meal...two, quarter-pounder meals..." He spoke to the cashier, who typed it in with the enthusiasm of a corpse, before asking for his pay. Handing over Peter’s card, he sat waiting for his food to arrive. Stiles started mulling over the order made by Peter, but soon enough the food was ready. Stiles began to question if he should have had a little extra...

Having eaten the food, and completed the order, Stiles returned to the office, carrying a couple of bags of food, some hot, some cold. Knocking on the door before entering, he was greeted by a red-faced Peter.

"Just put the bags down, and the card and go. That will make me happy. Thank you." He gestured to the door, obviously embarrassed, and angered.

Stiles, not wanting to cause any arguments dropped them on the desk, and walked out in silence with the piercing eyes drilling into the back of his head.

- by @sterekchub

Scott was running late, it had taken him several minutes of desperate trying before his car finally sputtered to a start, and then he had hit every red-light and gotten stuck behind a school bus on his way to work. He had no time to grab coffee or breakfast and came tearing into the office twenty minutes late, flustered and panting from having sprinted from his car to his desk. Looking at the stacks of papers on his desk to be sorted and distributed, Scott braced himself for an undoubtedly shitty day.

Setting himself in his chair he noticed there was a cup of – still hot – coffee and two muffins sitting on his desk.  Suddenly, his day seemed so much better.  The little note by the muffins read Enjoy your day! ~Stiles.

Scott really hadn’t thought his job at Hale & Hale could get any better. That was until he met Stiles, the new Happiness Producer.

Being young and fresh out of college, Scott’s resume could have been summarized in a few lines. It was why he had not been hired for any of the strictly-business related positions. Still, Lydia Martin had taken the chance on him and said he could fill another open position. That was how Scott ended up doing the inter-office communications for Hale & Hale. It really meant arranging some meetings and sometimes delivering mail and memos throughout the building. It was a pretty sweet gig. He was still waiting for the catch – good job, great pay, and even, for the most part, amazing coworkers.

Scott got along with mostly everyone, which was good considering his job involved inter-office communications. He definitely had his preferred people, Isaac for one, who seemed to spend a fair amount of his time at Scott’s desk. The Hales were slightly intimidating as always, and Jackson and his assistant could be a bit haughty, but Scott still liked them well enough.

No one could beat Stiles though, who was quickly becoming his newest favorite person in the office. The baked goods he brought in were absolute heaven. Scott thought he knew all the usual places for quick, mediocre breakfast foods. Stiles clearly had some sort of secret, CIA-level contacts because the muffins and donuts and danishes he brought in were addicting. And mysterious. Everyone by now had come to expect the tasty spread for the occasional morning meetings, but at other times, food seemed to appear.

Scott had heard about Stiles’ good-will cookies he gave to Isaac during his interview.  It seemed that was Stiles’s true talent, knowing exactly when people needed small pick-me ups.  When someone had a really long report due, or was working extra hours, when someone was stressed over something in the personal lives, Stiles somehow knew and that person would always find a little treat on their desk. Scott was usually frequenting people’s desks and got a chance to sample around.

His personal favorite, as Stiles has found, was the double chocolate chip muffins, which were currently sitting on Scott’s desk. He told himself he would attempt to savor them, perhaps save one for lunch. He undid the wrapper and pulled the top off the muffin off, saving the best part for last. It was moist and rich. Scott sighed happily and took another bite.

- by @fluffyotters

Time passed quickly and slowly for Theo. Another year at the Offices of Hale & Hale has gone by but it was a different year than the previous ones had been. With the inclusion of their new Happiness Producer, things had certainly changed at the office. Most notably, everyone at the office was much bigger, and even Theo put on some weight, which was very unintentional.

