Archive of Our Own ^beta

Everything had started with a private message, sent just moments after Armin had ended his stream. He had been clearing away his art supplies when he heard the notification and had then instinctively looked to his laptop screen. As a reasonably popular streamer Armin wasn't unused to receiving messages from his viewers and he recognised the username immediately; Yeagerbomb, otherwise known as Eren, one of his more generous followers. The kind of guy who thought nothing of donating thousands of bits or dropping several gift subs at once. It was why Armin stopped tidying his Copic pens back into their correct order, opening the message with a simple tap of his touchpad. The message was short and to the point, typical of Eren, but the contents made Armin's stomach twist in a strangely ambivalent mixture of excitement and unease.

Yeagerbomb
You're getting fat

Had Eren not been one of the loyal viewers who had been around ever since Armin had started streaming, his first thought would have been to immediately ban him from the channel and then block him on all forms of social media. Not that he was wrong, Armin conceded as he looked down at himself, at how he filled out the front of the green Legend of Zelda t-shirt that had once been a little loose on him. Balancing university with both a part-time job and streaming had crowded Armin's schedule to such an extent that food was the only thing keeping him going, calorie-laden fast food and snacks that he could eat while on the move. Not that he did a lot of moving, Armin realised with a guilty wince, even his part-time job saw him sitting at a desk for hours at a time.

Another message rose up onto the screen.

Yeagerbomb
I like it😀
3000 bits if you give me a belly shot next stream

Thirty dollars was a lot for a struggling university student. Armin stared at the screen until his eyes began to ache, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. All manner of emotions were fluttering within his chest, he was flattered by the attention but embarrassed by it in the same breath. Then there was the dark throb of concern deep in his gut, that his relationship with his viewer who he barely knew outside of his streams, could take a turn that led into something Armin wasn't prepared for. Armin shivered as he typed his response, prickles of discomfort crawling down his neck. It was a lot of money for something so relatively simple, he kept telling himself, and Eren had always spent so much money on his little channel.

Minmoe
What do you mean exactly?

Yeagerbomb
Doesn't have to be anything weird. Just stand up at some point. Maybe turn to the side if you can.

Minmoe
Okay. I'll see what I can do.

Armin's next stream was scheduled to be a gaming one, a relaxed and ongoing playthrough of Stardew Valley. It was difficult to concentrate on the game with Eren's request lingering in the back of his mind, he kept dying in the mines to the easiest of monsters and ended up selling the rare item that he had been holding onto for ages. Time was ticking steadily onwards, Armin was just over two hours into a three-hour stream, and he could see Eren's name flashing up in chat; dark green and strangely prominent against the sea of much brighter colours. Armin swallowed and returned his gaze to his screen, and to the steady red blink of the camera set up just behind his laptop. It was trained to frame Armin from his chest upwards, he would only need to stand up to capture the angle that Eren had requested.

“I suppose I should really go fishing again,” Armin continued talking to his audience behind the screen, “Ah, hold on a moment. I'm feeling a little stiff.”

Before he could talk himself out of it, Armin rose from his chair, stretching his arms up over his head. He turned casually to the side as he did, trembling from the simple knowledge that Eren was watching him. He lingered for as long as he reasonably could before dropping back down into his seat, taking to his keyboard and mouse again as if nothing had happened. Armin's heart raced as he started speaking again, his attention flickering between the game and the chat. It was only a matter of minutes before Armin's bit alert went off, a soundbyte from a game that he had streamed a long time ago. He wasn't surprised that it was from Eren, given the circumstances, though he was genuinely startled to see how much they had donated.

“Oh... wow, Yeagerbomb,” Armin was grateful that he could attribute the tremor in his voice to the sheer amount that had been gifted, “Fifty thousand bits? That's incredibly generous of you, thank you.”

