Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Don’t Ever Expect Leftovers
Echoing through the ripples of time, amplified by the fuzzy muffle of blanketed snow, the dusky hue of the graying sky…one quiet, self-assured hum vibrated from the ribcage of a small being, completely enthralled in its self-appointed work. Soft blue gloves patted at the edge of a glistening block of transparent ice, nudging it into place. The crunchy carpet of snow bunched into little piles at the toes of matching blue boots as they dug in.
“Hmm-hmm, mm-hmm…”
One more push… Finally, the huge ice cube sank ever-so-slightly into an apparent dip in the ground, bringing the latched-on creature with it.
“AH!” At last, he pulled back, triumphantly planting fists on his hips. “THE SETUP IS FINALIZED! FOR NOW AT LEAST! NOW FOR THE TRIGGER FUNCTION! MWEHEH!”
Anyone would be shocked and a little frightened to see this short skeleton happily tromping through the wintery landscape…but after all, this was the world of monsters—the Underground—and Sans the Magnificent was probably one of its least-threatening inhabitants.
A wide, toothy grin spread across Sans’s skull, large, round, blue lights twinkling excitedly in his equally round eye-sockets. As usual, he was out recalibrating one of his favorite puzzles—a construct made specifically to confuse and befuddle any human being that might happen to stumble into Snowdin. It would hopefully stymy them enough to allow him time to capture them for the Queen and the Royal Guard…though it was actually a lot of fun, and he hoped they had fun at the same time. Real-life, active puzzles like these were such a blast! It was Sans’s life ambition to become part of the Royal Guard… He looked up to them more than anyone—well, except maybe his big brother, Papyrus.
With another little chuckle of glee, Sans looked over the puzzle components—five ice blocks almost as big as his body, sitting in depressed slots that they would slide into through the snow.
“GLORIOUS AS USUAL!” he announced to the empty air, and grabbed his blue cape, tied like a bandanna around his neck, dramatically tossing it in front of his body. This amazing battle suit was his new favorite thing… It was a costume he’d made together with his brother, but no one else needed to know that. A thick grey undershirt and elliptical shoulder-pads… Deep blue pants and a set of matching, lighter blue boots and gloves… Not to mention this fantastic cape… Sans was so in love with it, he hardly ever took it off… He’d been wearing it for three straight weeks now.
With a thrilled little grin and a glow of soft blue magic at his round cheekbones, he patted at the scrunch of the cape resting at his chest and whirled around. Behind him, he knew where the final button lied embedded in the ground, covered by snow. It was his trump card—the last piece of the incredible puzzle he’d spent so much time on. It just needed one small adjustment—one little test.
Quick as a wink and filled with buzzing anticipation, Sans plopped to his knees right next to it, reaching down to wipe the layer of soft, mushy snow away.
“IH!” Suddenly, a quick, sharp little pain stabbed at his waist, causing him to wince. Unlike most other skeleton, Sans’s face was astoundingly expressive—parts of his skull were surprisingly malleable, especially around his mouth and eye-sockets—able to fold and tuck into whatever shape he needed. And right now, they were twisting his teeth into a downward frown, one socket creasing inward with pain and confusion.
Experimentally, he leaned further downward, stretching his torso…and the pain came again, another tiny cry emitting from behind his teeth. No… He had an inkling what was causing this now, and it was something he definitely didn’t want to think about. He was going to have to face it sometime…but why did it have to be now?!
With a robust sigh, Sans pulled back, resting back on his femurs and his tucked-in feet. And begrudgingly, he picked up the hem of his grey shirt, peeling it up with two pinched fingers.
There, sticking out from the bottom of his sternum and filling in the gap between the ribcage and the pelvis, was a translucent blue jelly-like substance, reflecting the low light at its shiny surface, cushioning around his spine. All skeleton monsters had a construct like this—it was a physical manifestation of the magic gluing them together, and a small cushioned sack with which to store extra needed magic ingested through food. After all, skeletons were said to be some of the most magically powerful monsters in existence—aside from Boss Monsters, of course. While Sans was fairly proficient at using magic, he knew his brother was miles ahead of him in terms of sheer force and ability.
Yet somehow, he contained almost twice as much of this physical, gelatinous magic as he did. It piled on top of itself, forming a puffy little round mound, which wobbled when he ran. Almost like a fake approximation of a fleshy belly…plush and round and chubby. Most of the time, he didn’t mind it—it was just a part of him, and he’d always been that way, as long as he could remember. And actually, the slight jiggling felt kind of nice on his bones—little reverberations tremoring through him. Sometimes, he wished he was more svelte, more muscular and stately-looking… People tended not to take him seriously, with his stubby, portly figure. Fortunately, it usually didn’t last for long—after all, he could be a legendary hero at any size! But lately…
Carefully, Sans ran his fingers down the front curve of his soft gel-cushion…and they stopped just at the lip of his pants’ waistband. They were…really tight, the fabric pulled taut and squeezing into the puffy swell of magic. The button holding them closed was practically creaking and groaning, desperately struggling not to give under the force of the pseudo-flesh jammed behind it. They were squeezing him too tight when he bent in…sharply cutting into the middle of that protrusion, as if threatening to slice it in two. No wonder it was causing him pain…that thing was still a piece of his body, and he had just as much feeling in it as any other part.
