#a fucking uhhhh cheese burger with extra fries

[ze0wlartist]

Doodles.

[scottsummershere]

oh word chilis? go ahead and get me a uhhhh crispy chicken combo, and a double cheese burger for jono. extra fries. thanks :)

I don’t know, you guys won’t suck face in front of me when I drop it off to you, will you? Plus what if I don’t fuck with him he is a man (derogatory) after all

[eeveedel]

chubby actor louis (pt 1)

Hi all, as you might be able to tell from the non-title, this is just a little fic I whipped together based on an au we’ve been discussing on my blog this week! I do want to eventually do more parts, but I want to see how people react to this part first. 

please note this fic deal with weight gain kink/fetish. it is heavy on food and weight talk. if any of that content bothers or triggers you, this will not be the story for you. 

this is criminally under-edited, so I apologize lol. but uhhhh enjoy! 

--

“Remind me what this is for, exactly.”

Harry was standing in the living room, swinging his car keys around one finger, and watching Louis as he laid on the couch, belly on the cushions, feet in the air, and enough In N Out to feed three people spread out on their coffee table.

“I told you last week,” Louis sighed, “This is for work.”

He was currently holding a double cheese burger, the thing already half-eaten, and there was pink sauce at the corner of his mouth.

Harry had seen Louis prep for plenty of TV and movie roles in the decade they had known each other, but none of his prep work had ever looked like this.

“How, again?” Harry asked as he watched Louis take another generous bite of his food. The other man chewed and swallowed, and then spoke, although his eyes were still on the food rather than Harry.

“I’m playing some Edwardian noble or something, and like, I have to look rich for that era, and everyone rich was kind of fat,” Louis said, “So. I have to gain twenty pounds.”

Harry stopped swinging his keys, instead catching and holding them in his palm.

“Twenty pounds,” Harry repeated.

“Well. Twenty to thirty. We’re aiming low to start. But I start prep today, so, yeah. Burgers!” Louis said. He took another bite of his burger, groaning, “God, that’s good. I forgot how good these are.”

He uncrossed and re-crossed his ankles behind him, kicking his feet a bit as he ate more of his burger. He looked up at Harry, sauce still on his mouth and his mouth full, like a chipmunk.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re cute,” Harrys supplied, offering him a small smile, “It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Louis smiled, “I kind of forget how good food can be when it’s not all quinoa, you know? I think this’ll be fun.”

He kept munching on his burger, and Harry glanced over at the pile of food on the table. Something in his stomach stirred – not hunger, not envy for the food, but something else he couldn’t pinpoint.

“Well, just pace yourself,” he offered. It was weak advice, and Louis laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Harry just nodded, still fixated on his boyfriend eating.

Louis was small, he had always been small, and he was in amazing shape. Even now, laid flat on the couch, Harry could see the definition of his muscles in his arms, legs, and along the exposed edges of his stomach where his shirt had rucked up. Harry couldn’t even picture what he would look like with twenty extra pounds. It seemed more fathomable for Louis to sprout a pair of wings than to gain that much weight.

“Do you want take out for dinner?” he asked, “I was going to cook but maybe that’ll be easier, so you can get whatever you want.”

“Ooh, yes, please,” Louis said, “Can we get Chinese? I want dumplings. And crab meat ragoon. And lo mein. Oh, and eggrolls. So many fucking eggrolls.”

“Are you still going to have room?” Harry asked, “You ordered three burgers and three helpings of cheese fries.”

“And I have a milkshake in the freezer!” Louis said cheerfully, “And honestly, I didn’t realize how fucking hungry I was until I ate this stuff. I think I’ve been starving for the last decade, holy shit.”

“Well,” Harry said, “It’s good you’re happy.”

Louis just hummed and nodded. He had polished off his burger, and he eagerly reached for the next one, unwrapping the silver foil on the burger like he was a child and this was his most anticipated Christmas present.

“I’m going to do some work upstairs,” Harry said, “Just let me know when you want dinner, okay?”