It wasn't until the stream had ended that Armin learned that the extra two hundred thousand bits had been for the fact his t-shirt had ridden up mid-stretch, revealing a glimpse of his skin. Armin ended up going back through his stream to see it for himself, he rarely went back to watch himself, and it came as a genuine shock to see how chubby he had become. It was difficult to tell when Armin was sitting down, but painfully obvious when he clambered to his feet. Armin paused the playback of his stream to truly look at himself, at the figure that was so much bigger than he had realised. It wasn't just the gentle swell of his belly, it was the softness of his upper arms, his already round cheeks even fuller than they had been before. It was only the sound of another message coming through that finally allowed Armin to look away from his own rotund image.

Yeagerbomb
Your t-shirt is getting a little snug
Wonder how long it'll be until you grow out of it?
How much do you think that'd take?

There was no logical explanation for the rush of excitement that swept through Armin on reading those words.

Minmoe
That depends. Do you mean weight or bits?

Yeagerbomb
!!!!!!
You have no idea how fucking hot that is
You're really into this, aren't you?
I'll ask again. How much for you to grow out of that little t-shirt of yours?

Minmoe
You want to pay me to get fat??

Yeagerbomb
Think about it. You're heading that way already. Why not get paid to do it?
You got money issues. I got money to spare. What're a few pounds in the grand scheme of things?

Eren wasn't wrong. Armin sank back in his chair, teeth worrying against his lower lip. Those generous donations had been helping Armin more than he would ever let his viewers know. His time at university was rapidly coming to an end, and with that Armin lost the reasonably priced student apartment he had spent the last four years of his life in. While he did have money saved for a potential deposit on an apartment in the city, rent beyond that was going to be difficult unless he could get a job straight after graduation. Armin had been looking but no one was hiring in his field just yet, and though he wasn't above taking on less qualified jobs they just didn't have the wages to support him. It wasn't as if Armin had any family that he could fall back on either, his beloved grandfather had passed away just after he had started university.

Armin plucked at the front of his t-shirt, pulling the material outwards to see how much bigger he would have to get. A small shiver of excitement snaked down his spine on realising just how much give that little t-shirt had, there was a good couple of inches of space left for him to fill. Would it truly be so awful, Armin asked himself on dropping his t-shirt back into place, to put on a little more weight? There was something inherently filthy about it, Eren clearly got off on the idea of him getting chubbier, but Armin couldn't deny that the idea intrigued him. Perhaps even thrilled him. And it wasn't as if he couldn't simply lose the weight afterwards, Armin reassured himself as he began typing again. Leaving university and not having as much money for food was certain to do that anyway. Holding onto some extra weight could provide a much-needed buffer.

Minmoe
How would this work, exactly?

Yeagerbomb
Fuck thats a lot of typing. Hold on.

The steady chime of an incoming Discord call reverberated through Armin's headphones. He shouldn't have been surprised that Eren knew his Discord username, Armin was a member of the tiny fan server some of his viewers had set up for his channel, but he did hesitate before clicking accept. The call connected after a couple of seconds, and Eren's profile picture filled his screen. It was just a profile shot of an anime-styled man with green eyes and long dark hair, most likely from one of the many generators available online. Armin twiddled his headset cord between his finger and thumb as he waited for Eren to be the first to speak. Even then, he truly wasn't prepared for the way that rich voice purred through his headphones, tantalising him right to his very core.

“So you're really interested in this?” Eren asked though Armin couldn't help but feel it was still more of a command than a question.

“Yes,” Armin swallowed against the innate shyness cloying his throat, he could speak effortlessly to an audience of around a hundred viewers but talking one-on-one always felt so much more intimate, “I mean, potentially. I just want to know... more.”

“I'll lay it out all simple for you then. Listen up, cos I don't want to have to explain this twice,” Eren exhaled, and Armin could hear the sound of him shifting in his seat, “Five thousand bucks. I'll pay half when I see progress and half when I see the final results. That's in addition to paying for the extra food you're gonna need. Does that sound fair?”

“Five thousand?” Armin squeaked, his mind reeling at such a high number, “Are you sure?”