But why…? This glorious battle body was less than a month old—it couldn’t have shrunken already! He never even put it in the washing machine—he preferred to wear it in the shower and wash it off while also washing himself. That left only one other uncomfortable option…….. He’d gotten bigger. But how?!
Sans could feel heat flaring up around his cheekbones, magically flushing with embarrassment. These magical extensions usually only grew larger when they were glutted and over-saturated with magic for too long. He hadn’t been consuming that much…had he?! No, no, it had to be some sort of shrinkage effect from the shower…the material probably hadn’t been equipped to handle that sort of soaking and re-stretching.
You’re just trying to deny it, a voice at the back of his mind said…but he chose to ignore it, desperately creating false explanations. Making up stories was something he was pretty good at.
Anyway, he definitely needed to do something about these pants if he wanted to actually get anything done now. Very, very gingerly, he inched the squeezing waistband down… sliding down, down…twinging with a little bit of pain…
“Uff!” Sans couldn’t help sighing when it finally popped off, situated around the very bottom of his pelvis now, letting the cyan blue sack hang freely and unrestrained. Oh, the relief from that pressure was heavenly. Though his hand slightly trembled, he pressed and rubbed over the area where it had been pinching him, finding the surface a little sore.
“PHEW!” He exclaimed aloud to himself. “THAT COULD HAVE BEEN BAD! BUT IT’S ALRIGHT NOW! I FOUND THE SOLUTION! MWEHEHEH!”
Reassured, Sans yanked his shirt back down and fixated back on the remainder of his puzzle. At last, he swept the powdery surface away, revealing a metal button about the size of a bathroom scale. It would depress when a human stepped on it, bringing his maniacal design to life and shuffling the ice blocks At least, that’s what he hoped—it hadn’t been completely tested yet.
Slamming his hands over it only caused a slight tremor and made them jitter in their slots. Hmm…what was wrong?
“OH, RIGHT!” Sans laughed at his foolishness, pushing himself back to his feet. “IT’S BECAUSE I’VE ALREADY SOLVED IT! NATURALLY! LOOKS LIKE I’M ONE STEP AHEAD OF MYSELF!”
His hands rested automatically at his hips—just a regular cool pose for him…but something felt weird. Specifically, something felt squishy.
Glancing downward, another magical blush pushed up over his face when he finally got a good look… Sure, it didn’t hurt anymore…but his magic belly-sack was showing, the lower part of it poking out below the hem of his shirt—a round little translucent curve.
“AAAAAAGH!” His frustrated cry echoed down the snowy cliff-side. That hadn’t been the proper solution at all. He’d relieved his pain, but he couldn’t go on like this! Look how sloppy and shameful he was, hanging out of his clothes like this! Disgusting. This was no way for a future Royal Guardsman to dress!
“NNNN…” His fingers clenched around the waistband, tugging it up… Up…UP?! It wouldn’t budge. It had moved up a centimeter and then just…stopped.
With the deepest inhale he could manage, Sans tried to flatten the little belly-thing, sucking it in as far towards his vertebrae as possible. Even then, he only managed to move the waistband another tiny centimeter. A little gap of the blue was still visible under his shirt.
His cheeks were burning by now, and he really just wanted to burrow himself in a snow pile. Become a snowman. Other monsters often said he looked more like a creature made of snow or marshmallows than a skeleton made of solid bone, anyway.
A pitiful whine whistled out from between his teeth—which he immediately reprimanded himself for. Why was he having these problems?! Someone as wondrous as he shouldn’t have to deal with things like this!
Finally, Sans just decided to open the stupid button. It was practically screaming and begging for release…he would just be putting it out of its misery.
“FF-HOO!” The wonderful feeling of relief flooded him again, and he had to admit that it was amazing. The small zipper of the fly unzipped itself right after, the flaps bending around the little puff of magic substance that slightly swelled out, making itself comfortable. Now maybe…
Tugging up on the open waistband, Sans managed to lift it to his waist again, though it certainly didn’t even come close to meeting itself. However… Pulling down with all his might, he managed to stretch his shirt out, reaching the hem to the very bottom. There!
With a huge, ecstatic grin, he noticed that the blue was finally completely covered! While his shirt felt extra stretched-out, and it would probably slide back up again if he so much as lifted his arms to his shoulders, it was finally concealed and comfy enough to work in. He’d just have to keep checking on it and pulling it back down.
“AHA! ANOTHER VICTORY FOR THE MAGNIFICENT SANS! CLOTHING SHALL NOT BE MY DEFEAT ON THIS DAY! AND IT NEVER SHALL! …STRANGE, WHEN WE MADE THIS BATTTLE BODY, I DID NOT IMAGINE THAT IT WOULD BATTLE ME!” He was talking out loud to himself again…but he was his own best audience, anyway.
Breaking into delighted hums and little chuckles of “mweehee!”, Sans set about the task of moving the ice blocks yet again. He was strong, yes, but they were almost as big as he was, and it took quite a while to drag them to the desired locations. A lot of things would be so much easier if only he was as tall as Papyrus. Yet, Papyrus squandered his vertically-gifted body by doing as little with it as possible. Sometimes, Sans wished they could switch bodies, just for a little while, so he could get things accomplished. Oh, well. Doing all the things he did as his size just made him all the more incredible!
