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Sherlock decided that in this instance it might prove far more beneficial to be direct. He couldn't afford to begin losing weight, not when he had worked so hard to gain what he had. Teenage metabolisms really were a nuisance...
And so he dressed in purposefully too small clothes, a pair of jeans that accentuated the padding added to his hips, muffin top blooming over the hem, rear seam stretched tight, his belly poking out roundly over the front to strain the buttons on his shirt. Lunchtime. He unpacked his own meal from home and ate the dismal offering of celery sticks, apple, and turkey wrap his mother had packed him. Then he spotted his soon to be feeder sitting at a table nearby with several burly rugby players. Did he play rugby? Well, he supposed he could put up with that sort if he had to, if it helped him with his experiment. The boy's hair was golden blond, his shoulders broad under a well fitting jumper. He was shorter than Sherlock remembered... Sherlock hung back, watching, gathering his nerve.
Then the boy laughed and his blue eyes were warm and kind, his face approachable. Sherlock fetched a suitably haughty expression on his face and puffed out his stomach, straining the buttons further. He ignored the shiver of arousal that sent through him. He walked up to the table, right beside his chosen feeder, his belly perfectly at eye level.
"Watson, right? Sorry, are you going to eat that?" Sherlock asked, pointing to the large piece of chocolate cake that was sitting on the boy's tray.
The blonde looked up, clearly startled. Then those deep blue eyes widened, traveling up Sherlock's middle to the man's face. Sherlock hoped that was a glimmer of recognition there. The other rugby players at the table sniggered and leered at Sherlock.
"Er, yeah. I was," said Watson, clearing his throat and making the others fall quiet, "If you want it though, you can have it. Ran out of money for lunch?"
"Yes, parents are insisting on sending me my own. Without dessert," said Sherlock, sighing in a put upon way and causing his belly to swell out for a moment.
"Ah, that is a shame. Here, go ahead," answered Watson, scooping up the cake on a napkin and passing it over. He grinned slyly, "I'm sure you need it more than I do in that case."
"Thank you," said Sherlock, grabbing the cake and hurrying back to his seat. It was rather dry and tasteless. But it was cake so Sherlock eagerly wolfed it down. He watched Watson... John Watson between bites. Well, he'd made the first move... all he could do now was wait for a response.
As it turned out, Watson surprised him. The very next day, just as Sherlock had unpacked his dismal lunch of rice cakes and a dab of white bean dip, the boy sat down beside him.
"Hi, mind if I eat with you?" he asked politely.
Sherlock shook his head. "Go ahead, Watson."
"Call me John."
"Certainly, John."
John glanced at Sherlock's lunch then chuckled, "Blimey, you weren't joking. Here, I got an extra sandwich. Hope roast beef and cheddar is alright."
"Oh, absolutely," Sherlock groaned, practically launching himself at it and taking a bite out of it with a groan.
John chuckled again and began toying with his boiled carrots. "I'm glad, you shouldn't have to go hungry like that."
Sherlock scowled through another bite and spoke as he chewed, "Well, I put on a few-mmph- pounds. Now my family thinks I'm getting fat so..." He jerked his head at his ignored rice cakes.
"Hm, that's rough," said John, eating his food so as to avoid staring at Sherlock, "I wouldn't call you fat at all. Maybe a bit chubby but it... you look fine."
"I know," said Sherlock, finishing up the butty with a contented sigh, "But that's not my problem."
"Hm?"
"I want to get fat, John," Sherlock explained, his tone growing low and deep, "I love it. I just want to get bigger and bigger and..."
Sherlock smirked as John's color rose. He looked ready to combust actually.
"Oh. Oh- you mean. Oh..." gasped John, looking over at Sherlock in astonishment, his pupils blown. It was a perfect response.
"Yes," Sherlock repeated, "Think you could... help me?"
"Oh, God yes."
And so it began. It turned out John loved bringing Sherlock food as much as Sherlock loved eating it. What began as an extra sandwich or slice of pizza soon turned into an entire extra tray of food. Plus John's dessert. John learned where Sherlock's locker was and surprised him with doughnuts or other pastries sometimes in the mornings. He'd bring him bags of crisps or sweets which Sherlock would munch on during the day. The young raven-haired teenager would return home happy and bloated, then pillage the cabinets for anything that might add to the calories in his stomach. It was blissfull. His trousers and jeans grew tighter and tighter, his shirts rode up and clung to his squashy sides and back as soft tiny baby rolls began to collect there. One particularly memorable day, Sherlock had eaten two large bakewell tarts for breakfast, snacked on biscuits for the rest of the morning, and then eaten two cheeseburgers, chips, an apple, two chocolate milks, and two brownies. John had to rub his belly for him to finish his vegetables(slathered in cheese), and then his button had given out and he and John had just stared at one another. Sherlock was too bloated to move so John had to heave him up and haul him to the boys loo where they snogged and stifled groans until they were late for their next period.