“Kay,” Louis mumbled around the burger in his mouth, “Love you!”

Harry nodded and then came over, giving Louis a quick kiss on the head before he left the room, heading for the main staircase.

He still had a weird feeling in his stomach, but that he could figure out later.

--

Harry noticed Louis’s – and by extension, his -- daily routine changing a bit quicker than he had anticipated.

For the last several years, they had each woken up at the same time to work out together and later have breakfast – shared veggie juices and granola, usually – the backyard together. It had been one of their things. He remember once a couple years ago some gossip rag had profiled them as one of Hollywood’s fit power couples. He had found that funny, because he always knew that Louis didn’t love working out. He just liked routine, and he liked that they had something to do together.  

But now that Louis was on his new assignment, Harry woke up and worked out alone while Louis slept in. Then, usually, by the time Harry had worked out, made breakfast, cleaned up the dishes, and sat down to answer his emails, Louis would roll out of bed and sit down next to him to eat a giant bowl of one of the many sugary cereals that had appeared in their cabinet.

“Morning, babe,” Harry would always say, “Did you sleep okay?”

“So fucking well,” Louis would agree through a mouthful of food. After he was done eating he would give Harry a kiss and then go to the living room to watch TV or read his lines. Harry would find them sprawled there for hours in just his sweatpants, sometimes napping, or having a snack, or just lazily watching the TV. Louis was a “go, go, go” type of person, Harry knew that. He liked having tasks, and he never gave himself a break.

“I’m glad you’re getting time to relax,” Harry said one afternoon while watching Louis unwrap the two fried chicken sandwiches he had ordered for lunch.

“Thanks, baby,” Louis had given him a smile and then focused on his food.

Maybe, Harry realized that week, Louis was fully relaxing. This was just another one of his goals. He was dedicating himself to a part, as well, and this part involved him pushing his body in different ways.

A week into Louis’s role preparation, Harry found him on the couch, as usual. There was some sort of HBO documentary playing, and he was eating orange chicken straight out of the carton, using chopstick skills Harry didn’t know he had.

He was also fiddling on his phone as he ate, his eyes still occasionally flickering to the TV.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“Just placing another order,” Louis said, and then promptly deposited more chicken into his mouth.

“Another order?” Harry asked, lifting his brows in spite of himself.

“Yeah, this documentary is about McDonald’s, like, the business side of it or whatever – did you hear about this Monopoly thing that happened in the nineties, it’s fucked – but anyways, it put me in the mood for a burger.”

“You want a burger?” Harry parroted.

“And fries, obviously. Oh, maybe a milkshake. Do you want an iced coffee or something?”

“How are you still hungry?” Harry asked. In addition to the orange chicken carton in Louis’s lap, there was also a a bag of eggrolls on the table, and Harry had seen a big container of wonton soup in the fridge.

“Well, I’ll just have a few more bites of this chicken and then when the food comes I’ll be hungry again,” Louis said, still flicking through his phone. “Oh, man, haven’t had an apple pie from there in years. If I order two will you have one? There’s a sale.”

Harry didn’t answer at first, instead he just looked at Louis. He was dressed in his sweatpants, as usual, and no shirt. He had been going at this for a week now, not exercising and barely getting up from the couch and stuffing his face with whatever fatty or sugary thing he wanted. He liked nearly the same, unless Harry really paid attention. And he was paying attention now. Louis was still small, he had been so trim before that he was probably a little bit underweight. His stomach was still flat but it looked soft now, compared to his usual ripped definition. His face also looked a bit bloated, but that might just have been have the sodium. But Harry kept feeling like his eyes were playing tricks on him, that there was new weight and curves on Louis’s body that hadn’t been there days before.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Lou?” Harry asked cautiously, “With how much you’re having?”

“It’s temporary,” Louis huffed, “Come on, I told you this. Now leave me alone, I’m working.”

“Alright,” Harry agreed, “You’ll let me know, though, if you need something?”