Sucking in, Theo finished buttoning his casual dress shirt which was perfect for the office picnic they were going to have later that day. It had been a bit difficult finding a good button up in his closet lately that fit on his muscular frame and fuller belly. He rubbed a hand over it, a little ruefully. Especially in the last couple of months, it had started to fill in and he couldn’t exactly deny it anymore that he was getting a bit of a gut. He had played it off for a long while, telling everyone it was just bloat from a good meal, that he was bulking, that his clothes were shrinking in the wash, etc. Theo had also been super focused on everyone else for a while to see that they got bigger and Stiles really was useful at bringing enough food supplies, whipping up meals, and giving recommendations.

Scott had been Theo’s main focus overall. Theo spent much of the year going out to lunch with Scott 2-3 times a week, or even more when they had enough of a lunch break to do so. Otherwise they stayed in the building. Scott was precious and unique and had the amazing capability to make people like him just by smiling at them. And hanging out with Scott, Theo fell in love with him. Scott was extremely agreeable and easygoing and had become one of Theo’s main projects. Theo was always amazed by how much Scott could eat and he loved seeing him in action. Theo called Scott his greedy fat pup and other nicknames and Scott was into that and being bigger, getting admiration and being taken care of. Theo certainly helped in contributing to making Scott a greedy lazy eater and really, Theo loved it. Feeding Scott was a highlight of the day whether at one of Stiles’s recommended restaurants or in the office in their assigned desk space. Stiles provided the food and Theo took care of helping Scott get food down which often lead to seeing Scott get bigger and bigger. Theo’s mistake, he realized, was that he often ate with him or grazed in the presence of Scott or others. Theo spent more time hanging out with Scott feeding or eating with him than he did working out.

Then there was also Danny who was now a really good friend. They were some of the most fit members of the Office remaining. Danny became his workout and training partner and Theo was amazed that someone as smart with computers as Danny would also be good at physical stuff, but sometimes he realized he just needed to stop judging other people so much. Anyways, Danny exceeded expectations and was nearly as strong as Theo, and they bonded over that. Theo did have to grant Stiles that being their Happiness Producer, Stiles was also somehow good at getting them to bond and hang out. Theo had made more friends in the past year than he has done for most of his life. Well, good friends he likes, anyways. Scott and Danny and Isaac and, well, he’s grown to trust and enjoy spending time with people instead of being as serious all the time. He and Danny were very good work out partners and they flexed and teased and gave each other bulking meals the better to grow with. And maybe there was a bit of hidden jealousy and wanting to see Danny get fatter and giving some heavy meals, but interpersonally, he also loved hanging out with Danny. When not feeding Scott, Theo made sure to visit Danny and bring treats for him to share with. Scott occasionally came into the gym, not so much to workout out as the fat pup was lazy and not into that, but so that he could admire Theo and Danny giving a show.

Something else that happened during the year was that Theo moved to a new apartment. His old one was getting small and cramped and the new neighbors were extremely loud all the time. He was being driven crazy with them playing loud obnoxious music all night or very loud activity that had their bed bouncing and screeching like nails on a chalkboard, and crazy parties. Theo could even smell the smoke of cigarettes and marijuana and other drugs. It left him sleep deprived and crabby for a couple weeks, his self-control at a minimum point. He even yelled at Scott and made him frown, an expression he was loathe to see. Well, he wouldn’t have felt bad about anyone else, but making Scott sad bothered him and Theo actually apologized. Fortunately, Scott was very forgiving, and a huge chocolate sundae banana split certainly didn’t hurt either. Scott loved it. But Theo realized he needed to get out of that apartment.

Sure he could have called the police (and he anonymously did) but he deserved a new living place in general. It would help a lot to be closer to work so he didn’t have as far of a distance to travel and something that was nice. He was asking around if people knew of any good locations that were open when Isaac said he was looking for a roommate for rent and such and it was a good room so Theo took the opportunity. At the time he barely knew Isaac or cared but he seemed an okay guy. But what especially sold it was that it was close and that Scott was a friend of Isaac’s and often came over. Additionally, Isaac kept it very well supplied with food. Scott and Isaac were huge eaters, and Theo’s appetite only grew after the move. He needed a lot of fuel for his muscles after all, or at least that’s what he told himself. Scott came over often so the fridge had to be kept very well stocked.