Sherlock couldn't honestly have felt happier after that. John was an excellent feeder. More than that he was kind... funny, and loyal. Sherlock found himself quite smitten with the handsome rugby player.
A few months after they had started dating, John texted Sherlock and invited him over for dinner at his house. His parents were out of town for the weekend and his sister, Harry, was going to her girlfriend's house. Sherlock accepted and John told him to ready his appetite. He was cooking him a full three course meal. God, he could cook too? Sherlock was in love...
He told his parents he was visiting a friend and snapped the door shut in their faces before they could protest. He then found John waiting for him on the corner on his moped and clambered on behind him. The machine whined and choked at the added weight but the trip wasn't far. It was over too fast really. He loved clinging onto John like this, his belly filling in the curve of the other man's spine perfectly.
John smiled and led Sherlock inside, holding him by the hand.
"You look great tonight. New trousers?"
"Yeah, had to go up a couple of inches," Sherlock replied, winking, "You... you look great too." He did. He always did.
"Thanks," chuckled John, "Dining room's in here. What do you think?"
"Oh... wow, John," Sherlock replied, taking in the spread. There were candles too, giving the small quaint room a warm homey glow, very much like the one John always seemed to exude. There were peppers stuffed with cream cheese and wrapped in bacon for the appetizer, thick mashed potatoes with greasy swirls of delicious melted butter, breaded pork chops fried to a perfect gold and some mixed veg for balance. Sherlock groaned. He was going to eat it all.
John served them both, poured Sherlock a drink and then sat to eat and chat. Sherlock was in heaven. A gorgeous meal cooked by a gorgeous John Watson. Everything was delicious and clearly rich in calories. Perfection.
"Hm, serious about feeding me up then?" Sherlock teased as John loaded seconds onto the man's plate as it began to empty.
"Very serous," John replied, grinning and kissing the mans cheek, "Eat up, little Piggy. We'll have you nice and fat yet."
Sherlock blushed and obediently tucked in, shifting in his seat as heat pooled in his belly. "Ah, yes, yes, John," he murmured, eating everything that was set in front of him.
John probed around Sherlock's belly after finishing his own smaller portion, fingers moving with loving gentleness.
"Hm, getting pretty round, aren't you?" he murmured, then squeezed a soft handful, "Flabby too. You're fattening up nicely. But I think you have a bit more room to grow yet, yeah?"
"Yeah," Sherlock answered, his eyes hooded, his belly heavy and spilling over his trousers again. He shoved more of John's fantastic cooking into his mouth, feeling his belly growing tighter and tighter, fatter and fatter.
Sherlock groaned and fell back panting as he finished yet another plateful, his belly pushing out against his shirt, untucking it from his trousers. He sighed as John unbuttoned his trousers.
"Ready for dessert?" he asked, kissing Sherlock gently. Sherlock just groaned, his head lolling. He burped.
John chuckled and cleared the plates, then returned bearing a truly excellent looking chocolate cake.
Sherlock wet his lips. Surely... he could manage that...
It turned out he could manage exactly half of it before His stomach began protesting too much. John had then packed it away and hauled his bloated boyfriend to his bed so he could stretch out and digest. Sherlock lay back, shirtless, groaning and squirming softly as John rubbed and kissed at his big fat belly.
"Oh, God, John... I'm such a hog," he breathed, burping again.
"Mm, yeah. My big gorgeous fat piggy, that's what you are," John chuckled, giving the man's belly a pat and then squeezing at every new little soft roll he could find. He kissed Sherlock's cheek. "You're perfect."
Sherlock hiccuped and smiled, turning dazed eyes over to John.
"I love you," he said softly. John blinked, freezing for a second. Then he positively melted.
"I love you too, Sherlock," John replied, then gave Sherlock the gentlest kiss he had ever experienced. Sherlock smiled drowsily.
"Thank God we're going to uni together next year," the darkhaired teen said, "My parents won't get in the way. We can do this every night."
John laughed, "God, Sherlock, how big do you want to get?" he asked, rubbing the man's belly again as he cuddled into his side.
"Enormous. Especially since I've found out how good your food tastes," Sherlock answered, grinning and laughing as well.
"Hm, alright then, Podgy," John teased, nuzzling into Sherlock's neck a moment before pulling back as a thought occured, "Speaking of... what do your parents think you're doing when you visit me?"
"I dunno," said Sherlock, smiling and laying back, "Not jogging certainly. I think they're confused. I'm spending more time out of the house but only getting fatter for it." He patted his belly. "I think they've almost given up. Or they're as sick of diet foods as Mycroft is."
John chuckled and nuzzled back into Sherlock. "And you don't care what they think?"
"Not in the slightest."
"Good on you."
Sherlock hummed and slipped his fingers into John's hair. Yes, just one more semester and they'd be off to uni. Sherlock could grow just as fat as he pleased. With John's help of course.
He found he couldn't have come to this conclusion without him.