Eren's low chuckle sent little darts of pleasure along Armin's skin. “You really are new to all of this, aren't you? I'd even be willing to go higher if I see proof that you're someone worth investing in. Consider this being on probation.”

“And all you want is for me to-” Armin paused as he tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, “- get fat enough to fill out this t-shirt?”

“That's right. Shouldn't take you long,” Eren's voice hitched, “Fuck, this is doing stuff to me already. You were already so cute, you know?”

Flattery curdled with shame in Armin's stomach, his heart fluttering as he finally found his voice. “A-and what would you consider to be... progress?”

“All I wanna see is you putting on weight. As long as I can see you gettin' bigger, I'll consider that progress,” Eren reassured him with a throaty laugh, “The end goal, that'd be that getting big enough for that t-shirt to be clearly too small for you. Private streams, videos, anything where you show me just how soft you're getting.”

“And this content,” Armin's fingers curled back against his palms, “It's just for you?”

“Just for me,” Eren confirmed, a hint of amusement lacing his words, “Give me a bit an' I can even get a contract drafted up.”

“A contract?” Armin repeated, starting to wonder just who Eren was to be able to produce something like that, “I mean, I suppose that makes sense-”

“Then we've got a deal,” Eren cut Armin off mid-sentence, “Right?”

Armin's heart was pounding so loudly he was certain Eren must have been able to hear it. “Yes. We've got a deal.”

“That's what I wanted to hear,,” Eren's voice dipped into a low rumble that made his words feel as if they were clawing their way up Armin's spine, “I know it's late for you. We can talk more tomorrow. I'll send you everything you need. Sleep well, Armin.”

Having heard his own name purred in that beautiful voice, it took longer for Armin to fall asleep than he would have liked. He tossed and turned, his blankets and sheets twisting up in protest of his erratic movements. Any sleep came in fitful bursts, Eren infiltrating Armin's dreams as a tall man whose face was forever hidden in shadow. The sun was little more than a gleam on the horizon when Armin woke from a particularly sensual dream, painfully hard and desperate to relieve himself. He palmed himself quickly and furiously in a blissfully hot shower, unsure whether the pleasure coursing through him in waves was from the idea of putting on weight, of pleasing Eren, or some twisted combination of the two. Armin hadn't felt such a strong sense of arousal for a long time, his own sloppy release leaving him weak at the knees.

Once Armin was clean and dressed for the day ahead, he grabbed his phone from where it had been charging on his bedside table. A number of notifications clouded his screen, but the two that held any importance to him were an email with a formal-looking title and a message from his banking app informing him that a hundred dollars had been deposited into his account. Armin opened the email with a tap of his finger, revealing the contract that Eren had spoken of just a few hours ago. Downloading the PDF to both his phone and his laptop, Armin took his time reading it through time and time again. Fortunately one of his friends was an aspiring lawyer and Armin had heard Jean rant many, many times about dodgy contracts and the awkward clauses found within them.

The main thing to take away from the surprisingly detailed and well-written contract, Armin briefly wondered if Eren was a law student too, was that both himself and Eren were to keep any details they learned about one another to themselves unless given permission. It seemed that Eren had his reasons to protect his own image, just as much as Armin did his own. He was almost touched by how the contract was written to protect him as much as Eren, even if he logically knew that this was how good contracts worked. Once he was fairly satisfied that he understood everything there was to understand, Armin signed the document with the use of his drawing tablet. He then saved several copies, one to his laptop, another to his phone, and one to his portable harddrive, before sending the signed copy back to the email address provided. Armin sank back into his seat after hitting send, shivering a little despite the shafts of sunlight filtering in through his partially opened blinds. There was no going back now, Armin realised with a small shudder at the finality of the situation.

Eren
You're up early. Thanks for signing it so quick.
You're near a Starbucks, right? Get a white hot chocolate with breakfast. Venti.