They all ate big when Scott came, with even Theo leaning back from his meal, belly completely stuffed, belching in contentment. He got to see how fat Isaac and Scott were getting, their big, flabby bellies pushing out over their pants, and he got admire and rub them in awe, though his belly grew too. Eating at Isaac’s was certainly a lot of food, and Isaac and Scott got to see Theo’s once form fitting shirts push up over his rounder gut which after a while remained like that. And Isaac loved making huge dinners so even if it was just them, Theo often found himself stuffed pleasantly full patting his belly and relaxing as at Isaac’s place. Isaac was very casual and insisted they relax and have a good time and was a very good roommate. Walking about the room shirtless or in underwear felt freeing and Theo loved to show off flexing.

So time went on and approximately a year since Stiles joined the staff of Hale & Hale, there were definitely quite a number of changes. Everyone was bigger, and while he definitely put on more of a gut than anticipated, still one of the fittest and his muscles were bigger than ever as well, Theo’s old suit could barely fit his beefy body. But it was a lot better than some of his t-shirts which he recently realized had a tendency to roll up a bit and while he didn’t mind showing off to his friends he still wanted a professional image for outside events. There could be other guests and outsiders there after all eager to learn what Hale & Hale was all about. He was going to look sexy professional for outsiders to see.

And indeed when he finally got to the party, Theo was relieved to see he was right. There was a lot of food set out and he knew immediately everyone was going to eat a lot. Stiles’s food just had that effect on people and Theo resisted the urge unbutton his shirt early. Across the parking lot, he spotted the bloated, wobbling form of his pal.

“Hey Scott,” he said, heading over to where Scott was coming in. “How’s it going?” He asked, walking over, a slight waddle to his movement from wider hips and thicker legs. His belly did bounce and wobble slightly under his buttoned shirt and he reached for Scott with a big hug. He pulled Scott in close as one of the few people he enjoyed having hug him. “So, what do you think?” he asked Scott. “Whose my good fat pup,” he teased. “You are!”

Scott chuckled at the name, blushing slightly.

- by @chrhodes

Isaac woke up at about 11am. It was early for a day off. Usually, on weekends and holidays, he was more likely to get up in the middle of the afternoon. But as always, he found himself on the couch in his flat with a multitude of food wrappers covering the coffee table. This was a usual testament to Scott’s and his eating abilities. They usually met up with Stiles for game night and the boy was in charge of bringing the food. But since Stiles had to prepare the Memorial Day Party, he could not make it last night so Isaac ended up alone with a massive Chinese take out.

With some difficulty, he heaved his heavier body off the couch, ignoring its loud creaking, readjusting his ‘a-size-too-small’ boxers and made his way to breakfast.

For the past year, Isaac’s breakfast ritual consisted in enjoying freshly baked goods in a friendly and cosy café a block away from his flat and two from the office. He discovered this heavenly place thanks to Stiles and was now a daily customer.

Not caring about his tight schedule for the day, he grabbed his sweat pants and teeshirt and prepared himself. That was his official rest day outfit, which really needed to be upgraded, again. He could still order some online anyways. He did not really care about the way he looked outside working hours, and he did not want to bother wasting his precious time shopping. So he was not shocked to see that his teeshirt ill-fitted him around his significant paunch. He knew he had put on weight this past year and maybe, if he had the time and the courage, he could try to go to the gym.

Isaac found himself caressing his well-shaped but also a little soft gut, looking at his plumped frame in the mirror, noting the way his ass was now enhanced by his sweat pants. They were clinging to his asscheeks smoothly and tightly, stressing around his wider thighs and against his expanded waist.