“Sure,” Louis said, “Now. You want coffee? Apple pie? What? I’m ordering now.”

“I’m okay, baby,” Harry allowed, “But have whatever you want. You deserve it.”

Louis shot him a bright smile – were his cheeks rounder than usual? – and then went back to his phone.

An hour later Harry found Louis sleeping on the couch, a hand over his belly and the coffee table scattering with burger wrappers, fries and pie containers, and milkshake cups.

Harry quietly cleaned it up and went into the next room, trying to collect his thoughts that were far more racing for his liking.

--

“Harry,” Louis proudly declared the next week, “Guess what.”

They were sitting at the dinner table, Harry with a kale and pine nut salad and Louis with a silver container of take out pasta that the menu said could feed three people.

“What, babe?” Harry asked.

“I’m 152!” Louis exclaimed, “I gained seven pounds! So I’m, like, a third of the way done.”

Harry tried very hard not to let his face give away too much, as there was now heat growing in his belly. It had decided to arrive every time Louis talked about his weight or food now, and had become a confusing if not entirely unwelcome presence in Harry’s life.

“That’s great, baby,” Harry said, “It’s been, what, about two weeks?”

“Yeah, a pound every two days,” Louis grinned, “Isn’t  that good? I’m making such good progress.”

“You are,” Harry agreed. He was keeping his voice neutral, like a long-lost relative was telling him about their son’s sudden interest in baseball. Louis seemed to pick up on this, and pouted a little.

“Are you still worried about this?” Louis sighed, “That this isn’t good for me or whatever?”

“I’m not worried,” Harry said. And he wasn’t. Quite the opposite, really. And he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that yet.

“Because I talked to the doctor and everything, he says it’s fine,” Louis said. He heaped more pasta – cheesy penne dripping in fatty looking red sauce and chunks of beef – onto his fork and waved it around. “Well, he said it was fine if I took it slow and ate balanced meals, like still having lots of vegetables and lean protein and stuff.”

He stuffed the pasta into his mouth, and then looked into the tin of noodles.

“Hm,” he said, “Maybe I should work on that a little more. Like, the balanced stuff.”

“I can make you some stuff,” Harry offered, “Like that salmon you like. Or ratatouille. I can just give you a bigger portion.”

“Oh, that would be good,” Louis nodded, “Might take you up on that.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice light again, “I mean, you’ve been having a lot of take out, and I’d love to cook something for you.”

Louis laughed, shaking his head.

“You’d have to make two versions,” Louis said, “Make mine with butter and salt and stuff.”

Harry swallowed, his throat a bit dry. He had maybe been thinking about that a bit too much. Easy dinners where he could swap out veggies and whole grains for himself and put more processed calories into Louis’s.

For Louis’s job, of course, just for that.

“I could up with something,” Harry said.

Louis offered him a smile and then reached out a hand, prodding at where Harry’s own hand was folded next to his plate.

“Thanks, babe,” Louis said, “And hey, I appreciate you being supportive of all this. I know it’s a little weird.”

“No problem,” Harry said softly.

Louis’s hand left his own, and the other man tucked back into his meal.

Harry was staring again, calculating, observing. Louis was wearing a shirt now, and his loose, around-the-house jeans, so he couldn’t see all of his body. But his face was dusted with softness, and there was a small, barely noticeable curve behind the fabric of his shirt that had never been there before.

As Louis tucked into more and more of pasta, his face became a bit pinched, though he kept eating. And then, slowly, Louis reached down, pushed up the hem of his shirt, and unbuttoned his jeans.

His face lightened as he did, an appreciative little breathe leaving his lips, and then he kept going with his feast, his other hand still cradling his bloated stomach as he ate.

Harry had to figure out an excuse to leave the table before that warm feeling in his stomach traveled any further south, and he would have a lot of explaining to do.

--

The weeks wore on, and Harry grew to admit to himself that he very much liked Louis’s assignment.