Two, three blocks all set… Two more to go. Taking a breather, Sans leaned against the last one he’d pushed, wiping the forehead of his skull. Happy sweat of a good day’s work. Ahhh, it felt so satisfying. But suddenly…
A little rolling, bubbling feeling came from somewhere within him, and a strange noise reached his hearing sense. Rrrggl grrm…
A hand automatically pressed to the center of his pseudo-stomach, which he’d identified as the source of the noise. It did that sometimes…sometimes when it was starting to run low on magic, maybe as a sort of warning or a protest. Whatever it was, it was a definite sign that he needed to eat.
“I’M HUNGRY?” he questioned. “WHAT TIME IS IT? FOR HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN WORKING?”
Though he felt his clothing shuffle and a tiny sliver of blue peek out, he rummaged through his pocket and extricated a tiny, round pocket-watch. Papyrus had given it to him at Gyftmas one year—he’d apparently found it in Waterfall and fixed it up. And for Papyrus to actually do anything was simply astounding.
“SIX?!” Sans cried in alarm, jolting away from the ice block previously under his elbow. “FOR TRULY TRUTH?! AAAAAAAAAAAHHH! I MUST GET HOME AND PREPARE DINNER! I BET MY BROTHER IS STARVING, WAITING FOR ME ALL THIS TIME!”
Barely taking the time to stuff the clock back in his pocket, he broke into a frenzied sprint, boots pounding over the snow and kicking up white dust. “OHGOODNESS OHGOODNESS OHGOODNESS!! GRACIOUS ME!! HOW DID LOSE ALL TRACK OF TIME?! I’M THE MOST IRRESPONSIBE CHEF!!” The rest of the puzzle would have to wait until tomorrow—some things were a little bit more important.
And as Sans sped off, through the wintery area, past fluffy white dogs and snowflake-headed birds, over fields of ice and painted-on bridges and tired jets of howling wind he’d set up himself…knots of excitement and anticipation twisted through his gelatinous middle. Dinner time was almost here!
(-)
When Sans finally arrived at the log cabin he shared with his brother in Snowdin Town, Papyrus was standing around outside as usual, staring blankly into the sky and lazily puffing on a cigarette. Sans wished he would give up that filthy habit, but at least he was honoring his wishes and not doing it in the house.
The taller, older skeleton had his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his orange hoodie, and he wore a pair of baggy khaki shorts and floppy sneakers. The cigarette was clenched in his long, large teeth, nearly breaking apart, and his small, oval eye-sockets were unfocused. Oh no, no, no, no—he better not be upset or disappointed that Sans was so late!
“PYRUS!!!” Sans practically screeched, once he was in view, only slowing his panicked dash by a margin. “DINNERTIME!! I’M LATE I’M LATE I’M SORRY! I GOTTA START THE TACOS!!”
“eheh.” Papyrus’s sockets turned towards him now, back in the present, and he genuinely smiled. “chill, bro, it’s fine. just “taco” your time.”
“THAT WAS HORRENDOUS AND YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED!”
Papyrus shrugged. “just wait “tortilla” i get going.”
“YOU’RE LUCKY I LOVE YOU!” Sans ploughed straight through the front door, zoomed to the kitchen, and screeched himself to a halt right in front of the stove, arms flailing and catching his balance.
“Hah…hah…” He huffed, out of breath from all that running…but his eyes were still lit up brilliant blue and sparkly, his toothy grin taking up nearly half his face. “EEEEEEEEEE, TACO TIME!!”
Next to puzzles, and his brother, of course, tacos were Sans’s favorite thing in the whole universe. In a whirl of over-excited activity, he whipped on an apron, tossed pans and plates and utensils onto the counter, and rubbed his gloved hands together, looking over his glorious workspace. “COOKING TIIIIIME, COOKING TIIIIIME…”
Since the Royal Guard Captain, Alphys, had started teaching him how to prepare food, cooking had become another of his favorite activities. It was sooooo fun, and left you with something soooooo yummy at the end! How could anyone find it boring?! Well, Papyrus would probably say that it was way too much effort, when he could just pop something into a microwave instead, but the effort was part of what made it taste so delicious!
Sans slammed open the refrigerator and pulled out a large hunk of something pink and mushy, wrapped in plastic wrap. Synthetic beef, processed from various plant materials and vegetables. Almost all monsters were vegetarians, mostly because eating an animal would be too close to eating one of their own kind…….but that didn’t mean they couldn’t indulge in meat-like tastes, expertly produced in Hotland laboratories! Alphys provided him with a lot of his taco meat, which she said she stocked up from a friend living near those labs. The slab today was a bit larger than his usual package—this time, he planned on having leftovers, that way Papyrus could still eat, even when he wasn’t around to cook a fresh batch.
With a merry hop, Sans plopped the meat substitute onto the counter, and then slid a plastic stepstool over between his feet. The plastic squeaked a little as he stepped onto it, but it gave him a much greater vantage point from which to work. Cooking while barely being able to reach the counter was a little too much of a challenge…
And at last, he set about the thrilling, joyous task of creating a vast number of his very favorite treat, a fluttering little hum effortlessly floating out of him. Unwrapping the cool meat, chopping and mincing and fluffing, plopping it into the frying pan, dousing it in oils and just a little dash of pepper. Then came his absolute favorite part.
