Work Text:
Roy first noticed the difference one warm summer evening after coming home from work. Removing his uniform pants, he noted that they were getting rather . . . tight. Particularly around the middle. As in, tight enough to leave a slightly sweaty indent around his waist. He wondered how long that had been going on, practiced some self-admonition about keeping himself in shape, and vowed to cut back on the sweets. It had been a while since he’d made use of the gym at headquarters, and even longer since he’d engaged in a set physical training regimen, so he decided to make that a priority.
But he never did.
Between his duties as a decorated General on a sure and steady path to the Führership and spending quality time with his lover, Roy just never got around to it. The pants got tighter and more uncomfortable, and eventually his shirts started to feel pretty snug too. By mid autumn he could no longer deny that his weight was an issue he wouldn’t be able to address any time soon, so Roy finally bit the bullet and ordered new uniforms in a larger size. He resigned himself to working off the extra pounds when he wasn’t so busy. He’d just have to ease back on the junk food.
Which was easier said than done. With the demands of his position limiting his free time, it was quicker to grab a chocolate bar and a can of pop than to go to the mess or order in to the office. He had taken to keeping a stash of high calorie snacks in his desk, and dipped into it whenever he was hungry – which was often.
At home it was even harder to cut back. Roy’s live-in was an amazing cook, and Roy couldn’t help but eat hearty, always indulging in more than one helping. Worse still was avoiding all the tasty treats around the house. Roy’s lover was always snacking on something tempting while very generously offering to share – candy, cake, potato chips, pastry - and to add insult to injury, he seemed immune to weight gain. It really wasn’t fair.
Ah well. A uniform one, or two, or even three sizes larger wasn’t that big a big deal, really.
Roy found that examining himself in the mirror kind of was, however.
Midwinter now, and alone in the house after a shower, standing naked in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom, Roy took stock.
Running a hand over his paunchy midriff, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed the full extent of his weight gain. It had been a slow, creeping process, sure, but a close examination revealed that he had bulked up quite a bit. Where a reasonably well defined six-pack used to reside, there was now a smooth, rounded belly. And it wasn’t just his tummy that was flabby either. His chest was . . . inflated as well. He wouldn’t say that his pectorals could be acknowledged as actual breasts at this point, but they were certainly getting there.
Turning to the side, Roy squinted at the reflection of his butt. The extra bulk around his waist and hips padded his backside as well. And more. It was no wonder his clothes had felt tight; the weight he had gained was evenly distributed. Taking in the big picture, Roy could see the truth of it. His arms and shoulders, his hips and legs, hell, even his cheeks were chubby. He was a giant butterball.
But it wasn’t too bad, was it? Maybe the mirror was warped, and was distorting his actual size, a cruel sort of optical illusion. And even if it wasn’t the mirror’s fault, then fine, he would admit that he had gained weight, but there were better terms to describe his new physical appearance than by throwing the ‘F’ word out there. He was husky. Heavyset. Portly. Corpulent, even. He couldn’t . . . actually . . . be called . . . fat . . . could he?
He gave his admittedly plumpish belly a slap.
It jiggled ponderously, almost in slow motion, a giant bag of Roy-jelly.
Oh my God! He was fat! A big, lumbering elephant! A lard-assed blimp! He was a goddamned whale!
Roy tore his eyes away from the mirror and staggered over to his dresser. In the midst of his body image meltdown, he noticed that his boxers and sweatpants were getting snug too, and melted down even more. He went into crisis mode, imagining every worst case scenario. Could his team continue to respect a greedy food hog? Could a fatty ever expect to become Führer? Would his lover leave him for a fitter man?
Oh God, what about his best friend, the love of his life? Surely he must have noticed all the chub, given that he seemed to be much more touchy-feely lately. It had to be a turn-off. He was probably hoping that Roy would do something about it, and sooner rather than later. And if it turned out to be later, what then?
Roy dropped his beefy ass on the edge of the bed and slumped over, dejected. The bed creaked loudly in protest, and Roy felt betrayed. Mirrors were assholes; everyone knew that. But beds? If you couldn’t trust your bed to cut you some slack, who would?
With all the depressing consequences of his fatness marching through his head in disheartening formation, he almost didn’t notice the bedroom door opening. He looked up to see his soulmate standing there in the doorway, a worried frown on his face.
“Roy? What’s wrong?” he asked, moving closer and kneeling on the floor to look up into Roy’s face.
Best to rip the bandaid off quick and get it over with. “I’m fat,” he blurted out, mortified.
An amused eyebrow tilted up. “Thank you, General Obvious.”
Roy frowned. “No, look at me. I’m obese. Overweight.”
“I am looking.” Admiring eyes roamed over Roy’s portly physique, and was that a gleam of appreciation?
Roy shook his head. How could he make his lover understand the seriousness of the situation? “Don’t you get it?” he said slowly. “I’m not just out of shape. I’m a full-fledged, certifiable two tonner.”
“So what?”
“What do you mean, ‘so what’? Look at me! I’m fat! A hunk of blubber! A barrel of lard!”
“I mean it Roy. So what? Yeah, you’re a bit on the heavy side, but you’re also still you underneath. You’re the same intelligent, manipulative, procrastinating, debonair sex maniac I fell in love with. Except now, there’s more of you.” The man smiled, the hint of a blush blooming on his grinning cheeks. “And to be perfectly honest, I’m really into your new packaging.” He leaned up to nip at Roy’s lower lip as he reached to squeeze the bulge around Roy’s waist with both hands. When he continued, his voice was almost a purr. “I fact, I love it.”
Roy’s jaw dropped. “You . . . do?” he asked hesitantly, hopefully.
“Mmm.” The hands kneading Roy’s waist curved around to grope his butt. “Very much.”
Roy’s sigh of relief was much louder than he would have liked. Not that it mattered; the other man was fondling his love handles, moving from there to be distracted by the consistency and texture of his well-padded thighs. Who knows where this might have ended up, had Roy’s stomach not interrupted with a low growl to mention that all this soul searching was fine, but dinner would be infinitely finer.
“Don’t worry Big Fella,” the other man said, patting Roy’s tummy and pulling him to his feet. “We’ll get you something. Can’t have you wasting away on me.”
“I really do need to lose some of this,” Roy said, poking at his spare tire with a frown, then pulling on his robe before following along to the kitchen.
“That’s up to you.” His partner’s serious tone made Roy look up. “As far as I’m concerned, as long as you’re comfortable and your health is not affected, I don’t see this as a problem. I love you. All of you. No matter what.”
Roy was almost moved to tears.
Until that touching sentiment was followed up with a sharp smack to Roy’s voluptuous ass as he was ushered into the kitchen.
“Now come on, my buxom beauty.” A winning smile offset Roy’s annoyed frown. “Let’s eat.”
All ass-slapping aside, Roy decided that was a plan of action he could definitely get behind.
Which, of course, was part of the problem. Oh well. Tomorrow was another day. And if he had to live with the extra weight, that was fine too.
It just meant that now there was more of him to love.