Work Text:
Working from home became a constant during lock-down, which also turned it incredibly boring. It also meant more free time, now that there was less commuting and literally just a few feet between the bed and the desk. That newfound free time Derek spent on learning how to bake. He’d remember the Sunday afternoons spent with his mother and sisters baking outlandish cakes and desserts. No cake he’d bake would live up to his memories, but spending time baking with Stiles made new ones.
It started off a simple sponge cakes or cupcakes. Stiles approved, occasionally taking a slice back to his own desk to munch on while working. Derek was harsher on himself. He was ambitious, wanting the result to be as perfect as possible. To come closer to the perfect cake meant for him to keep baking. With no strict working hours, it meant that he could even start baking before work. It became the norm that Derek would sort out recipes to bake in the morning before going to bed.
What it also meant was that someone had to eat the goods Derek spent his time on. Stiles was a sweet tooth, but even he couldn’t handle more than a couple slices a day. So it was left to Derek to take care of it. His excuse was that he needed to taste test as much as he could to find the perfect balance of ingredients. Secretly he started to like stuffing his face.
By the time they were six months into the lock-down, it was no rare sight for Derek to have finished off a small cake by lunch. Stiles did protest at first, but Derek knew he was weak to seeing Derek as content and happy as he was when rubbing his cake filled belly.
Taste testing soon found its way to his belly and hips. First a small slope of soft padding, then an absence of trim abs, replaced by a belly that strained against tight fitting shirts. Derek really didn’t mind gaining a few extra pounds, and apparently neither did Stiles, considering his enthusiastic confessions of love towards Derek’s newly developed belly and love handles.
Derek soon started baking or finishing off a cake during breaks or after dinner. Desserts used to be a rare sight after dinner, but now they were a firm part of it. It didn’t matter how much dinner Derek had, there was always room for desert in his ever growing belly.
More often than not this lead to Stiles rubbing Derek’s stuffed belly afterwards. They didn’t talk about the newfound enjoyment of Derek’s changing body, but Derek could tell that Stiles was definitely enjoying it the same way Derek did.
~
When the one-year anniversary of the lock-down came around, Derek was semi-confident in his baking skills and his body. His former abs where now hidden under a substantial layer of soft fat. Belly and thick love handles pooling proudly about the top of his pants. Thick arms and thighs that would bust the seams of the clothes he wore one year ago
What had started as lock-down weight gain, had turned out to be much more than that. After finally sitting down with Stiles for the talk they’d been avoiding for months, it turned out that they both loved the new Derek, and were not opposed to seeing where this could lead to. Derek knew he was lucky to have Stiles, because he was not planning on stopping.
~
When the lock-down finally ended, Derek was a whooping 178lb heavier than when it started.
~
“You should totally sign up!” Stiles exclaimed and waved the flyer in front of Derek’s face.
“I don’t know if I’m good enough,” Derek lamented and took the flyer. Now with the lock-down gone and life turning back to normal, the neighbourhood was organising a block party. It would include all the neighbour getting together after such a long time, each encouraged to bring dishes to share. But what had drawn Derek’s eye in the first was the small baking contest that was held during the party. He really wanted to participate, but he still felt like the skill he’d learnt at home were nowhere near good enough to place high enough in a contest or even win it.
“Not good enough?” Stiles said with a huff, the hand that held the flyer before drifting down to Derek’s engorged belly. “You’ve been training the whole time! ‘Never trust a skinny baker’ as they say. Judging by your size, the president has to trust you.”
Derek felt his face heat up. He put his hand on Stiles’, squeezing, “You think I can actually win it?”
“Win it? You’re gonna blow them away!” Stiles laughed. “And I think you’ve got enough time to get a decent amount of practise in,” he added by grabbing a handful of Derek’s belly fat, a glint in his eyes.
~
Now that working from home was an established thing, Derek had decided to continue sticking to it. It did mean less time to practise his baking skills, but Stiles had become even more enthusiastic to help Derek. He kept insisting Derek finish a cake before starting a new one.