His face is getting a little softer and bloated too, with slightest puffier cheeks, softer jawline and a small beginning of a double chin. Still, he was looking good, after all Stiles kept telling him he looked like a cherub.

As he arrived at the café, as usual, the employees prepared for their best customer a plate of omelette with bacon, a tower of pancakes with chocolate chips, drenched with syrup, a large chocolate muffin and a deluxe cinnamon roll with a tall glass of chocolate frappuccino and an orange juice. They usually joked calling Isaac’s order ‘The Lahey special’.

Without hesitation, Isaac began his usual gorge of the variety of foods, his belly getting rounder and rounder as each bite went down.

“Damn man, you sure can eat.” The waiter said as he refilled Isaac’s glass with orange juice a smirk on his face.

“Yeah, I can definitely pack it down, it’s easy when the food is good though.”

“Well, at this rate I am sure we will have to upgrade ‘The Lahey Special’.” He joked before going to another client.

Isaac had to face it, he was going to keep putting on weight with the calories he daily piled on due to his growing appetite.

He never bothered to weight himself, but his best guess was he had put on at least 60 pounds putting him around 240lbs. Earlier this year, he though about cutting down on his meals for a couple weeks in hopes of losing some of the weight, but he realized it would have been too hard given all the temptations around him. After all, he was not the only one with a growing appetite. At work, he watched with odd curiosity bellies growing larger and rounder, Scott and Derek being the prime examples.

Also, how could he stop putting on weight with Stiles around? He was pretty sure the boy had a crush on Derek given he was always coming to his office. Also, he liked him and his appetite improved considerably as they became friends, with his waistline steadily expanding in return.

He realized that now he always associated Stiles with food, certainly because the boy was always carrying and giving some. Not that he complained.

Usually, Stiles arrived at 10 to give Derek a snack, lunch at 12, came twice during the afternoon and was even bringing dinner if the boss had to stay late. And every time he visited Derek, he always brought the same treat to Isaac. Sometimes, after hearing that some coworkers where doing that, he asked Stiles to get him food from the grocery store or from the burger dinner.

Where as before, Issac was always grateful for Stiles’ diligence, after a few weeks of being given everything he could possibly ever want, he became spoiled. He now expected Stiles to give him whatever he wanted to eat. And being the nice and eager to please man Stiles was, he complied to the demands of a now impatient Isaac. Even if Isaac liked the man, it was his job to keep them happy and food and company where the things that made Isaac happy.

Remembering about the party starting in few hours, Isaac hurried to gulp down the remains of his large breakfast before painfully making his way home.

He pulled up his teeshirt as he laid down on the couch. He could not say he was full. True a year ago he would have found ‘The Lahey Special’ impossible to finish, but with his usual training it was easier to finish it quicker and quicker. Also, he was pretty sure Stiles would have planned food at the party, so he could have his fill during the whole afternoon, knowing perfectly he will be hungry again in a couple of hours.

- by @chubby-derek-and-friends

Derek Hale frowned as he looked into his mostly empty closet. The amount of clothing he had to wear was drastically less than it had been at this time last year, the cedar-lined room practically bare. Only a week previous, Derek has begun his spring cleaning, taking out any pants or shirts that couldn’t be buttoned. The pile had been…bigger than Derek would like to think about.  

Thanks to his tailor, and monthly standing appointments, Derek at least had clothes for the office, and his standard basketball shorts and tank top undershirts were always good for lounging around his loft apartment (even though they had been sized up at least once in the last year), and for workouts (which had been whittled down from a strict 6-days a week to 2-3). But as Derek stared at the clothes he had hanging in his closet, he was faced with the fact that he did not in fact have anything that would be appropriate for his company’s Memorial Day Picnic.  

“Shit,” Derek sighed.  

***

Wandering around a crowded mall the Sunday before Memorial Day was not exactly Derek’s idea of relaxing outing. In fact, Derek hated shopping, and he really hated malls. Malls were loud and full of people and while Derek had no trouble with his colleagues in the office, or even a board meeting full of people staring at him (okay, that may still have made his stomach squirm), Derek was definitely not a social butterfly. 

