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Aziraphale loved food.
All the options, so much flavors, mixing together and creating new ones. All those sweets, crunchy, soft, or cream filled. He loved all of them. Salty meals too and snacks, but specially his cocoa with marshmallows and whipped cream on the top.
He was enchanted by it all.
But it was just a part of the deal. He loved as well what food did to his body. A generous amount of food after a few hours of digesting could turn into fat, making his body plump up, thighs plusher and thicker, stout his arms and make them wiggle if moved with enough force, fingers pudgy and warm. Just his body being soft in a way that was so comforting and felt so right. He liked to think that his soft body could reflect his soft, angelic personality.
He said this to Crowley once, when they were three bottles of wine deep in the night. Crowley cackled at him for whole five seconds, and then said with a low, guttural voice, “It does”. And then they both burst out laughing drunkenly at the weird tone.
But, as scrumptious as it may be, he could only eat so much food till he grew bored of helping his hand to his mouth and went to indulge in another activity, and he wasn’t really fond of fatty, full of oil food to fatten up quickly.
Therefore, he wasn’t as soft as he might like, but his current plump figure should do, he guessed.
That same night, but five bottles in, a long while after they almost choked on giggling, he told this to Crowley, apparently that was a night of whining. And the demon didn’t answer but seemed deep in thought while sipping at his almost empty glass of wine.
“What if I help you?”, he said, in a conspirative way that suggested he was talking about murdering someone he particularly disliked and would enjoy lots to.
“Help me to what?”, answered Aziraphale, who had already distracted himself by trying to pour more wine to his glass and actually hit.
“To be…” Crowley trailed off, sticking his eyes to a point behind Aziraphale’s head. Aziraphale shook his head from side to side, trying to see what caught Crowley's attention, but there was nothing. Then, the demon remembered. “softer.”
Aziraphale smiled at that.
“Oh, dear. Would you?”
“Nnghyu. Yeah, ‘course. Why not? It’s, huh, gluttony after all, isn’t it? I’m a demon, tempter, and you're an angel, yadda yadda, also I love you, I’ll kill everyone on this room for you to eat their lunches.”
Listening fondly to the demon’s rambling, Aziraphale positively beamed at him.
“That’d be so kind of you! Oh, dear boy, this will be so exciting. When shall we start?”
Crowley winced at the four letter word.
“We’ll start as fast as we can”, he said .“The sooner you begin to eat, the sooner you’ll reach your ideal figure, angel.” Crowley entered his personal trainer mode.
Aziraphale only nodded, smiling happily and then sipped from his glass.
--
The next day, Aziraphale was calmly stocking the new fantasy books he’d recently received. He knew that this was Crowley's favorite kind of genre, as much as he denied it, so Aziraphale wanted to have a few just in case the demon was feeling like reading along him, on the bed maybe, both of them at night.
The sound of the bell ringing as the door got opened distracted him briefly from his task, and he went to the front room, finding the tall, slim gingerhead making his way towards him.
“Good to see you, Crowley”
“Whassup, angel of my life”, slurred the demon, while, noticed Aziraphale, balancing a large box on his arms. Crowley reached him and leaned over to peck him in the lips. Aziraphale smiled and so they both went to the back room of the bookshop.
“So”, began Crowley once they both were established on their favorite couch and armchair. “I have planned a schedule for the ‘Get Angel To His Plumpiest Form’ plan, A.K.A the GATHPF” he splattered a bit of spit at this and Aziraphale couldn't help his tee-hee. “Don’t laugh, it’s a great name!”
“It rather is, my dear. Now tell me, what is this schedule about?”
“Ah, well. I recall you told me that the main reason of your unplumpness”, another cute chuckle from the angel. “is because feeding yourself can be boring as fuck. Trust me, I know. That's why I don't eat. But! If you’ve got someone to feed you, you can keep your normal routine AND gain weight. I know, I’m a genius, can I hear your wahoos?”