One night, when Louis was in bed with a tub of ice cream and a Netflix drama, Harry had been doing work in the living room, looking up some fabric prices for a new project at the studio, and his focus had shifted. He started doing some googling, and that lead to some reading, a few embarrassing quizzes, and one or two pornos, and by the time Harry had climbed into bed with a dozing, sticky-mouthed Louis, he had come to accept that he had a full on fetish for his boyfriend getting fatter.

He didn’t really want to admit it. After all, even though Louis seemed to be having fun, as far as Harry knew this was still just a job for him. He didn’t Louis to think he was weird; they had been together for so long, it would really suck for Louis to kick him out over a recently discovered fat kink. They had plenty of other bedroom thrills he could occupy himself that didn’t have to be…this.

So Harry stayed quiet, and just observed.

But that was getting harder, because Louis was getting rapidly and noticeably bigger.

He had gained ten pounds now, and it showed. He had a healthy curve to his belly and some fat on his cheeks. His collarbones looked less sharp, his hips were curvier, and his ass looked impressively delicious, a nice, happy hill that sat thick in his sweatpants. He was closer to an average weight for his height, but in contrast to the Louis Harry had known for years, who had a set of abs and toned arms and got asked about his exercise regime on the red carpet, it was a sudden shift.

Louis hadn’t asked Harry to cook for him yet, so Harry carried on with his meal plans of roasted vegetables and roasted fish and grains for himself while Louis kept indulging in whatever he wanted. They had a system that worked, even if it involved Harry trying to push down his real feelings.

Until, of course, Louis made it harder.

“Babe?” Louis called one afternoon. He was in the master bedroom, and Harry was stitching together a muslin design in his office. His usual sewing playlist was on and he was in his zone, so he was annoyed for a moment, but then melted back until his usual, unrelenting fondness for his boy.

“Yeah?” he returned.

“I need your help!” Louis called.

“Alright, one second,” Harry replied. He stood up, taking off his glasses, and went down the hall to their room. He didn’t know what he expected, exactly, but when he walked in, he was greeted by Louis, shirtless, and struggling to button his skinny jeans.

Harry stood in the doorway for a second, just watching, until Louis lifted his head and offering a sheepish smile.

“These are kind of tight,” Louis said, “I shouldn’t have bought them this close cut, anyways.”

“Oh?” Harry choked out. He couldn’t stop looking at how the crease of Louis’s belly pushed out against the flaps he was forcing together.

“Yeah,” Louis sighed, “Come help me.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Harry said. He was babbling a little, he knew that, but he still came around to Louis.

“Hold onto the back of my jeans and pull,” Louis instructed. Harry did so, grabbing the loops of Louis’s jeans. He gave them a tug, which got them a little higher over Louis’s hips. The other man struggled with the button. Louis was huffing a bit, trying to get his new belly, as small as it was, into his old jeans that had been tight even on his old body.

Harry tried to tug again, and Louis groaned and yanked at the tabs again. He seemed close to getting them to close, but when he moved to pull the button into the loops, the tabs flew apart. Louis huffed, relaxing his body, his stomach puffing out.

“One more time?” he asked Harry, his voice high.

“Okay,” Harry managed. He felt hot all over, watching Louis wriggle and struggle with his jeans, and he didn’t know how much longer he could last.

He grabbed the jeans in a different spot, at the hem rather than by the loops, and pulled a bit harder. He heard Louis take in a loud breath and then move fast, quickly buttoning up the jeans. He exhaled and then went to do up the zipper, fully getting the jeans on. But his breath out sounded labored, like his jeans were still holding him hostage.

“Thanks, baby,” Louis said, and turned around to give Harry a kiss.

“You’re welcome,” Harry said, “Call me if you need anything else.”

He touched Louis’s side, his skin soft and warm, and then quickly left the room, back to his study where he could calm down with Sufjan Stevens and his sewing machine.

When Louis came back a few hours later, Harry noticed he was wearing a different pair jeans than the ones he had shoved on earlier. But he decided not to ask him about it.