In the office, there was an easy social structure to most interactions. And even though Derek preferred that his employees call him by his first name rather than, “Mr. Hale,” there was still an easy-to-navigate blueprint Derek could follow for most of his daily conversations. Well, with everyone except Stiles.  

It had been almost a year since that very first elevator ride with Stiles on his first day as Hale & Hale’s Happiness Producer, and what did Derek have to show for it? Fifty extra pounds gained and a complete inability to talk to a man he fantasized about. Normally, Derek had no problem addressing and employee, but for whatever reason, he always seemed to become tongue-tied around Stiles. Or worse, he would blurt out something that would seem like the lewdest innuendo. Derek was just thankful that Stiles seemed to take them as jokes. He never seemed uncomfortable and continued to show up with lunch for Derek almost daily. That was probably where most of his weight gain had come from.  

Derek rubbed his stomach as he weaved through the crowds, feeling the plush belly currently contained in a button-up shirt. The warm cinnamon smell of freshly baked goodies distracted him for a moment, and Derek almost found himself making a detour to the food court, but he managed to stop himself, returning to his mission. Okay…maybe it wasn’t all Stiles’s fault, but Stiles was also damn good at his job. Too damn good.  

Derek huffed out a sigh as he dodged a gaggle of teenagers and headed into American Eagle, doing his best to push thoughts of Stiles from his mind, lest they make the venture even more awkward than it was shaping up to be. He quickly made his way to the shorts and began browsing. 

The worst part of this entire venture was that Derek didn’t really know what size he needed to buy. With his pants being tailor made and his basketball shorts a stretchy-waisted “large”, he didn’t really have any way of figuring out what to buy, short of calling his tailor to get his measurements, the idea of which made him more uncomfortable than the prospect before him: grabbing a couple of pairs of shorts and trying them on in a dressing room.  

“Can I help you find anything?” A voice asked from behind. 

Derek frowned and turned to find a pixie-like girl smiling brightly up at him. “Uh, shorts.” He grunted out. 

“Of course! Do you know what style you want?” The girl asked, moving around him to the racks. 

Derek looked at her blankly. 

The girl continued, unperturbed. “We’ve got slim fit, classic, cargo, jean shorts, or ‘jorts,” the girl giggled.  

Derek didn’t laugh, not really understanding.  

The girl’s smile started to fade a little, and Derek began to sense that he was really messing up the interaction. He turned back to the rack in front of him, and pawed through the hangers. “Uh, I’m going to a company picnic tomorrow and I needed something casual enough for a picnic, but still nice looking.” 

The girl’s smile widened at Derek’s participation. “Got it! Well then I would steer away from jean shorts and cargos. Both are a little too relaxed. You’re gonna want to stick to the cleaner look of either the classic or the slim fit.” 

Derek snorted at the idea of him wearing anything considered “slim fit” at his current size, then frowned when he realized the girl looked unhappy again. “Sorry, was thinking to myself. I think the classic would be best. “ 

“Classic it is! Do you know what shade you want?” The girl said. 

“:..khaki.”  

“Okay, and what size?”  

Here Derek blushed. “I…um…I don’t know.” 

“Oh! Well we can measure you if you need? Or we can check your pants’ tag…” 

“These are made by my tailor. They don’t have a size.” Derek felt like an elitist asshole for a second. “I…um…I know I used to wear a 32 in college, but I’m not quite as…fit…as I used to be. So, maybe 36?” 

The girl nodded, playing off Derek’s comments. “Okay! If you want, we can get a couple different sizes so you can see what’s comfortable. Every pant is cut differently and if you’re used to wearing tailored clothes, it might not feel right immediately. The 38’s are the largest we have in-store but we can also order larger sizes online.” 