Twirling and waving his hands and humming along to a beat only heard in his head, Sans dug two spatulas into the pan, mixing and tossing and shaking the huge clump of ground-up fake-beef. A few tiny pieces of it splattered against his chest, but that was okay—that was what the apron was for, after all!
The poor little plastic stool shuddered and squeaked underneath his movements. He was practically dancing around on it, though it was a good thing he didn’t try to jump, or else it would have collapsed for sure.
The clumps were quickly browning, frying to perfection, and a heavy, oily, warm aroma filled the house, so thick and overwhelming that Sans’s magical stomach made eager little rumbly sounds again. Almost theeeeeeere…
A click announced Papyrus’s re-entry, apparently finished with his smoke break. His lanky body paused in the doorway, lifting his skull and deeply sniffing through his nasal cavity. “smells pretty good, bro.”
“OF COURSE! IT IS MAGNIFICENT MEAT, EXPERTLY SEASONED BY THE MAGNIFICENT SANS! ALL FOR CREATING THE MOST TREMENDOUS TACOS THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN! THE SCENT ALONE SHOULD DEFINITELY LEAVE YOU SALIVATING IN RATUROUS AWE!”
“but we don’t even have saliva, dude.”
“SPEAK FOR YOURSELF.”
Before he could change his mind, Sans flung one spatula to his mouth…and a tiny, stubby, blue, jellified tongue poked out from between his teeth, taking a little lick. It was made from the same substance as his stomach, and though it wasn’t necessary at all to his system, it served to extend his sense of taste, adding just a little more of that physical dimension to it. Every skeleton monster could do that as well, though…most chose not to.
“yeah.” Papyrus shrugged again in response. “too much work for me. it takes enough effort just to chew.”
“GOOD GRACIOUS, CAN YOU GET ANY LAZIER?!”
“…probably. but that would also take effort.”
Sans rolled his round, blue eye-lights and continued patting at his mound of frying meat.
“call me when ‘s ready.” Papyrus trudged over to the lumpy red couch in the center of their living room, curling his long body onto it. “’mgonna take a nap.”
“OH MY GOD, IT’LL BE READY IN FIVE MINUTES!”
“welp, that’s five minutes that i could spend asleep.”
“OH MY GOD.” Sans fiercely shook his skull. The heck with him. If he wanted to sleep away this moment of miraculous creation, well then, his loss.
His body was quivering and tingling with excitement as he turned down the stove, leaving the meat lump to warmly simmer, and hopped off his stool to gather the rest of the ingredients in a whirlwind of glee. Tomato pieces and cheese shreds and lettuce leaves and beans and onion strings and guacamole and sour cream and hot sauce and even more melty cheese… A veritable smorgasbord of toppings was spread out onto the small table they usually shared meals at, and Sans felt the knot of hunger squeeze through him again at the sight of it all. Today, he’d decided to do it buffet-style. They could make up their tacos however they wanted them—though Sans knew he’d be having some of everything, because it was just too good to choose between a few.
Then came the shells—two long stacks of them, one crunchy, the other softer and mushy. Sans loved both hard tacos and soft tacos, but he at least wanted to offer his brother a choice. And maybe have a little of each, because they were both so good.
Plates and bowls and serving forks and napkins were set out, and he continued humming and twirling as he did so. Each topping sat heaping out of its little plastic tub, tantalizing, glistening mounds of goodness. At last, he flicked off the stove and scraped the beef from the pan, creating a fluffy brown mountain of meaty heaven…and plonked it down in its heavy bowl at the very center of the table.
“TACOS!!!!!” Sans practically shrieked, leaping for joy in the doorway and flailing to catch his sleepy brother’s attention. “TACOS ARE READY! PYRUS, GET UP! TACOS!!!”
“yeh, yeah, okay, i heard ya. good thing i don’t have eardrums, huh?”
Slowly moving his long limbs, Papyrus stretched back up, rubbing one small, tired-looking eye-socket. But at the sight of his overexcited little brother, he couldn’t help but grin, resting bony elbows to bony knees. “little overzealous maybe? we have tacos every day, bro.”
“BUT IT’S EXTRA SPECIAL THIS TIME!!” Little Sans was bouncing as Papyrus lethargically made his way to the kitchen. “BEHOLD!” As soon as his oversized sneaker stepped past the threshold, Sans zipped to the head of the table, sweeping his cape and his apron out wide towards the spread, for dramatic revealing effects.
“ah, so you’re doing a make-your-own kinda deal? nice. how very thoughtful.”
“NATURALLY!! LEAVE IT UP TO THE GRACIOUS AND BENEVOLENT SANS! MWEEHEE!!”
The small skeleton’s eye-sockets screwed closed, round cheekbones bluer than ever. He was just way too excited for this, and Papyrus couldn’t help chuckling at it. It was amazing, how hyped up he could get over something as simple as tacos. Privately, he wished he could have just a fraction of that sort of joy for the world. That was probably why he loved to see his brother this way, more than anything.
At last, Papyrus sat at his side of the table, half-slumped and loose. “can’t wait to dig in. i know my bro is one shell of a good cook.”