“Wahoo, but.” began Aziraphale after doing a fistpump to the air. “Who will feed me?”
“Well, hello. Me”
“Oh”
“Oh?”
“Yes, oh. Won't you grow tired of doing this, dear? After all, it does get me bored, in the first place”
“Angel, I’d pay to watch you eat. And it being me? Feeding you? A fucking dream”
Aziraphale frowned slightly, and so did Crowley. Then Aziraphale smiled softly, and Crowley melted.
“We are going to start today, angelic angelness”, he spluttered, face red like his hair. “Right now, in fact”
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.
Crowley opened the large box, taking from it flour, eggs, baking powder, and various other baking items.
Aziraphale felt his heart swell.
“Oh, Crowley. You're so good to me”
“Shut it” Crowley said but then saw the delighted angel’s loving expression and just kept getting out a cake mould, muttering to himself that maybe he should have emptied the box in the kitchenette.
--
After a few hours, by late afternoon, Aziraphale stocked and restocked books, read some foreign manuscript, and began to reread his favourite romance novel book. All that time Crowley was on the kitchenette by the back room, baking biscuits, mixing chocolate with everything and filling up diverse kind of sweets, all of them for his angel. Every single one of them, all fed by him. The thought sent a shiver through his spine, with an anticipation to what was surely going to be a great show. According to his GATHPF plan, this rather large amount of food, varying from sweets to plates on different days, was supposed to be stored on his little cute angel’s stomach, from that very day to the next month. He was entirely sure that his angel would be WAY plumper by then, he couldn't wait.
When he made sure that every single sweet was ready, he cleaned the kitchenette and left it tidy, the various trays with sweets on every counter.
With a plate on hand, he went to the back room where Aziraphale was installed reading some romantic book of his. Perfect.
“My lovely angel”, he made a dramatic flouriture with his free hand towards the silver plate. “Your sweets.”
“Oh”, Aziraphale left his book on his lap for a moment to beam at Crowley.
“We are going to start the phase one of the plan, that is actually the only phase: feed the angle”
“Dear, don’t you mean…”
“No,” Crowley cut him off. “Now, all you have to do is mind your business and let the rest to me, alright?”, he said with an ending tone on ‘mind your business’ as in 'leave it all to me, for the love of someone, come on, please, angel'.
Aziraphale nodded, trusting him. He got back to his book and silence settled on the back room of the bookshop. Crowley took seat just beside Aziraphale, on the floor, and picked one single éclair.
“Open wide, Zira” Aziraphale snorted at the nickname but opened wide all the same. Crowley lifted the sweet and almost roughly stuffed it in the angel’s little mouth.
“Crowley!” His yelp was muffled by the smooth paste and chocolate and the giggling that escaped him, he used his short, chubby fingers to keep the sweet inside his mouth while Crowley laughed on the floor, the plate with éclairs high over his head.
After Aziraphale swallowed and Crowley calmed, he said, delighted:
“It’s delicious, Crowley!”
“Of course it is, I made it. And I’m sorry, as you just witnessed, the schedule explicitly says that each small food needs to be whole put inside your cute mouth”
“Oh, yes? Where is that schedule, dear? May I see it?”, said Aziraphale with a little smug smile.
“You may not” retorted Crowley while lifting another éclair, “Now…”
--
Three plates of sweet treats and half a romance book later, Aziraphale squirmed on his armchair, the waistband of his trousers plunging mercilessly on the skin of his sweet-packed stomach. But he didn’t ease it nor did he take his eyes off the words on his book. Crowley told him ‘mind your business’, using that kind of whiny tone of his that promised whinier whines if he did otherwise.
Currently Crowley was making him a cup of hot cocoa, ‘To raise our possibilities. We only got two more plates left, after all.’ Two full plates! Aziraphale wasn’t sure he could take much more of the delectable, creamy, and simply scrumptious buns that Crowley made just for him. Newly resolved to finish it all, he returned to the book. The man was about to make a big sacrifice for his lover after all, it was a good part in a slow burn.
