Popping *ONE SHOT*

Popping

James wore the same thing every day to work. Black dress jeans and a white button up shirt. His desk job as a 911 operator didn't require much more so it was the same style jeans and the same style shirt, day in and day out for the last two years.

The only problem was – in the last two years he had near enough doubled his weight, gaining an impressive 141 pounds to date, his weight ballooning to 308 pounds and increasing. The consequence of this rapid gain was, among trivial back pain and shallow breaths here and there from carrying twice the man he used to be, was that the simple work uniform had been replaced numerous times.

The first replacement came when he had gained 20 pounds and had come the second he felt it getting snug.

However, nowadays, he waits.                                                              

He adores the way the thin white material clings to ever fleshy roll around his waist, loves the feeling of peeling away the constricting denim from his expanded pale torso, examining the hash angry red lines from the very tight squeeze. He gets a thrill deep in his spine, a hot, burning sensation buried deep until the chub of his stomach whenever he watches Billy's eyes light up as he feeds him more and more so that he grows out of them.

So he waits until he can't possibly go another day in those clothes without risking public indecency.

And this time it's no different either.

He arrives home to the smell of pasta and cheese and bread and cookies and cake, all baked and ready. He knows the cupboards are almost as tightly packed as he is; barely struggling to contain all the rich calorie treats for tonight's endeavours.

"Babe," he calls as he kicks of his shoes by the door.

Billy in question emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a chocolate stained tea towel. Billy practically growls when he sees James stood at the door; looks him up and down before focusing on the ever present bump underneath his thinning shirt. He takes hold of him in his arms, pressing his own iron flat stomach to the fleshy mound his boyfriend sports.

"That shirt isn't lasting any longer," he growls into James' ear, "I've been planning all day – we're popping you out of that thing tonight."

James giggles, allowing Billy to dominate him as he leads him to the kitchen where mass amounts of food are laid out on the table for James' pleasure. His stomach whines at the sight.

"Barely eaten all day," he lies, "baby's hungry. Needs filling."

Billy grins and lightly kisses James' cheek before pushing him down into the chain and presenting him with the first dish.

It's packed high with creamy mac and cheese, crispy bacon bits lying in the dozens on the top. Billy loads up a forkful and presses it to James' lips, his spare hand going to the pouch of James' stomach, slowly rubbing up and down as James' lets out a pleasant moan at the first bite.

"Oh god, Billy," he mumbles through cheese as more and more forkfuls come his way. Billy is not a slow feeder, instead he likes to stuff his feedee without hesitation. He loves to see the glazing red of James' cheeks as he puffs through each bite.

"Used two whole packets of bacon, just for you. So much cheese and calories – you won't know what's hitting you." The cheese stretches between the dish and fork as he presents James with more of it and more of it.

It's when they're coming to the end of that first dish that James' globe of a stomach really starts protesting. It whines and gurgles as it tries to digest the family of five meal. It's itchy as the skin pulls, stretching to accommodate the swell, as he' groans and scraps his nails along the top of it, where it shelves his glorious breasts.