--

By the time Louis was fifteen pounds heavier than when he had started, Harry was starting to lose it a little.

Every night he laid next to his boyfriend, and they were still having sex and showering together and enjoying their usual fun, but it was becoming harder for Harry to keep his eyes and hands off Louis’s jiggling belly and thighs, or to not spend his afternoon kissing Louis’s rounding cheeks.

His boyfriend was more stunning than ever, and Harry was too much of a coward to tell him that.

On one particular afternoon, Harry was staying home doing some spring cleaning while Louis was out at a meeting with the director and some of the main cast members for the movie he was prepping for. Usually Louis found these meetings boring but enjoyable enough, so Harry expectedly him to be an alright mood when he came back.

Instead, Louis slammed the front door closed, his teeth set straight as he walked in.

“God, fuck,” Louis cursed loudly.

Harry was cleaning in the kitchen, and he froze, rag in one hand and spray bottle in the other.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Harry asked.

“The fucking director said he’s not happy with my look,” Louis said, throwing up his hands to make air quotes at the last words, “I told him I’m not done gaining weight yet but he said that twenty pounds isn’t going to work anymore. He wants at least thirty. So I have to gain another fifteen pounds in the next few months.”

He brought his hands down, settling them on his noticeably plusher hips. He really was looking so good these days. And this news was music to Harry’s kinky ears, but it was clearly upsetting to Louis.

“Well that shouldn’t be too hard, right?” Harry said, “You gained fifteen pounds in just over a month. Surely you can do the last half, too.”

“I’m hitting a plateau,” Louis groaned, “I gained only a pound this week and I’ve been eating just like a normally have.”

He settled his hands as he said this, manhandling the softness, and groaned.

“God, I didn’t think getting fat would be this hard,” he sighed.

Harry blinked, something clicking together smoothly in his brain at hearing Louis say that little three letter word.

“You know, honey,” Harry said slowly, “I think I could help.”

“No, I can do it myself,” Louis said quickly, “It’s my body and my job, I can – “

“Louis,” Harry cut in. Louis seemed surprised at the interruption, and Harry realized that his voice had been a bit strong. “I’m – I should tell you something.”

“What?”

Harry nervous scrubbed at a patch of the countertop that was already gleaming.

“So, um, I was doing some research…”

“Oh, god, Harry,” Louis huffed, “What did you do now?”

Harry was quiet, and tapped his fingers over top of the rag on the counter.  

“Okay, so, I think I have a fetish. A fetish for you gaining weight.”

Louis just looked at him, and Harry rushed on.

“Like, I didn’t realize, but I’ve been really – turned on seeing you do all this in the last month. And I think you look so fucking good, and I – I’d like to be a part of it, I think.”

He took a long breath when he was done, and Louis was still just staring at him.

Eventually, the other man spoke.

“Well,” Louis said slowly, “That’s. Convenient.”

He laughed, then, not malicious, but light and happy, and it made the tension in Harry’s body unspool.

“I mean, listen, I don’t know if I’m into this,” Louis said, gesturing to his stomach, “I’m doing this for a job and I’ve only really thought about it that way. But…if you’re into it, maybe…maybe you can help the process go a bit smoother.”

“I’d like that,” Harry said, “Seriously, I can cook for you, and weight and measure you and make sure you’re on track with what the director wants, and maybe we could…experiment a bit. And if you don’t like it then we never do this again after you finish your job.”

He paused for a minute, and looked at Louis hopefully.

“What do you think?” Harry said, and he hated how breathless he sounded.

Louis was quiet for a minute, and Harry’s anxious brain spun a thousand and one scenarios in that silence – that Louis was going to slap him in the face, pack a bag, quit this movie and lose the weight just to personally spite Harry.

But instead, Louis came around to the other side of the counter and gave Harry a long kiss. Harry kissed back, a bit confused but happy for the touch.

When Louis pulled back, he was grinning, and his eyes were glinting.

“So,” Louis said, “What are you making me for dinner?”