Unused to holding such a large drink, Armin had to cradle the cardboard cup between both hands as he hurried towards his first lecture of the day. He took little sips of the wonderfully creamy drink with every other step, only taking larger swigs once the drink had cooled down. Having ordered a cheese danish to help combat the overwhelming sweetness, Armin ate it quickly before entering the building, the flaky pastry and the rich tang of the cheese a pleasant contrast. If only he had more time to savour it, Armin exhaled as he brushed the crumbs away from the front of his hoodie, it seemed that the majority of his days were spent rushing from one place to the next. Luckily Professor Hange was never opposed to their students bringing in food or beverages, and so Armin was able to nurse the creamy remnants of his hot chocolate while waiting for them to arrive.

Ymir dropped into the seat next to him with a loud yawn, dropping her bag onto the floor with a careless thud. “Starbucks huh? Someone's feelin' rich this morning.”

“Someone recommended it to me,” Armin murmured demurely into the confines of his cup, letting out a small sound of protest as Ymir took it from him, “Hey!”

“Do you know how much sugar and crap is in this?” Ymir peeled back the lid to look at the contents, wrinkling her nose, “Historia used to be all over these until she realised they were like, 600 calories a go.”

“Hot chocolate isn't exactly that healthy in the first place,” Armin whipped his drink out of Ymir's fingers, her reflexes not quite as sharp due to the early hour, “I never had you down as someone who cared about calories.”

“I don't,” Ymir pointed out, slouching back in her seat, “Historia does. Do you know how many lectures I've had about how many calories are in beer? Who cares about that? It's beer.”

“And this is 'just' hot chocolate,” Armin drank the last mouthful of his seemingly never-ending drink, setting the cup down by his feet, “I can have my sugar-packed hot chocolate and you can have your calorie-laden beer.”

“Difference is-” Ymir prodded her finger through Armin's oversized hoodie, poking the soft flesh hidden beneath the thick material, “You're getting chubby. I'm not.”

Was it that obvious, even when buried beneath his clothes? Armin's cheeks grew warm, a strange sensation of elated embarrassment fluttering within him. It was one thing for Eren to take notice, as little as he knew about his mysterious benefactor he did know that Eren had a deep appreciation for a fuller figure, but Ymir? Ymir was dating the beautiful and delicate Historia, someone who had one point Armin had often been mistaken for due to their similar build and colouring. For Ymir to notice meant that Armin's excess weight was already somewhat obvious and he hadn't truly begun to fulfil Eren's request to become even heavier.

“It means that people don't mistake me for Historia anymore,” Armin pointed out, sitting up straighter on instinct as Professor Hange made their usual chaotic entrance, a mass of papers clutched to their chest, “Surely that benefits you too.”

Ymir snorted softly, ducking to the side to retrieve her own haphazard notes out of her bag. “Yeah, well, just remember that you've already hit the freshmen fifteen. Keep drinking those and it'll be more like the freshmen fifty.”

Armin
A friend of mine said that I'm getting chubby.

Eren
They're not wrong.
Wonder what they'll say when you get even fatter?

Lunch was grabbed between lectures, something hot and greasy from the nearby McDonalds. Then it was on to Armin's early afternoon lecture, the last one in his schedule. Professor Ackerman was far less forgiving than Professor Hange, a short but sharp-eyed man who both demanded and commanded the attention of every single student. He was particularly strict about phones and so Armin didn't even think of checking for further messages from Eren until the lecture had finished and the lecture hall was far behind him. Armin's heart skipped a beat on seeing that there was a small number of messages waiting for him, the vast majority from Eren himself, and began to read them as he began the long walk across campus to attend his part-time job.

Eren

What did you get for lunch?
Ahh shit you probably have class
Just let me know when you're out.
if you liked the hot chocolate you could always get one on the way home😉

Armin
Sorry, you're right, I was in class. My professor is pretty strict when it comes to phones. I've seen him throw them out the window before.

Eren
Damn that is strict

Armin
I went to McDonalds. There's one close to campus. I had a double cheeseburger meal with a milkshake.

Eren
Damn, do you even need any advice on how to fatten yourself up?