“YOU ARE EGGS-ACTLY CORRECT!” Sans was too ecstatic to scold him for the pun, or to even notice that he’d replied with a pun in return, though it had nothing to do with tacos. Swiftly, he removed his apron, sliding it through the fridge handle, as a reminder to wash it later. And he threw himself into his seat, almost vibrating from the sheer overstimulation.
“alright.” Papyrus leaned easily across the table, taking up his first hard shell and sliding over the small tub of green. “lettuce begin this taco night!”
“MWEHEHEHEHEH!” Sans ravenously set about composing his own tacos, briefly standing up in his chair to reach everything. Papyrus pushed containers over towards him when he could, since he’d already fixed up his first one.
As he put together his tacos—two hard and two soft to start—Sans’s small tongue poked out with concentration. It was taking all of his willpower to wait until they were fully finished—part of him wanted to smush it all together and eat it right now, straight out of the bins.
The first taco was piled up with nearly every topping, a few bits of lettuce and a couple of beans tumbling out of the overstuffed shell. The next featured hot sauce and extra cheese—a hot, cheesy special. The next—onions and sour cream, evening it out. Then finally another fully loaded shell, bursting with flavor. Sans could feel his tummy bubbling inside him with eager hunger. It softly grumbled again, as if pleading for the tasty food in front of it. At last, they were done!
“MMMMMM!” Sans exclaimed, as the very first big, crunchy bite filled every corner of his mouth. Oh, it was pure ecstasy. Incredible, spicy, crumbly, delicious relief. His round face was glowing as he devoured the first heaping taco, munching and mumbling delighted noises against the influx of yummy sustenance.
From the opposite end, Papyrus was chuckling through a slowly chewing mouthful. He ate about thrice as slow, only about halfway through the taco he’d made, though Sans was already starting on his second. “that good, huh? i shouldn’t be surprised.”
“MM-HM!” Sans’s emphatic agreement was muffled by another eager mouthful of taco—this one squishy and melty and divine. Beneath him, the gnawing little sore spots in his stomach were being soothed away, placated by the little dollops of magical substance being deposited into it. The hungry feeling wasn’t completely gone yet, but the desperation was edging away, and it felt oh so wonderful.
In just a few more bites and a gulp, the second taco had disappeared into him, and he snatched up the third, squishing it straight into his face and giggling in mirth.
Meanwhile, Papyrus was having a great time just watching this… The sight of his dear little brother so incredibly happy…it warmed the insides of his heart, bringing it back to life again, reminding him that he still had feeling, he still had affection deep in there. Little Sans’s blissful, blushing face, munching and crunching through his own cooking filled him with happiness in return. That face was practically what he lived for. His brother’s happiness was all he needed for his life to feel fulfilled.
Soon enough, Sans was fixing up four more tacos, slightly less overstimulated now, but still just as ecstatic. The end of taco number five for him equaled the end of taco number one for Papyrus. The two skeletons barely spoke, happily eating away in the warm, bright kitchen, and just basking in the comfort of each other’s company.
Gradually, Sans eased into a steady pace, just pushing one delicious bite after another past his teeth. His hunger had all smoothed away, leaving him with just the addictive push for more. More of that taste, more of that texture, more of that motion, the comfortable repetitive motion of chewing and swallowing.
Taco number six went down, loaded with guacamole, then squishy taco seven, extra cheese and sour cream squirting across his cheekbones as he bit into the puffy pocket of tasty beef and tomato and so much cheese. His fingers delicately pinched around number eight, lifting it to his teeth with tender reverence, briefly licking at a drop of sauce that had spilled over the edge. Nibbles and crunches and smooth, piping, poking taste…folding little scraps in…feeling each tumbling into small bundles of magic, tiny packets buzzing with potential… So yummy, so yummy, so good, so good, so perfect… He never wanted this to end.
At last, Sans halted when his second plate turned up empty, and he took a brief pause, glancing across the table to see how his brother was doing. He hoped he was enjoying it just as much as he was!
“……….Uh…?” Sans’s heart sank when he noticed something…kind of distressing. His blue eyes widened in their black sockets, his mouth stretching downwards, moldable brow knitting with concern. “P…PYRUS? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? IS IT NOT…GOOD ENOUGH?”
Half of an uneaten taco rested on Papyrus’s plate, and he was busy idly sliding through text on his cell phone, eyelids starting to droop. “huh? oh.” At the sound of his voice, he looked up, immediately brightening as much as he usually ever did. “nah, it’s great, sans. it really is. this is probably your best taco night yet—it’s really delish. i’m just not all that hungry, is all. can’t seem to stomach a second one. my belly’s just as lazy as the rest of me.”
A wide, toothy grin accompanied his proclamation, and so Sans recognized the expression as earnest and truthful. He wasn’t covering up his dislike of the tacos…he just really didn’t want to eat anymore.
With an annoyed huff, Sans crossed his arms across his chest. “I SWEAR—THOSE NOXIOUS FUME STICKS OF YOURS ARE RUINING YOUR APPETITE! HOW MANY TIMES NOW HAVE YOU REFUSED MY FOOD JUST BECAUSE YOU’VE BEEN OUT THERE, DOING THAT? YOU CAN’T LIVE ON SMOKE, YOU KNOW!”
