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“Absolutely not,” says Han, rolling over to face away from Luke. It’s no small task, what with the amount of space Luke takes up these days. “You are not dragging me across campus in assless chaps.”
“But your ass is so good,” Luke whines, pressing the mass of his belly against Han’s slender back. “Not even for Halloween?”
“Not even for Halloween, kid. Sorry.”
“What if I wore them too?” Luke tries, and Han’s brain momentarily shorts out as he considers Luke’s wide hips, his plump, dimpled backside rising like a full moon from a field of dark leather. Luke’s huge, wobbly thighs squeezed into a skintight pair of leather pants — can you even buy leather pants in the size Luke wears? He’s dubious, but the image is still insanely hot.
“Still a no,” says Han, maneuvering onto his back. It’s a complicated venture that involves hefting up Luke’s gut enough to slip underneath, then let his flab tumble down to rest on top of him. “What am I gonna go as, a hard-on?”
Luke laughs, belly jiggling against Han’s frame. “You walk around dressed like a dick every day, what else is new?”
“Hey!” says Han, grabbing him in a gentle headlock. “Fighting words from the galaxy’s most cliché-looking stoner.”
Luke snuggles into the embrace. “I just don’t see how leather pants don’t fit into your bad boy aesthetic.”
“Leather pants are not assless chaps!”
“It’s not like half of campus hasn’t already seen your ass anyway!”
“Ugh,” says Han, burying his face in Luke’s mop of soft blond hair. “No. My ass is a privilege, I’m not giving it away for free to every drunk rando on campus.”
“Fine,” Luke relents. “What do you want to do for Halloween, then?”
“Nothing! I’d rather spend it with you than with everyone else here. You like scary movies? I’ll watch scary movies with you. Anything but drinking warm beer in someone’s living room blowing my eardrums out to bad music.”
“Mmm, I don’t know,” says Luke, heaving himself up on one knee and easing his heavy bulk on top of Han. “I might need to hold your hand.”
“Sounds gay,” Han wheezes as the air rushes from his lungs. “I’m in.”
—
Halloween night finds them tangled on Han’s bed, guaranteed a night to themselves because Lando is, as always, throwing a holiday bash in one of his partners’ apartments across town. He’s not the least bit surprised when Han tells him he won’t be there.
U got better things to do now, Lando texts back with an array of suggestive emojis. Stay safe space cowboy xxx
Han thumbs-ups the row of kisses and tosses his phone aside. Luke’s got his own open to one of the several food delivery apps he has downloaded, skimming through the note he keeps on his phone of things he wants to eat when he’s high.
“What do you wanna eat?” Han asks, resting his chin on Luke’s soft shoulder.
“Mmm, maybe pizza. Maybe Chinese. Maybe both.”
“That going to be enough for you?” asks Han. He pokes at Luke’s big belly, thumbing at the indent in his t-shirt where his navel is pulled flat by his expanding gut. “Don’t want you going hungry.”
“Oh, I’ve got a plan, don’t worry.” Luke grins, chubby cheeks appling sweetly. “That place you like does so much extra cheese that it’s like eating two pizzas. The portions at the Chinese place by the library are huge. I’ll manage.”
“All right, all right,” says Han, kissing his double chin. “Can’t blame me for trying to get some food into you.”
“I know,” says Luke, grabbing one of Han’s hands and pressing it to his ample belly. “I’m so undernourished.”
Han worms his hand up Luke’s t-shirt, exploring the narrow stretch mark scars where he’s gained so much weight so quickly that his skin can barely hold him. “Yup,” he says, fondling the plush chub that wraps around Luke’s sides in thick rolls, piling up and out the bigger he eats himself. “Skin and bones. Make sure you get a little extra just in case you have an appetite tonight.”
“Good idea,” says Luke, sinking back against him and packing a bowl. “Just in case.”
—
“Chinese is here,” says Luke thickly around a mouthful of pizza. He’s wolfed down most of a large one already, and there’s another box steaming on Han’s desk. “Can you get it? I don’t wanna walk.”
“Yeah, I got it.” Han slides off the bed and grabs his ID. “Need anything while I’m down there?”
Luke considers it. “Couple sodas, maybe. You know what I like.” He burps. “Oh, and you know what else I really liked?” A slow smile spreads across his face. “Drinking that pint of ice cream. So maybe one of those.”
“Jesus, kid,” says Han with feeling. “Okay, I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t enter the food coma without me.”