“Because you need the space of course!” He’d argued. Derek played along, if it meant that Stiles would actually feed him and rub his belly.
The week leading up to the contest Derek had decided to take off work. He’d need all the time to practise. He spent the days eating and baking. These days he’d grown accustomed to the feeling of his belly being full to the brim by the time lunch rolled around. His belly sitting heavy and stuffed in his lap, Stiles dutifully rubbing away the aches. It was a life he could get used to.
~
The day of the contest arrived and Derek was strangely calm. Thanks to Stiles support, he was confident to at least place in the top three, even if Stiles insisted he’d win.
Waddling towards the tables, he eyed the competition. Many cakes were small, just feeding the judges. Derek’s cake on the other hand was enough to feed the judges and still guarantee each family in the neighbourhood a slice. It had simply become normal to him to bake bigger portions; it wasn’t a big stretch to bake even more for the block party.
Despite all the practise baking of all kinds of different cakes, he’d ultimately decided on a vanilla chocolate sponge cake with a chocolate raspberry ganache. It hopefully was enough to impress the judges and the neighbourhood.
~
Derek was a nervous wreck by the time the judging happened. To take his mind of the contest he ate his way through most of the food offered by his neighbours, chatting and eating. The things he liked he’d go back to for seconds, even asking for the recipes. Eat was a good way to distract him, but eating while distracted also meant that he didn’t care for how much he ate. By the time the judges finally announced the winners, Derek was close to achingly full. Sitting on a sturdy bench close to the contest to hear the announcement, Derek held his stuffed belly. Stiles was around somewhere, so it was up to Derek to rub away the aches. He was used to the feeling of his belly stretched and full, but it was different being like this in public.
Luckily he sat far away to not gather any attention as he started to rub the engorged ball of fat that was his belly these days. Beneath the shirts he could feel the doughy layer of fat, and underneath his packed stomach. Somewhere along his eating spree his shirt had ridden up, exposing his soft belly hang, pushed out even further by his bloated belly. It now hung between his spread thighs, already starting to touch the bench. Spreading his thighs had become another thing Derek did by default when he sat down, giving his belly enough space and to lessen the pressure on his stomach.
He sneakily pushed his sweats to rest beneath his belly, groaning in relieve as his belly had enough space to push out another inch, taking more pressure off his bloated belly. Those sweats fit him just fine two months ago, maybe it was time to go up another size, but he knew that Stiles loved the way smaller clothes made him look. They made him look fatter, his fat sides and belly spilling out of them, and an occasion or two even popping a button. And Derek loved it, too. He couldn’t wait for this pair of sweats to be too snug for him when he wasn’t stuffed and bloated, then he knew he was finally too fat for them.
~
Stiles had just found his way to him, when the judges announced the winners.
“Third place goes to Betty Hirsch, congratulations!” The judge handed a small golden slice of cake to the lady stepping up.
“Second place goes to Louis Arnold, congratulations!” Another golden slice was handed out.
“And the first place, witch a stunning sponge cakes goes to . . . Derek Hale! Congratulations!”
Derek was in shock over the announcement. With some help from Stiles he made himself presentable and waddled his way to receive his trophy in the form of a small golden cake.
Returning, Stiles looked nothing but proud. He splayed his hands on Derek large belly, leaning in to peck a kiss on his lips.
With hooded eyes he whispered, “You’ll get your proper prize when we get home.”
~
Later that evening, Derek held his impossibly stuffed belly. Stiles had somehow managed to have the neighbours drop off leftovers at their place, and Stiles had proceeded to feed him plate after plate. His belly was hopelessly full, pinning him to the couch. His belly distended the furthest it has ever been. The shirt he’d worn during the day not even reaching to his belly button anymore, pushed up and below his chest. Somewhere in the middle he’d had to shimmy out of the sweats, restricting his belly even when they were pushed down.
Stiles patted and rubbed his bloated beach ball of a belly, cooing and kissing the stretched mass of fat and food, praising Derek in between.
Derek’s eyes drifted to the small trophy resting on a shelf.
Maybe tomorrow he should get started on practising for next year's contest.