“yeah, i know…” Papyrus turned away for a second, looking slightly forlorn. “maybe someday, okay? in some world, i’ll surely manage to quit.” A moment, later, his grinning face turned back to him, winking with delight and encouragement. “so it’s a good thing you’ve got enough appetite for the both of us.”
Hot, glowing blue blush bloomed over Sans’s round little cheekbones, and his wide eye-lights shifted down towards the edge of the table, shyly. “…I DON’T EAT THAT MUCH…”
No, he didn’t…did he? Six tacos really wasn’t too much—it was just a normal meal. Wait…he had eaten just six, right? It was six, wasn’t it…?
“sans…” Papyrus softly reached a hand towards him, a gentle gesture expressing his care and concern. He hadn’t meant to upset him—it was just a little joke, a little friendly jibe at him. The last thing he ever wanted was to make him self-conscious. “it’s really healthy for you to eat a lot. you need a lot of energy—lots of energy for you to perform your feats of brilliance! i don’t do nothin’, so i seriously don’t need it.”
”HMMM…” Sans paused to consider this angle, rocking slightly in his seat as he mulled it over. “…I SUPPOSE THAT MAKES SENSE.”
“sure does.” Reassured, Papyrus retracted his arm, tucking it back into his hoodie. With a little tilted nod of his head, he indicated the remaining mound of beef and taco shells. “if ya want anymore, go ahead. bone appetit.”
“…I SHALL IGNORE THAT HORRENDOUSLY UNINSPIRED PIECE OF WORDPLAY FOR NOW… BUT YES, I THINK I CERTAINLY WILL!”
Sans’s fingers tingled and trembled in his gloves as he put together his next piled-up plate of tacos. Who cared if he had a big appetite? Athletes and warriors and soldiers usually did. It was only fair compensation for the amount of labor they put into their jobs each day. To keep healthy and robust!
Newly emboldened, he scooped up a fresh crunchy-shelled taco and rapidly bit through it, chomping its bounty down into tiny shreds before it transmuted into goopy magical substance on the way down. More… More, more! More to come! It never needed to stop.
Giddy with food-induced bliss, Sans slipped back in his chair, pulling his plate to the very edge of the table, and carried on nibbling and sucking and crunching and giggling his way through each carefully-crafted taco.
From his new vantage point across the table, Papyrus’s brow slightly raised. Baggy orange sleeves folded across the table, slightly leaning in to get a better look. Huh. Apparently, Sans hadn’t even noticed yet, but…
The soft, bluish light of his round little magic tummy was poking out between the flaps of his opened pants (when had that happened?), and nudging his grey shirt upwards a tad. The gentle light of all the food energy churning within it was kind of soothing. It looked beautifully content……it looked full. But Sans was still lost in his dreamy paradise of spicy tastiness, pushing handfuls of taco into him as if it was still empty.
Nevertheless, Papyrus decided not to say anything—he’d already upset him enough. And honestly, he loved seeing him eating to his heart’s content like this…heedless to the rest of the world around him and completely focused on his own pleasure.
Another taco disappeared…then another…and the exposed gap of skelly belly seemed to grow a little wider.
“Hmmp! Ufff… Ih!” He had to notice it now…right?
Sans was emitting strange, soft little noises, panting a tiny bit and pulsing, gulping and mumbling. There was no way he couldn’t feel the amassed energy of a dozen tacos swirling within him. But no…
With a little grunt and a huff, Sans rolled himself forward, the crest of his belly lightly bumping the table…and began fixing up even more tacos, loading up the shells with scoops and scoops of the remaining fillings, though he was moving noticeably slower now.
Even though he felt a little bit heavy, Sans beamed at his newest plate once it was done, delighted blue dust flecking his cheekbones. Sitting back again with a weighty sigh, he picked up the next taco, considering a moment.
Less than a second later, he was lifting the entire plate, tipping it in towards him…and his face met the cascade of crunchy, crumbly, yummy pieces, letting them tumble into his mouth and munching, munching, munching them down. The magical contents of his feast pressed down into the already overfilled little sack, and as each taco gradually plopped inside, it bulged and stretched a little further. That shirt slowly inched its way up as the roundness underneath it slowly expanded, like a swirly, glowy, heavy balloon.
Quiet moans mumbled from Sans between his inundated gulps and chomps. The membrane of his magic belly was getting tight, as it struggled to make some more room. Yet, he still continued filling it, at a slow, but steady, even pace.
By the time the plate was finally empty, that magic-filled belly was almost halfway exposed, his shirt bunching up at his chest, the hem almost at the bottom of his ribcage. Or…where his ribcage would be, if it were still visible through the densely-packed parcel of blue substance grumbling at his waist.
Sans’s eyes half-closed, sleepily, and he panted and licked a couple of stray dollops of sour cream from the edges of his stretchable jaw. Was…that it? Was that all? Was it done? He didn’t want it to be over—he’d loved every second of it.
He felt so…warm, now, and heavy. It was a little weird, but very, very comfortable. He could go on eating tacos forever like this, if only…
Curiously, Sans turned his head down to the table to see what else was left… Only two more taco shells were sitting in their plastic package…only a little bit of the meaty mush seemed to be left in the bowl. Just a little.
He…might as well…finish it off, right? It’s just a bit…
“RRRRRRF!”
