john solo weight gain unfitting clothes

This could not be happening.

John stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror, and felt his heart drop upon the sight of the tubby boy looking back at him. Around him were ornament drawers and polished decorations, a symbol of the relative wealth of the Lalonde family. To his left, his typical attire, now far too small to be comfortable. To his right, the larger pants Kanaya and Rose had graciously sewn for him. On his body, the accompanying shirt. Well...perhaps "on his body" was a bit of a stretch.

The shirt itself, however, undoubtedly fell under "stretch". Despite being based on measurements taken only a week and a half earlier, it barely fit on his torso. It instead rode up over the soft, pale ball of pudge that was his stomach, navel cheekily peering out in defiance. The sleeves, likewise, were constricting, flabby arms barely squeezing through the holes and feeling much like sausages in a can. As he turned slightly to look at his side, John caught a glimpse of the seams pulling worryingly along the sides, threatening to rupture from the excess flesh forced within. Below, his bare thighs wobbled slightly, modest white underpants the only thing keeping him decent.

Sighing, John began the arduous task of removing the ill-fitting garment. Ever since the game had ended, he had been making up for lost time with his father. Doing so often involved baking, and although he still harbored a slight and irrational hatred of baked goods, the fact that his dad was finally back with him more than made up for it and allowed the two to bond over batter and spoon. This, of course, had the side effect of steadily packing pounds onto John's once-lithe frame; after all, the cake had to go somewhere. Not helping things were his common outings at the Strider household, home of microwave breakfasts and pizza dinners.

When his favorite outfit reached the point where it was far too tight to wear, he had visited Rose and Kanaya for help. It was evident that they had been sharing and building upon their seamstress abilities, and the two had decided to create a replacement outfit for the flabby teen. Unfortunately, Rose's mother was more than a tad doting, and between the cushy environment and her gracious offerings of complimentary chocolates, John's already-monumental weight had only grown.

Finally, John succeeded in separating the shirt from his skin. As he screwed his eyes shut to pull the shirt over his head, he felt his rounded boobs flop out slightly. Once it was fully off, he held it up and examined the clothing. It was identical to his old slime shirt, only larger, and the effort of forcing it onto his bulky frame had clearly stretched it out slightly. With one last disdainful glance, he tossed it onto the bed behind him and reached for the pants.

They were simple black pants, made of a comfortable yet airy material John was unable to pinpoint. A simple button adorned the front, and the pockets were surprisingly deep. He thumbed the waist absent-mindedly, noting with hope that the waistband was elastic, before taking a deep breath and beginning the challenge of wearing his pants.

His first reaction was to bend down and step into the pant legs. However, as he leaned forward, his belly pressed itself up against his thighs. The combined mass of both obscured his view and threw off his balance, causing him to stagger sideways. Lifting one leg, he reached forward to loop the pant around it, only to be stopped by his gut and breasts.

With a frustrated huff, he sat down on the bed and swung his meaty legs into the air. Although it was awkward, he could now succeed in getting both pant legs onto his calves. Content, he bent forward and pushed himself into a sitting position, before standing up and giving an exhausted puff. He never knew putting on pants could be so tiring.

John eyed the mirror again, and was suddenly unsure if he would succeed in his endeavors. The pants were rather wide, yes, but his thighs were larger. He squeezed his knees together in an attempt to make himself smaller, before gripping the waistband of the clothes and tugging hard. There was a slight creak as something in the fabric gave, and the pants began their ascend up the surface of John's legs.

Halfway up his thighs, there was a sudden stop. He tried shifting left and right, slowly working the pants up, but before long they refused to continue. Gritting his teeth, John gave a short hop, his bare rolls jiggling freely and the floor below creaking obnoxiously. The pants had been forced slightly higher, however, and he continued to make short jumps, combined with rapid twisting and jiggling in an attempt to reach his waist.

Finally, the burden of pulling the waistband up became easier, and with a sigh of relief John managed to slide them up to his midriff...almost. There was another tug, this time from the back, and John realized that while he had been yanking the front of the pants up, the rear end had become trapped beneath the shelf of his ass. A blush spread across his face, combining with the red of exertion, and he turned around, craning his neck back to glimpse his reflection.