Armin
I didn't get to this size without making certain food choices along the way😊
But I kind of really like that you're giving me orders, you know?

Eren
You like it when I tell you what to do? Damn, Armin, you're a feeder's wet dream.

Armin blushed as he joined the queue in Starbucks, his eyes not straying from his phone. His clammy fingers kept catching against the screen as he typed his response, his teeth worrying down against his lower lip. The rest of the world continued to bustle around him, customers talking to one another over steaming cups of coffee, the machines hissing behind the counter as they were put through their paces time and time again, but all Armin could focus on was how Eren's words sank through him, leaving a trail of pleasure in their wake that was threatening to make itself known within the confines of his jeans. He swallowed as he sent his reply, wiping his palms against his thighs.

Armin
Add it to the list of things I didn't realise I was into.

Eren
Then get something to go along with that hot chocolate.
That's an order.

It was considerably more difficult to drink his second hot chocolate that day. Armin attempted it all the same while soaking up the sickly sweetness with bites of a blueberry muffin. Lunch had left him comfortably full, this not-so-little addition weighed heavily in the pit of his stomach. It took every ounce of willpower that Armin had to force the last few crumbs of muffin past his lips, washing it down with a swig of hot chocolate that was so creamy it only seemed to fill him out even further. The waistband of his jeans was starting to dig into his bloated sides, and while his oversized hoodie disguised the cunning curve of his belly, the polo shirt he was required to wear for work only emphasised it. Armin winced as he tugged the hem down, the coarse material continuing to cling stubbornly against his food-packed stomach.

Sending a quick message to Eren to inform him that he wouldn't be able to check his phone for the next four hours, Armin locked his belongings in the locker provided for him, smoothing down his polo shirt one final time in a futile attempt to disguise his bloated belly. Physically, his role wasn't very demanding, Armin just had to sit behind the counter and check people in and out of the computer system. Occasionally he was required to venture forth from behind the reception desk to give directions, but as he worked the busy shift most of his time was spent at the computer. It was the much-needed distraction that Armin needed, he didn't have time to think about his aching stomach when people were approaching the counter one after another. Although Armin could feel his stomach churning, the sound was mostly disguised by the upbeat music playing over the radio system.

Mina relieved Armin from his post at exactly twenty-five past five, she was always prone to arriving for her shift at least five minutes early, and he had never been more grateful to leave. Pulling on his hoodie over his polo shirt, Armin waved at Mina as he left, immediately fishing his phone from where he had stashed it in the depths of his bag. Before he could do anything else, however, his phone purred to life with an incoming call, Eren's name flashing up on the screen. Armin couldn't deny the small jolt of excitement he felt, his finger swiping up to accept the call before his mind could catch up with what he was doing.

“Just finished?”

“Just finished,” Armin confirmed with a small nod that Eren would of course be unable to see, “I only work until half five.”

“What do you do again? I'm sure you've mentioned it before,” Eren trailed off into a thoughtful murmur, “Receptionist, right?”

“That's right,” Armin curled his fingers against the edge of his phone case, “At a gym.”

Eren snorted, followed by barely stifled laughter. “You're fucking with me.”

“It's the on-campus gym,” Armin clarified, finding himself a little smitten at how rough Eren's laugh was compared to his voice, “Really. They needed someone good with computers and numbers. I've been working there since my second year.”

“Even though you clearly don't use the on-site facilities,” Eren noted in clear amusement, “You really are something else, Armin.”

Hearing his name again in that voice made Armin bite down on his lower lip. “Ah, referring to the 'list-of-things-I'm-surprisingly-into', you saying my name is definitely one of those... things.”

“You've been discovering a lot about yourself today,” Eren's response purred into the shell of Armin's ear, “- Armin. So tell me. Just how full are you right now?”

“Very,” Armin gasped, fresh colour rushing to his face at hearing those words in such a public area, “I'm, um, I can't really talk about it right now-”

“So I'll do it for you,” Armin could almost hear the smirk in Eren's tone, “Everything you've eaten. Every last bite. It's weighing down on you, filling you up and pushing you out. You've got a bit of a gut now, right?”