He hustles downstairs to the campus convenience store, grabs a root beer, a cream soda, and a pint of some chocolate-peanut butter thing that he’s seen Luke eat before; it doesn’t have a ton of mix-ins, so it should be easy for him to get down. Then down to the tap desk to collect the two (!) giant paper bags of Chinese, then back up to his own room, where Luke —
Where Luke is spread out on his bed, huge belly jiggling indecently, trying to pull on a pair of leather pants.
Han practically drops everything in his hands. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to surprise you,” Luke pants. “I thought they would fit.”
“And?”
Luke shakes his head. “Too fat.”
Too fat is an understatement. He’s barely got the pants over his chubby knees, the dimpled masses of his thighs spilling out above the snug leather. There’s absolutely no way that he’s going to get these pants over his ass or up around his waist.
“Okay, hang on.” Han throws his spoils on the desk and studies Luke. “Where did you even find these?”
“Online! I thought the measurements lined up.” He yanks harder, but the leather isn’t budging. His whole body ripples appealingly. “I guess I’m not a 48 anymore.”
“Jesus, sweetheart,” says Han, lightheaded. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re at least a 50. Probably more, with all you packed on recently. Not to mention the pizza.”
“Ahhh, the pizza,” groans Luke, as if it’s just a matter of bloat and not having eaten himself into another thirty-five pounds. “Well, help me get them off, at least. I can’t bend that far.”
He braces himself against the bedframe while Han wrestles the skintight leather down his chubby calves. Luke makes soft, exerted noises as his whole body jiggles with the movement, the lowest roll of his belly swaying temptingly even with Han’s mouth. He wants to chew on that lower belly fat like taffy.
“Need anything while I’m down here?” Han asks, ducking beneath the hang of his belly to nose at the smaller bulge in his boxer briefs, and Luke laughs. His libido usually maxes out at stuffing himself and having Han get off on how big he is, but Han likes to offer, just in case. It’s the least he can do when Luke is housing thousands of calories every day and getting stuck in pants for him.
“I’m okay for now, but you can bite if you want.”
“Thank god,” breathes Han, sinking his teeth into that roll. “Stop wiggling. I’m still tryin’ to get these damn pants off you.”
“I just wanted a piece of pizza,” Luke whines, and Han gives in because okay, making out with his boyfriend’s fat rolls while said boyfriend stuffs his face with pizza is pretty hot.
He spends a few minutes there, mouthing and sucking at Luke’s wobbling underbelly, inhaling the soft yeasty scent of his skin and sweat, as Luke makes little noises of effort as he eats his pizza. When Han looks up, three more slices are gone from the box, and Luke is panting a little.
“Thought you just wanted a slice, princess,” he says, sucking a bruise right below Luke’s navel. “Come on, let me get these off you and you can get comfy.”
It takes another full five minutes for him to peel the leather off Luke, half because he’s squirming and whining and half because however these fucking pants were advertised, they definitely have no business being marked as a size anywhere close to Luke’s. Han’s frankly surprised he’s still got circulation in his ankles.
“Hope you kept the receipt,” he says, tossing them onto the desk chair across the room. “Come on, get up here and I’ll put the movie on.”
Luke obliges, propping himself up and gesturing for Han to hand him the pizza box. He settles it on his lap, his stomach spilling into the box, and takes out another slice while Han collects the rest of the goods — the sodas, the ice cream, the Chinese food — so that they’re within reach and sets up his laptop with the pirate site Luke dug up.
“Really?” Han says as the side loads. “The Blob?”
Luke shrugs, grinning, lips shiny with pizza grease. “Seemed relevant.”
The movie stream is decent quality, but it’s totally lost on Han, because Luke’s got his own personal sideshow going beside him. His second pizza, loaded with enough cheese and pepperoni to choke a horse, is gone before the plot of the movie is even fully established, and he distracts Han from the first inklings of disaster by gulping down half the bottle of cream soda at once and letting out a long, groaning belch.
“Oh, god,” he sighs, another burp interrupting him. “Ugh, that’s heavy.”
“Too heavy for you?” Han teases. “That’s tough, kid. You need help?”
“Not yet.” Luke tears open the brown paper bag of Chinese food and peers inside. “I might later if I get too full, but I’m okay for now. Ooh, I forgot I got egg rolls.”
He wolfs down what has to be half a dozen deep-fried appetizers, pausing only to chug from his soda or press a deep belch out of his massive belly. Then he starts on his lo mein, slurping and gulping as if he didn’t just eat two pizzas barely an hour ago. Han can just see where he’s bloating under his t-shirt, a little more taut than the doughy cascade of his belly.
Luke groans, lying back and massaging his stomach. “Oh, man,” he whines. “I feel huge.”
Han hits pause on the movie. “I got news for you, sweetheart. You are huge.”