Sure enough, the bulging cheeks of his butt had stopped the waistband from reaching it's destination. Although he was already sweating and red-faced from the hopping, he swallowed his discomfort and gripped one cheek in each hand, attempting to push his posterior into the abused article of clothing. Although his hands were too small to fully grasp his bubble butt, he eventually managed to shove and poke the excess flab under the waist.

John paused to wipe the sweat from his brow before turning around to face the mirror, steeling himself for the real challenge: the button. He feebly tugged the two sides of the clasp together, grimacing as his gut was squished sideways, before taking a hard, deep breath and...

"John?"

He froze. Slowly, he turned to face the door. Rose stood in the open arch, leaning against the frame nonchalantly, one eyebrow quirked. John attempted to respond, but his mouth was dry from the physical work of dressing, and he could only cough awkwardly.

"I take it they don't fit as well as we had hoped." Rose strode over to John's side, gingerly reaching down and tugging at the waistband. Her slender finger was barely able to slide between the fabric and John's squishy waist. "You could have simply said so without going through the trouble of forcing them on, you know."

"I know, but..." John gave a sheepish grin and turned back to the mirror. "I've almost got it! Just...just a bit more..." He gave a sharp pull, failing to bridge the two sides of the clasp of his pants, while Rose stepped behind him, eyes glancing over the straining rear of the garment. John grit his teeth yet again, trying with all his might to suck in his globular belly as he pulled to little avail.

He gave a shiver when he felt Rose's bare arms wrap around his torso, dainty hands coming to rest around his belly button. She pressed herself up against his chubby body, sinking into his back slightly as she squeezed John's stomach inwards in an attempt to help the teen fit into his clothes. As she pulled at his rolls, slightly damp with sweat, John fought down his increasing blush and pulled the button as hard as he could.

Eventually, both Rose and John became tired, and with a sigh of defeat John let go of the clasp. Now beet-red, he turned to face Rose, who had let herself fall into a sitting position on the bed, breathing heavy due to the effort of trying to squeeze John's fat into a more manageable size. "We'll have to retake your measurements, then."

"Indeed." John was about to reply when he paused, blinked, and then huffed as he turned back to the door. Kanaya stood in the hall, face slightly tinged with green, as she held one hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. Sighing, John flopped down on the bed next to Rose. "Yeah."

"I'm Sorry, Dear," Kanaya began, striding into the room, "I Did Not Mean To Intrude On Your Privacy". She swallowed the last of her chuckling as she daintily sat down on the now-encumbered bed, measuring tape in one hand. "I Merely Heard The Thumping Noises And Wished To Investigate. I Take It Your Garments Failed To Meet Expectations?"

John looked up at the rainbow drinker, blue eyes laced with frustration. "Not really...ugh, I'm sorry if I ruined them on you, it's just...I wanted them to fit." He gave a sigh, turning his head to glance at Rose. "They're nice."

"We Can Always Recycle The Material, John." Kanaya gave a soft smile, leaning forward and rubbing the curve of John's belly with one hand. "It Is Hardly A Problem. Trolls Very Often Go Through Spontaneous Growth Periods And Require Retailoring Of Their Wardrobes."

"Yeah, but, it's probably easier when your butt isn't huge." John flipped himself into a sitting position, bare chest wobbling, and was met with a loud tearing sound as the poor, overworked pants finally ended their existence by ripping down the side and sending pale flab oozing out. "See? Ugh."

"I wouldn't say that's never a problem..." Rose glanced at John, and then to Kanaya, a mischievous glint in her velvet eyes. "After all, did you not ask for assistance in reworking your clothes to accommodate your...rather sizeable posterior, Miss Maryam?" She gave a slight smile towards the troll, who had suddenly become a vibrant shade of green and merely responded with a subdued "Um."

John couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, alright, fine! So are we doing this now?" He stood up and stretched, ripped pants hanging limply from his waist. On cue, Kanaya was by his side, measuring tapes wrapped around the soft, curved surface of his belly, acutely focused on her measurements and not on the smug-looking Rose sitting on the bed.

"Oh, and, John?"

"Yeah, Rose?"

"I'm going to have to call Strider and have him actually attempt to cook healthy meals from time to time."

John couldn't help but groan.