Derek nodded, feeling sure that he wouldn’t have to go that far, and watched as the girl began to pull khaki shorts off the rack, gathering sizes from 34 to 38. Derek felt a blush at the larger size being added to the armful she had, and wanted to say something, but then stopped himself. She was right, maybe the shorts would fit differently. What did it hurt? Aside from his pride.  

Derek followed the sales girl to the dressing rooms. The loud music that played through the store seemed even louder back here and Derek couldn’t help but wince. God, was he becoming an old man? The thought made him frown as the girl opened a room and hung the shorts on a hook inside for him. 

“Here you go! I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit, okay?” She smiled at him, before hopping off back to the sales floor. 

Derek quickly dodged into the closet and pulled the door shut. He both hated and loved someone else knowing how much he had let himself go. It was erotic, but also embarrassing. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he looked into the mirror and tried to calm himself down. The urge to flee was almost overwhelming but Derek used all his self-control to center himself and override those feelings.  

“Come on,” he told himself sternly as he picked up the first pair of shorts, “you’re already here. Just figure out which shorts fit and then you can get out of here.” 

Maybe get some Cinnabon on the way out, his mind answered him. 

Derek frowned at the thought and quickly pulled off his pants. He never used to be that into sweets before Stiles started working at the office. Or...rather, he never used to allow himself to eat that many. He’d been a jock in high school and college, so watching his diet had been second nature. Now though...now he craved them. And he loved seeing them pop up on his desk, especially when Stiles was the one to drop them off. It felt...almost...like a personal gift from him, which just made their decadence all the sweeter.  

Derek grunted as he pulled up the first pair of shorts. The stiff material hugged Derek’s thighs and he had barely pulled the shorts’ waistband up to his ass. These were definitely too tight. With not a small amount of trepidation, Derek worked the shorts back down his legs and picked them up to face level to check the size. 34’s.  

Derek sighed with relief. He hadn’t expected these to fit anyways. Though how tight they were didn’t exactly give him hope for the other sizes. Folding the current pair in half, Derek set them aside and picked up the next ones. 36’s. He checked before he started pulling them on.  

God, 36’s. Derek had never imagined that he would need to size up like this when he was younger. He never imagined himself other than the trim athlete he had been in his youth, but running a major corporation had a way of changing things. And Stiles’ additions to his diet certainly weren’t helping things. And this was just after a year with him on the team. What would the future Derek look like? The idea was both frightening and incredibly arousing. 

Derek huffed slightly as he pulled the shorts up over his ass. The fabric was skin-tight around his thighs again, although he had at least gotten the waistband up over his butt. Or so he thought. Derek turned sideways to find that his reflection showed the shorts had actually stopped short of completely covering him in the back, leaving a couple of inches of underwear-clad booty in plain view. And he still hadn’t even tried to button the shorts. Derek looked down at the last pair and swallowed, suddenly very nervous. This was the largest size they had in store.  

Pushing down the 36’s, Derek silently cursed every snack and fat-filled meal he’d eaten since Stiles started working at Hale & Hale. He tossed the rejected pair on top of the 34’s and picked up the 38’s, holding them out in front of him to gage their size. They looked wide in his hands, but then again, so did his pants recently. Derek took a deep breath and started putting on the shorts. He managed to pull them up over his butt completely, though there was very little wiggle room, and the fabric still pulled at his thighs and crotch, but Derek was determined to make do. He tugged the shorts closed, struggling to get the button to slide into the hole. He fought for a moment, but the fabric wouldn’t budge, and he felt like his thumbs were more hindrance than help. With a grunt, he relaxed, letting the shorts gap back open. His rounded belly pooched out over the shorts.  