Hiding his flabbergasted expression behind a sleeve, Papyrus watched as Sans hauled his bloated little body forward once more, exhaustedly filling in the two remaining taco shells with most of what remained in the tubs. He was actually going to eat them?! He looked stuffed to the gills… But apparently, he either didn’t notice or just didn’t care.
Strange, when he’d been whining about not having a big appetite earlier. But secretly, he thought he should make sure not to tease him about it again, if this was how much he naturally wanted to eat.
With more grunting and little moans and one tiny, quiet hiccup, Sans finally grasped the completed tacos, overstuffed with everything that was left, and eased himself back against his chair, not even bothering with a plate this time. They rested on the swollen top curve of his taco-stuffed tummy…soon to join their brethren.
Though his bright eyes were hazy and drowsy, he softly chuckled as he gazed down at the fat little tacos, affectionately. His precious prize…the very last ones. And then…he pushed the end of the first one into his mouth.
“Mmmmnnnhh…” It wasn’t so easy for him to swallow anymore, and bits of squishy meat and beans and lettuce spread over his teeth, unable to find enough room in his mouth. But slowly…lethargically…completely enraptured in this moment…he sucked it down. Piece by piece…little scrap by scrap…
“Nnnnfff…” Sans moaned as soon as the last piece pushed inside, his cheeks bulging to contain the last bite… But his hands immediately lifted the second taco, poising it ready for when he could swallow this one down.
Papyrus could see the gooey, viscous substance shifting and gently rolling within him, pushing itself around in order to welcome even more inside. Pressing up against the resilient walls of its membrane. More.
With moans and gulps and little gurgling noises from his unhappy, stretching tummy, Sans laboriously made his way through the final taco. A short breath, and his shirt flipped all the way up, resting at the curve just where the inflated blue ball jutted out from his ribs. More.
Pressing, squeezing, stuffing, jamming, hotly squishing… More.
With a smack!, the final bite popped into his mouth, his fingers chasing after it. And with one final heave…it went in.
“Mmm…” Sans’s skull flopped back against the chair, completely spent. His sockets rolled closed. And his big, round belly rested heavily on his femurs, so tight and ripe and glutted with food.
Frankly, Papyrus was impressed…and a little worried. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, by any means. In fact, ever since moving to Snowdin, Sans had been eating to excess… But this was still a pretty big binge for him…
For a few silent moments, he just let him rest, enjoying the sight of him basking in his own overindulgence and listening to the intermittent burbles of that engorged tummy-sack rolling its squeezed contents around. It was nice, though…to see him this way. He knew that Sans didn’t overeat out of any sense of depression or emptiness…but just because he was so happy and so overzealous about food. It was a sign of such happiness and contentment…and though it might be a problem if it happened too often, it was still a wonderful sight to see.
Finally, with a heavy heart, he knew it was time to actually get things moving, as much as he’d love to just sit here forever, himself. “……hey, sans?”
“…..uh?” Sans’s eye-sockets cracked open, the blue lights gradually growing. “Hfff…uff…um…w-what…?” His voice was winded and much, much softer than normal. But it seemed he was “waking up” now…coming back from his taco-induced trance.
Those eyes widened…innocently blinked once…and all of it fell down on him, like the hefty weight in his gut. “U-uh, uh, a-a-ahhh…Ah!” Blush flared into existence across his face, spreading out and deepening, almost reaching all the way up his skull. His limbs began to tremble, his brows molding and knitting upwards. His gloved hands fumbled with the bunched fabric of his shirt, yanking it down his bulbous middle as far as it would go…which was only to the indent of his phantom bellybutton, before it quickly began creeping upwards again. Poor Sans was furiously flushing and beginning to sweat, desperately humiliated by the state he found himself in.
With careful, yet scrabbling movements, he pushed his bulk up in the chair, sitting straight again, which caused his belly to squish outward another centimeter. “Llp, ooff… Oowww…m-my belly…” At last taking heed of the offending construct, Sans moved his hands, gently cupping its bloated mass and very lightly rubbing at it in circles. “H-H-How much…” Gasp. “How much did I eat?”
“ummmmm…” Papyrus turned his skull, lazily surveying the messy tubs and plates and empty plastic wrap strewn over the expansive table. “everything. pretty much. aside from my one and half, that’s like eighteen tacos.”
“Ahhhhhhh…!” Sans’s rubbing grew a little more vigorous and purposeful, trying to soothe the pain of his too-tight magical membrane…pain that he was only now truly noticing. It was so achy and pinching and hard… Packed-tight magic substance bubbled and churned under his fingers, producing little noises, as if grumbling in complaint at having to work so hard.
“And I…uhh…wanted to have…leftovers… W-Why’d I have to…ihff…go and eat all of it…”
Papyrus shrugged. “looked like you were enjoying yourself.”
“Rrrrrgh!” With an angry shove, Sans forced himself to his feet, though he winced in pain and held on to his tummy as it heavily hung out of his pants. “G-gotta…gotta clean this up…”
One shaking hand reached for the nearest empty tub, but in flash, Papyrus was bending over him, snatching that hand away. “relax, bro. we can take care of that later. you’re in pain right now, and you need to rest. you’re just going to make yourself sick if you try to do all that now.”