Armin's trembling fingertips brushed against his rounded belly, now buried out of sight beneath his hoodie once again. “I have.”

“Just think, soon you're gonna look like that all the time,” Eren's voice lowered to a spine-tingling murmur, “Even bigger by the time I've finished with you. Whatever you're wearing, that's gonna be way too tight on you. Maybe you won't even be able to squeeze yourself into it in the first place.”

“It already is,” Armin mumbled into his phone as he waited to cross the road, aware of the other pedestrians standing alongside him, “My, um, work shirt. It's quite unforgiving.”

“Fuck,” Eren's breathing grew heavier and Armin couldn't deny the small spark of pride he felt at having caused that, “Imagine someone goin' to the gym to get in shape and there's a cute fatty close to spilling out of his fucking gym uniform. You're gonna be a walking inspiration for them to drop a few pounds right there and then.”

Add 'being humiliated' to his ever-growing list, Armin realised in despair as he finally managed to draw breath. “I'm only there until the end of the semester. I'm not sure how much I'll... achieve.”

“That just means we're gonna have to make sure we fatten you up before you leave,” Eren was quick to reassure, “Speaking of, you're gonna need to get something for dinner. What're you thinking?”

“That I need to lie down,” Armin confessed, able to see his dorm building looming in the near distance, “I can't even think about eating right now.”

Eren's laugh wasn't unkind, almost fond to Armin's ear. “Then leave dinner to me.”

Dinner was a medium cheese pizza, delivered to the lobby of Armin's dorm building by a weary-looking delivery driver. Amazingly there were stirs of hunger behind Armin's fatigue as he carried the warm box back to his room, a brief nap having done wonders for his poor overpacked stomach. Once Armin was inside, with the door locked firmly behind him, he dropped down into his desk chair and began to work. It felt strange to be setting up a stream for an audience of one, even if using Discord was a little less complicated than setting up on Twitch. Armin drummed his fingers against his desk as he waited for Eren to accept his call, his heart fluttering in his chest. The call was accepted and Armin's screen was filled with Eren's user picture, his own image a small square in the corner of the screen. Armin exhaled quietly, he was used to not seeing who he was streaming to, but he still felt a little exposed by the idea that he couldn't see Eren.

“Think of it like a mukbang,” Eren suggested as Armin carefully peeled a slice of pizza away from the rest, “Just act like you usually would.”

Armin often ate while sitting at his desk so that part wasn't so unusual. It was the low purr of Eren's voice in his ears, the knowledge that he was being watched by someone who had grown to know his darkest desires over the course of just a couple of days. He chewed his way through two and a half slices of gooey, cheese-laden pizza until he started to feel full, his stomach still tender and distended from everything he had eaten throughout the course of the day. Armin forced himself to finish the slice he was working on, wiping the grease collecting at the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. Eren's breath hitched in his ear, just harshly enough for the microphone to pick it up, and Armin found himself reaching for another slice before his mind could catch up to what he was doing. It was worth it for the noise that followed, a breathy gasp that trailed into a stifled clearing of the throat.

It felt as if Armin's stomach was bloating outwards with each swallow, over the waistband of his sweatpants and against the worn material of his oversized t-shirt. He slouched down in his chair to try and ease the pressure building within his belly, poking what remained of his new slice through his unwilling lips. Darts of pain shot across Armin's side as he shakily reached for another slice, eyes flicking up almost shyly to his camera. Eren hadn't spoken for a while now, though Armin could occasionally hear him breathing. Armin had to coax the pizza up to his mouth, it had gone from being deliciously gooey to tediously chewy. It was little more than a mixture of salt, fat and dough at this point, almost rubbery beneath his weary teeth. Yet Armin forced himself to keep eating, even when his belly started to throb, rounded out beneath a t-shirt that had once hung from his formerly slim frame.

“Hungrier than you thought?” Eren spoke into Armin's ear, sounding just a little strained.