Crowley returned with the fourth tray on his hand and a steaming cup of hot cocoa with tiny marshmallows on the other. He sat silently on his place on the floor and deposited the cup on his angel’s hand, picked a little strudel and neared it to Aziraphale’s plump lips. Aziraphale opened wide as he has been doing with all those trays and got the whole sweet on one bite. He allowed himself to savour the blooming taste of the apple filling when he munched it, closing his eyes briefly, moaning to himself, and then sipped from his cup to down it.
To that one followed seven more. Each more succulent than the previous. The cocoa was gone, and Crowley miracled it to the sink in the kitchenette along the now empty tray. Another one appeared on its place on the demon’s hand, this one full of palatschinken. Aziraphale’s mouth watered, any crepe-related sweet was a weakness of him. Although he felt like his middle could burst at any given moment with the smallest disturbance, he willed himself to open his lips to let the little crepes-relatives to his mouth, and chewed, and the taste was just so good. And his trouser button constricted painfully as the first little pancake landed on his already overstuffed stomach. Crowley noticed this, has since the third tray, but chose to enjoy the view rather than do something, after all Aziraphale apparently enjoyed the strain because he hadn’t say nor do a thing, just squirm a bit, move to have his butt almost on the border of the seat, wide his legs to give his bloated stomach a space to lay, and eat. And keep eating. And read that blasted book too. Crowley’d have to ask for it later, it seemed interesting.
He looked at the tray, there were only four little pancakes left, he glanced furtively at the angel, still deep on the novel, and then back at the tray. He miracled four more, thought better about it and miracled two extra. Yeah, ten is a good number. And surely Aziraphale wouldn't tell the difference between handmade and miracled ones. He fed them to the angel, watching intently his middle, where the waistcoat has gotten up with strained buttons, and exposed his trousers’ button and the waistband, that was impossibly taut against the light blue of his dress shirt. He waited a while, and massaged gently the side of the angel’s stomach, fully knowing that it must hurt again, Aziraphale sighed softly at the lose in pressure and looked at Crowley thankfully. He smiled at him with lovely rosy cheeks. They kept the eye contact while Crowley lifted the last pancake, the book forgotten, Aziraphale opened his mouth, received it with his tongue and chewed slowly. He was breathing a little hard, at last aware of the raised heaviness on his middle. But Crowley wasn’t done yet.
“Want one last cocoa, my angel?” he asked with a mischievous glistening on his eyes.
Aziraphale only nodded.
And one last cup of cocoa he had. He drank quickly, otherwise he was sure he couldn't down it.
When the beverage was warmly settled on the angel’s very full stomach, the poor trouser button decided, with a rip, finally snap and pop off its place, landing somewhere in front of Aziraphale.
Both angel and demon looked at the single ripped button on the carpet, though Aziraphale stopped looking in favor of seating heavily on the armchair, releasing an oof, his back resting barely on the backrest and more on the seat. But Crowley kept looking, wondering what the fuck was so exciting about a popped button lying on the floor. And his instant answer was: Huh, hello? It’s Aziraphale’s popped button, because it couldn’t hold anymore his super sweet-filled stomach, the one you caused, dummy. Now look at Aziraphale, he’s about full to bursting.
Crowley returned his gaze to the spent blond, more specifically at his trousers, where the zipper was slowly downing, letting plump meat out in display, with each heavy breath the angel took.
Crowley felt his face redden. He settled between the wide opened legs, and got a hand on each side of the overstuffed stomach, rubbing and relieving pressure.
“You did great, love”
“So did you, dear. Everything was sooo tasty” He said, enlarging the ‘so’ as Crowley rubbed particularly hard on a spot.
“Wanna go to bed? End your book while I sew your button for tomorrow’s meal?”
“Meal? Tomorrow?”
“Yes. You didn't think I’d only give you sweets, right?”
Aziraphale exhaled deeply, overwhelmed.