minific dave wg/hugewg/oblivious wg/stuffing

Okay, this had to be some kind of prank. Ha ha, John, you silly asshole, of course you’d be able to swap out an entire wardrobes worth of clothes, probably God Tier bullshitting the whole thing like some kind of Greek wind god on a manbro panty raid, and if you dicked my shorts anywhere near as much as half of those mythological assholes dicked random snake broads I’m gonna have to have another intervention, get Rose to break out the comfy chair and go full on Plato on these sick transgressions of mortal affairs so the rest of history can known the name of Egbert as synonymous with blowing through some guys house and jacking and/or jacking off with all his shit the pants didn’t fit either.

Through his shades, Dave stared at the slightly-crooked full-body mirror propped haphazardly in the corner of his room. The boy looking back at him wore an equally unreadable expression behind those opaque classes, and his hands hovered awkwardly at the sides of what was definitely a larger torso than before. His top, a simple record-emblazoned top with shorter sleeves for warmer days, settled high enough on his front to expose a small yet soft band of flesh bulging over his boxers even when he simply stood still, and raising his arms caused it to lift right off the slightly rounded tummy forming in front of him. The pants weren’t holding up much better, uncomfortably tight on his thighs and pinching his hips a little, even though he was absolutely positive those hips were lithe by most standards.

He was pretty sure about a lot of things, or so he thought, but when he gently squeezed his exposed side between two fingers and ended up pinching the beginnings of lovehandles, the most his mind could respond with was a deep sigh and a brief lapse in his chill exterior to bite his lower lip slightly. Well, shit, apparently something had gone wrong, because he definitely wasn’t getting into those pants anytime soon. Letting himself drop back onto the bed behind him, his mind wandered back to the past few days.

Chilling at the others’ houses, playing video games, working on tracks, having dumb 1am conversations because he was never the sort to have a good sleep schedule…not a lot had changed. Well, there was the fact that he could easily drop by at someone’s home when their place was clearly in the need of someone who knew how to drop a beat, which meant he had actually been around people who knew how to cook. And, yeah, maybe he had been enjoying that a bit too much. John’s dad was the sort of guy to make just barely too much food for every meal, and given the typical dietary arrangements he had grown up with (namely Bro tossing take-out, junk food and instant noodles at his head with alarming irregularity), nobody could fault him if he took the opportunity to indulge a little. And Jane’s side of the quasi-family wasn’t much better, the heiress herself always seeming to have some sort of baked good in the oven on a clear day that, in hindsight, she seemed a little too eager to offer up to him. Rose’s mom, too, was ridiculously doting, and Jake was always a hearty eater, and…

Okay, wow. He wasn’t sure why it took staring at his thickening frame in the mirror to realize just how often he had been leaving houses recently packed to the gills with homemade meals, but the creeping realization of just how many evenings he had spent joking loudly to the others to mask his pleasurably uncomfortable fullness was abruptly weighing on his mind. A few more meals like that and he’d probably be outgrowing pretty much all of his remaining clothes, and even with Kanaya around more than happy for an excuse to tailor something functional, he wasn’t looking forward to having to admit he managed to gorge himself out of his own pants accidentally.

Granted, he also wasn’t looking forward to having to turn down the copious amounts of foodstuffs entering his life and his gullet lately, but now that he knew just how much he had been letting his diet slip away from him, fixing the issue wouldn’t be a problem at all. Nobody would ever be wise to why he went the rest of that night without pants.

—-

The door banged loudly against the opposite wall as he pushed it open, squeezing against the worn doorframe (which he knew was always that shitty to get through) and tossing his jacket to the floor without much of a care. His stomach was taking up most of his mental faculties, as seemed to be the norm more often than not those days, though the ridiculous amount of savory Chinese packed into the enormous tummy courtesy of Roxy’s impromptu dinner party might have had something to do with his immediate discomfort. Slowly and carefully, he shifted himself through his room, thighs bulging over and against his desk, and as he gently lowered himself onto his bed, his expected point of rest was cut off by a slow, groaning crack and the mattress sharply dropping another inch or so.

Lying back on soft arms thick enough to use as pillows, he gently slid out of his pants, the ridiculously wide band still managing to dig into his colossal midriff as he wobbled his whole body side to side and freed his lower half from the constricting fabric. Shit, he must have eaten more than he thought, because there was no way he went up another size; he looked and felt exactly the same as he had before. Wiping his brow, he turned his head at the mirror, knocked a bit lower from accidental bumpings over the past while but still perfectly functional, and studiously looked at the mountainous boy returning his gaze.

It turns out that when a majority of your friends either have absurdly generous parents, own tech that makes cooking mass meals effortless, have the money to burn on buffets and diners or consider themselves accomplished chefs or foodies, quitting food was easier said than done. He could still faintly remember the first time he came home only to realize that there was more than enough thick, plush flab on his body to squeeze in both hands, top clinging to his soft skin far too much to be merely the cake he had mostly polished off himself thanks to Jane, and had spent enough time chastising himself mentally about losing track of himself to ensure he would properly keep tabs on his calorie intake. At least, he thought he had, but the sheer amount of Dave looking back at him seemed to disagree.

The spot on the bed where he usually settled down to sit and sleep was clearly the lowest point of the structure, and the dip seemed to only highlight the sheer width of his hips, far too large for any normal chair and even most fancier seats to handle. His massive thighs were spread slightly, bare save for the sliver of underwear visible from beneath the absolutely enormous mass of belly overflowing his lap and forcing him to lean back slightly even as he casually sat, the softest and warmest pillow imaginable that hung out from every shirt he could find and only seemed to increase in size after the sorts of meals it took to satisfy him anymore. Not that his shirt wasn’t already in perilous straights thanks to his top-straining moobs and thick arms bulging from the short sleeves, and not that he needed any more help growing larger, if the sudden awkwardness of his doorframe was any indication.

But it wasn’t sudden, was it? There was that tiny voice in the back of his mind saying no, he should have known it was happening, should have been able to see himself blimp up from a wiry ninja-fast bundle of skill and agility to a huge, heavy, waddling blob of a boy before his eyes, and yet he hadn’t. Even now, looking at himself, seeing the way just pushing himself to his feet to take his shirt off took enough effort to leave him winded and exhausted and how his entire body wobbles, bounces and swayed with the struggle of stripping down for bed, he couldn’t comprehend how he hadn’t seen it coming, but no matter how much he wracked his mind, the only thing he could think of were the sensations of enormous meals, blissfully stuffed bellies, decadent tastes and the gentle teasing of his various friends at how voracious he turned out to be when unleashed from a lifetime of snacks and order-in meals.

Slowly, he sighed, turning the light off and toddling back to bed. Starting tomorrow, he thought, he would actually try to pay attention to how much he was eating. Losing that much weight was probably going to take months, if he even succeeded (or even tried), but when the alternative was letting himself grow even bigger and find it even more awkward to merely wobble about his business, it was something he would just have to commit himself to.

He just had to try to focus, even though his mind had already wandered back to food by the time he dozed off.