Determined, Derek sucked in a deep breath, pulling his stomach in with it, and again pulled the two sides of the shorts together. His face got redder and redder as he struggled to get the button through the hole. After a minute of fighting with it, Derek felt the fastener slip into place, and he sighed out a heavy breath. His stomach rolled forward, high and proud. The waistband pinched uncomfortable in the front, and the legs and crotch pulled from the back as his ass stressed the rear seam. He looked at his reflection in the fitting room mirror, noticing how much bigger his belly looked with the tight shorts cinching it up. His love handles looked wider too, lopping over the sides. If anything, the shorts just made him look fatter.  

Derek slid his hands up over the rounded, heavy globe of his belly. The light fur train the led from his belly button continued downwards, but the rest of his belly was only slightly furred. The skin was sensitive, crisscrossed with tiny stretch marks that had grown with Derek’s appetite. The sensation of tracing them sent a shiver up his spine like it always did.  

Placing a hand below the protuberance of his gut, Derek hefted it slightly, feeling both the weight and the softness. Had it only been a year ago that he had a visibly 8-pack? God, what was happening to him? 

All that playing with his belly was having a profound effect on Derek’s dick. He could feel the erection building as he shifted his hands around and pressed in and around on the soft, jiggly mound. What would Stiles say if he saw him like this? Would he be into it? Or would he only be interested in the slim, fit man Derek used to be? His dedication to feeding Derek certainly seemed to lean more towards the prior, but who was to say?  

Derek’s stomach growled loudly, and Derek was suddenly struck with how hungry he was. Hoping to be finished, Derek reached below his belly and began trying to pull up the zipper, but it wouldn’t move. He grunted and groaned and tried again and again, but the zipper stayed stubbornly unzipped, and Derek was forced to finally admit defeat. Derek’s shoulders slouched. He was still short-less. 

A knock at the fitting room door startled him and caused him to jump.  

“Everything alright in there?” asked the voice of the girl who had been helping Derek before.  

Derek looked down at the gapping fly on the shorts, then at the pooch of his belly.

“Uh...not really.” he said.  

“Are those sizes not working out for you?” she asked.  

Derek flushed, feeling embarrassed that his inability to fit into the largest pair the store sold was basically being broadcast to the other shoppers. “...No.”  

There was a slap of fabric and buttons as a pair of khaki shorts was thrown over the door. “I found a pair in our stock room that someone ordered and then returned. They’re a size up from the once I gave you. Do you want to try them on?” 

Derek seized the shorts like a lifeline, tugging them over the door. “Uh, yeah. Thanks,” he grunted.  

“You’re welcome!” the girl called chipperly. 

Derek held up and looked at the shorts, checking the tag. 40”. Jesus, was this who he was now? 

Fumbling with the button at his waist, Derek undid the 38’s and pushed them down his legs. The fabric peeled off like lycra, and he wondered why he thought he was going to get them to fit as he pushed them the rest of the way off with his feet. He picked up the shorts and threw them on the stack of the other rejects, not even bothering to try and fold them.  

Finally, he unfolded the 40’s and put his feet into the leg holes. He slid them up his legs where they tautly, but not tightly, fit around his butt. The button at the waist still took a little bit of finagling to get to close, but when he had the shorts buttoned and the zipper zipped, he found that the shorts were already 10 times more comfortable than the last pair, even if they did pull a little bit.  

Derek looked at himself in the mirror. Sure, his stomach still pooched out over the waistband, but they weren’t ridiculously tight like the others, and they didn’t give him a crazy muffin-top. He could wear these to the picnic. Then after Monday, maybe he could look into getting back into shape.  

Derek turned and checkout out his butt in the shorts, noting how they hugged the curve in a visually appealing way. Okay, so his shape wasn’t that bad. 

Now that he had a pair of shorts that fit, Derek felt relieved. It only took a few minutes for Derek to take off the shorts and put his pants back on, then head to the register with the 40’s on his arm. Checkout was pretty painless as well. No one commented on the shorts’ size. Before he knew it, Derek was walking out of the clothing store with his purchase and a smile on his face. A smile that carried him straight to the food court where he promptly bought a half-dozen Cinnabon. His diet didn’t start until Tuesday, right? Besides, he deserved a reward for dealing with the crowds at the mall. 