“B-But…” Sans’s large eye-lights dropped to his big balloon of a belly, weakly giving it a massage. His body’s trembling intensified…droplets of pastel blue began to well up at the bottom edges of his sockets. “I-I-I-I-I…I-I…I got FAT, Papyrus! I’m FAT! I’m so fat…”
“shhhh. calm down, sans…” In desperation, Papyrus gently clutched Sans’s shoulders, hoping to stop him before he worked himself up so much that he ended up making all that magic come back out. “shhhh, you’re not…”
“Y-you can’t say I’m not fat! I just ate eighteen tacos, for goodness’s sake! EIGHTEEN! Ow…!”
Clenching in, Sans cradled his stuffed roundness, dangerously shaking…and Papyrus pulled him closer, bringing him into a very gentle, loose hug. “sans, it’s fine. it’s totally fine that you eat a lot. hey, like i said, you need it. you need all the magic, and all the food, you can get. all that’s gonna come in real handy when a human comes. just you see…”
“P-pyrus…hic!” A few tears spilled over, but Sans’s trembling was lessening. “B-But…but I can’t…uff…fit into my pants anymore… This morning, I… They were…t-too tight, and I…ic! I…”
“who cares?” Squeezing his fingers a little, Papyrus massaged his distressed little brother’s shoulders, offering a caring, gentle grin. “’sjust clothes. i break my clothes all time. i used to outgrow my clothes like every month, remember? we’ll make some new ones soon, alright? promise.”
“Mm…Pyrus….” A few more little tears chased the first ones down the curves of Sans’s face. But at the same time, a trace of a smile was beginning to break out. The shaking was settling, smoothed away with care and reassurance. “…thanks… Ilp!”
“let’s get you onto the couch to rest for a little while.” With a final small pat to his back, Papyrus pulled back and curled around, one arm wrapping down around the back of his shoulders for support. “i’m sure, if you just rest, you’ll feel better pretty soon.”
“Y-yeah…okay…” With careful, waddling steps, Sans made his way into the parlor, guided by his taller older brother…and they both lightly sank down into the cushions, making the old couch creak in protest.
“look, see? it’s just in time for napstaton.”
Sans’s eyes lit up with twinkles when Papyrus pressed the TV remote and a metallic orb appeared on the screen in front of them, spinning turntables and bopping its noodly arms along to the beat. Napstaton was his absolute favorite television celebrity, after all—resting was alright, if he could spend it watching the circular robot work his magic.
Finally, Sans tucked his legs in, curling into the couch and slightly leaning against Papyrus’s arm. His overstuffed tummy was comfortably cradled in his lap, softly glowing and glurping as it settled itself once more.
Meanwhile, Papyrus slumped back, tucking his arms into his hoodie and assuming full loafing-around mode, barely watching or caring about the program. A moment later, he noticed Sans making those strange half-choking, gulping noises again…and realized what it must be.
“just let it out, bro. it’s fine.”
“N-n-no…” Sans stubbornly shook his head, hot blush resuming. “That’s…that’s gross.”
“nobody’s here to hear you. ‘cept me. and we both know i’m no body.”
Sans shot him a miffed expression, though he was still blushing, and he chuckled, scratching the back of his skull.
“…and i won’t tease you about it, if that’s what you’re worried about. promise. just let it. i guarantee you’ll feel loads better.”
With a small shift against his arm, Sans turned his head away…focusing back on the Napstaton show and trying to avoid thinking about it. His small hands gently massaged up over his achy, overblown belly. Soothingly caressing over the round, taut membrane. Softly calming it and placating it. And then…
“Ah—urrrrp!” It wasn’t too loud—a few decibels below his regular speaking volume—but it was still plainly heard, drowning out the beeping of the robot’s speech for a second. And Sans buried his face in his brother’s baggy sleeve with utter shame. Burping straight out loud like that…it made him feel like such a slob.
But Papyrus only smiled a little, opening one eye to glance sideways at him. With the opposite arm, he reached over…and gave a very gentle little pat to the stuffed, swollen little tummy. “there you go.”
Sans quietly whimpered and burped a tiny bit again, though Papyrus didn’t even bat an eye. But…he was right. A miniscule amount of the pressure inside him had been relieved…it didn’t feel quite as sharply taut anymore. One small level of pain had lifted away.
A few silent moments later, Sans came out from behind his brother’s sleeve again…calming, slipping into comfort. His hands continued idly rubbing as he watched the Napstaton Music Mix Hour, and a few more burps popped out here and there. It really did feel better.
He was still pretty ashamed of himself, but at least he was beginning to accept that it was okay…right now. He’d…enjoyed himself, after all. Indulged a little. All of those incredible tacos were just tucked inside his little energy storage tank. Nice and cozy and warm, bright with an abundance of magical potential.
Papyrus was already snoring beside him, so no one would know…
Sans gave a fond little smile to his ripe, brimming little belly, and held it in an embrace. By now, most of the pain had faded, leaving him feeling weighty and tired. The magical mass thrummed in satisfaction against him. And he would never admit it, but it felt oh so good.
The lulling beeps and mechanical whirrs of Napstaton droned on, and he was finding himself suddenly very sleepy. One tiny “hic!”, and Sans limply settled in, allowing the pull of sleep to overtake him.
And peace settled over the cabin home…just a TV buzzing steadily before two very comfy slumbering skeletons.