“Actually I passed being full... a couple of slices ago,” Armin had to catch his breath, his overly full stomach pressing down against him like a lead weight, “I heard you gasp and... I guess it inspired me.”

“Fuck,” Eren's groan trailed off into a low hiss, “Did I unlock a secret hidden kink inside of you or are you doing this to me on purpose?”

Tilting his head back against the chair, Armin grimaced at the sharp pang radiating through his overpacked belly. “Maybe it's a bit of both?”

“Lift your shirt,” Eren commanded huskily, Armin found himself obeying before he had even finished speaking, “Touch it. Hands either side.”

Rolling his t-shirt to sit across his sternum, Armin steepled his trembling fingers across the bow of his stomach. His fingertips could still brush against one another, but only just. Warmth radiated from the lightly flushed skin of his belly, firm yet soft beneath his probing fingers. Armin had never seen it so big, so round and so protruding and Eren's earlier words returned to him; if he kept eating with such fervour then he would look like that all of the time. The smallest pulse of shame was rapidly overwhelmed by a stronger wave of arousal, especially when it was Eren behind every last pound. Being able to pin the blame and his own confused thoughts onto Eren helped, even if it was just because it was proof that Armin wasn't alone in enjoying what was supposed to have been a simple job.

“What would your viewers say if they could see you now?,” Eren's voice flooded into Armin's scattered thoughts, “Stuffed and bloated and gasping for air? Can you even move?”

Bracing his hands against the arms of his chair, Armin gasped at the shot of pain that streaked across his belly the moment he tried to stand up, immediately collapsing back into his seat. He could hear Eren's laughter in his ears, rich and dark and incredible, making Armin blush so deeply it felt as if it sank down to his very bones. It took Armin a couple of minutes to sit up straight, tenderly rubbing his rounded side to try and ease the lingering discomfort. The full weight of everything Armin had eaten that day was weighing down on him, leaving him sluggish and barely able to think beyond the persistent throb of his tightly packed stomach.

“Think of it as practise for when you get bigger,” Eren suggested with wickedness that hummed through Armin's headphones, “You got any pizza left?”

On tilting his head to the side, Armin could see just a couple of slices left congealing on the grease-soaked cardboard. “Two slices.”

“Eat them,” the whispered command from Eren sent shivers down Armin's spine, “I'll make it worth your while.”

“I can't,” Armin groaned, sweeping his hands down over his bulging belly for emphasis, “I don't think I could physically fit anything else inside of me.”

“Not with that attitude. Come on,,” Eren coaxed, equal parts compelling yet demanding, “Anything you want. It's yours.”

“Anything?” Armin looked up at his laptop screen, Eren's avatar staring back unblinkingly at him, “I want to see what you look like.”

Eren responded far more quickly than Armin had expected, his heart fluttering as his easygoing response filtered through Armin's headphones. “Then it's a deal. Finish that pizza and I'll reveal myself..”

It was difficult enough reaching for the pizza, Armin's overstuffed stomach nudging against his upper thighs as he leant across to retrieve both slices at once. They were still warm if a little stiff; had Armin not been so painfully full he would have been tempted to at least heat them up. Instead, he rolled one up, from the tip to the crust, reasoning that it would be easier to consume in few bites as possible. Orange-hued grease leaked onto Armin's fingers, he lapped it with the tip of his tongue before it could drip onto his clothes, taking a large mouthful of pizza to get it over and done with. It wasn't so bad at first, even if his stomach ached in protest, but the second bite was much harder to swallow. Armin had to pause to catch his breath before eating the final part, a shallow gurgle grumbling across the width of his belly.

“Looks like you're starting to sweat there,” Eren tutted slowly, the click of his tongue sharp in Armin's ear, “It's only a medium.”

“Only,” Armin began to roll up the final slice with trembling fingers, “I feel as if I'm about to explode.”

“You are looking very round,,” Eren noted breathlessly, a tremor underlying his words, “Fuck. We've only just started and you're already gonna be the death of me.”