*** 

Monday dawned bright and clear, no hint of cloud or threat of rain, which was a good thing, as Derek knew Stiles had put a lot into the outdoor event. The successful shopping trip had left Derek feeling a little better about his prospects of talking to Stiles. Sure, his waist was definitely larger than he had thought, but the more Derek looked at himself in the mirror, the more he liked his “curves.” He liked the feeling of power that his size gave him, liked how broad and intimidating he looked. He also liked how his body felt; how sensitive his belly and his chest were; how his body moved when he walked.  

He had worked out in his building’s gym on Sunday and the definite bounce his chub gave every time he made a circuit on the elliptical machine left him feeling more keyed up at the end of the workout then he’d ever been before. He’d had to cut his weight routine short for fear of revealing just how much his body excited him. It was a new feeling, and one Derek wasn’t exactly sure what to do with, but he was willing to go with it.  

When he was dressed in his new shorts and a short-sleeve button down shirt, Derek found that he felt more confident. The way the plaid fabric of his shirt hugged his rounded gut and love handles was satisfying to his eye the way a tapered shirt used to be on his trimmer frame. And with his new-found confidence, Derek was hopeful that Stiles just might, MIGHT, reciprocate his feelings. 

Derek took one last deep breath, and headed out the door.  

*** 

Walking up to the park where the Annual Hale Memorial Day Picnic was being held, Derek couldn't help but smile. The park was full of Stiles’s little touches, from the giant picnic blanket, to the towering chocolate fountain, to the inflatable obstacle course. It reminded him of coming to picnics with his family when he was younger, a thought that brought up bittersweet memories of his parents mingling seamlessly with both investors and employees, his siblings playing sports and games on the open grass fields with the other employees’ children, the music and food and fun all around him. It was a little overwhelming, and Derek was the only one to arrive yet.  

Well, not the only one. Out among the decorations and seating areas, Derek could see Stiles giving instructions and orchestrating the chaos as last-minute set-up was done, food was delivered and set out, and final preparations were made. Stiles was the man that had brought back the feeling of Derek’s parent’s company, and Derek needed to tell him how he felt.  

Striding bravely up to the man’s back, Derek tried to think of what he could say, how he could convey what he was feeling. All too soon he was right behind Stiles. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Stiles turned around.  

“Hey Scott...” the man greeted, then stopped, his face morphing from a nervous smile to a look of surprise. “You’re not Scott...” 

“This is so perfect, Stiles,” Derek said, “You’re wonderful!”  

Stiles immediately blushed, which Derek can’t help but find adorable. “Oh, uh, thanks, Derek. I mean...I’m just doing my job.” 

Derek was about to reply when Stiles’s phone goes off.  

“Uh, sorry, I need answer this,” Stiles said, putting the phone to his ear and stepping off to the side. “Hey.” 

Derek stood there waiting. He does his best not to eavesdrop, but Stiles is right there.

“Yeah, today is the picnic. No, I knew you wouldn’t be able to make it, it’s okay. I still want you to meet everybody eventually. Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll be home around ten or so. You don’t have to wait up for me. Okay, well, I’ll see you tonight then. Okay, love you.” 

Derek felt his stomach dropping more and more with each sentence. Did Stiles have a significant other? Why hadn’t Derek heard about it? Obviously they were serious enough if Stiles wanted them to meet all his coworkers. God, no wonder Stiles seemed put-off by Derek’s comment. 

Before Stiles could turn back around, Derek had quickly moved away. He had made a beeline for the giant chocolate fountain, and was using it to block himself from Stiles’s view.  

God, Derek was such an idiot. Of course someone like Stiles would already have someone. People like Stiles didn’t wait around for guys like Derek to come to them. He probably met someone thin and happy and talkative who liked going out and didn’t spend all his time working.