Luke hiccups. “Tell me how big I am.”
“Too big for those pants, for a start,” says Han, and Luke scrunches up his face indignantly. “Too big for these beds, practically. I’m gonna end up on the floor.”
“Mine keeps creaking,” adds Luke, reaching for his bowl and grinder. “I’m — huurp — pretty sure they hold more than me, but it doesn’t sound promising.”
“Fuck,” Han grits out, imagining Luke first too large for the university desks and now the beds. “Too big for the overstuffed armchairs in the library.”
“I am an overstuffed armchair,” Luke puts in as he repacks the bowl.
“Yeah, you are. You’ve been too fat for the bus seats since I met you. You probably need two of ’em now.”
Luke crawls across the bed, big belly just about grazing the bedspread, and hikes open Han’s window so he can smoke out of it. “You want any?”
Han shakes his head. “All you, sweetheart. You got a lot more food over here.”
“I know, I know. Hey, you know what else? The barstools in the cafe near the gym. Too big for those. My ass hangs off the sides.”
News to Han, who chokes on a stolen sip of cream soda even though it’s like drinking liquified bubble gum. “For real?”
“Uh-huh,” says Luke, blowing a cloud of smoke outside. “We gotta go soon, I want you to get a picture.”
“Gladly. You making room in there?” He pats Luke’s belly, which wobbles obligingly in response.
“Yeah,” he says lazily, taking another hit. “Stuff me.”
Han sits up, attentive as a dog who’s heard the W-word. “Want help?”
“Just encourage,” says Luke, eyelids half-mast. “Maybe tease.”
The Blob goes dark on Han’s computer screen. He shuffles himself behind Luke, legs spread wide to hold his mass, and rests a hand under the heavy spill of his belly onto his thigh. “I’d ask if you need all that, but look at you,” he says, nosing at the soft, pale skin behind Luke’s ear. “Look at you, sweetheart, you’re enormous. You’re gonna be the size of a house by graduation. They’re gonna bowl you across the stage.”
Luke brings another huge forkful of noodles to his mouth. “At least I’m eating vegetables,” he says around it. “Practically diet food.”
Han squeezes a big handful of thigh chub. “Yeah, baby. At least you’re eating vegetables.”
By the time he’s finished with the Chinese takeout, Luke’s belly spreads over his plush, pebbled thighs, gurgling under the sheer number of calories he’s packed away. His breathing is harsh and shallow, and Han pulls him as close as he can and kisses the back of his neck, his soft jaw, his pudgy cheeks.
“Big athlete, huh?” Han murmurs into the warm velvet of his skin. “Listen to you, all outta breath. You run here or something?”
Luke hiccups. “Oh — huuuuurp — yeah. Cross — hic — country.”
“You still got ice cream if you need to cool down,” Han reminds him. Luke gives a little moan that Han can’t quite decode as yes, please or fuck no.
“Hmm?”
“Yeah,” says Luke, nodding. “Can you — urrrp — help me?”
Han twists around to grab the ice cream, probably nice and melted by this point, tears off the protective plastic packaging, and brings it to Luke’s lips. Luke swallows, swallows, pauses to burp, and swallows again.
“Okay?” asks Han. Luke nods.
The bottom layer of ice cream hasn’t quite melted yet, so Han digs up a spoon from the collection Luke has stolen from the dining hall and feeds him mouthful by mouthful until Luke is sagging against him, burps bubbling up as he catches his breath and digests.
“Feeling good?” Han asks, smoothing Luke’s hair off his forehead, and Luke bobs his head.
“Ohhhh yeah. I’m — hic — vibing.”
“Want me to put the movie back on?”
Luke tosses up a peace sign, his eyes barely open. “Hell yeah. What movie?”
“Oookay,” says Han. “One that you picked out. You in?”
“Hell yeah I’m in.”
Luke vibes for approximately twenty more minutes before dozing off on Han’s shoulder, which Han takes as a sign to put the laptop away and call it a night. He gets Luke propped up beside him and squeezes into the sliver of the bed left over for him, Luke’s pillowy bulk pushing against him like a warm, weed-scented beanbag.
“You good?” he asks softly, and Luke nods, double chin bobbing.
“Uh-huh. You?”
“Yup.”
For a few minutes, there’s just the muffled sound of Halloweekend happening outside, the neighbors tromping around upstairs, and Luke’s stomach reeling from the mass of food he stuffed inside it. Han reaches over and pets it gently, and Luke leans into his touch.
“Maybe I should be the Blob next year,” he murmurs, and Han grins.
“Yeah, sweetheart. Maybe.”