The roof of Armin's mouth burned from the salt as he chewed the final slice of pizza. He swigged water from the bottle on his desk, wincing as his distended stomach ached in protest. He was so full, so ridiculously full, he could feel his skin stretching ever so slightly to accommodate his burgeoning belly. Armin found himself panting after swallowing the final bite of cheese and dough, slouching back in his desk chair after draining the rest of his water. His stomach was pulsating gently, so taut that Armin could barely draw breath. It didn't look nearly as large as it felt, in Armin's mind it should have been at least twice the size yet it only curved outward perhaps a little more than it had done before. Though if Armin hadn't been able to stand before, he couldn't even move within the confines of his chair.

The flicker of Armin's laptop screen caught his attention and, for just a moment, his overstuffed gut was the furthest thing on his mind.

Eren was beautiful. His piercing teal eyes appeared to peer through the laptop screen and into Armin's very soul, framed with dark eyelashes that were long enough to brush down against his cheeks whenever he blinked. Warm brown skin was complemented by thick locks of dark brown hair, just long enough to brush against his jawline in a choppy cut that would have looked wrong on anyone else. He wore a simple black Henley, his shoulders lean but strong-looking beneath the soft material, and was lounging in a leather desk chair large enough to swallow even his tall frame. Armin could see floor-to-ceiling windows in the background, overlooking a cityscape of some description, not that he could pay attention to anything other than the handsome face of his mysterious benefactor.

“I've got the feeling this is going to be the start of something wonderful,” Eren noted with a slow smile, Armin's heart leaping up into his throat at the flash of white teeth against his dark skin, “And by the time I've finished with you, a meal like that'll be no more than a snack.”

“If you keep feeding me at... at this rate,” Armin ran his hand over his taut side, in an attempt to soothe the grumbling from within, “I won't be able to fit... to it into my Zelda t-shirt at all.”

Eren ran the tip of his tongue over his lips, his eyes darkening to the colour of a storm-drenched ocean, “That'd be even better. Do you want me to leave you to digest?”

“You've only just... appeared,” Armin grimaced on trying to sit up, his bloated belly throbbing in protest, “You don't... have to go so soon.”

“There'll be other times,” Eren lowered his voice, a soothing murmur in Armin's ear, “So many other times. So roll yourself to bed because we're going to be doing this all over again tomorrow.”

-

It felt like months had passed before Armin could see any notable changes to his body, beyond the fact that his belly was almost always a little distended due to the sheer amount of food he was packing into it on a daily basis. Instead, he felt himself becoming softer through the fit of his clothes, the hem of his t-shirts kept hitching up whenever he raised his arms and the waistband of his jeans kept catching against his thighs when he pulled them on. Armin had been convinced that any extra weight would naturally settle at his stomach so it had been surprising to notice the fine layer of padding coating his hips and backside. Squeezing into some of his less forgiving jeans was becoming quite the task even when the waistband sat beneath the subtle curve of his belly, the denim instead straining over his plumper rear.

But pulling on the faded green Legend of Zelda t-shirt that Eren wanted him to grow out of felt as if Armin had barely made any progress at all. It wasn't large on him, but it wasn't tight either, it skimmed his perpetually bloated belly but hadn't quite started to cling to the excess flesh. Armin even found himself playing back the video of when he had last worn it on stream, back when Eren had asked him for a belly shot, the day that Eren had asked Armin to get fatter for him, just to try and make some comparisons. He perhaps looked a little puffier now, Armin decided as he lifted his glasses up into his hair to squint at the screen, but the t-shirt only appeared to be a little tighter. Then he watched as his past self rose up onto his feet to give Eren the belly shot he had wanted and something clicked sharply in Armin's mind, his finger tapping the pause button before he was truly aware of what he was doing.

The jeans that past Armin wore in the video were the exact same jeans Armin had been barely to pull on just last week. They were unmistakable, an unusual shade of grey-blue, with a white stitched wave motif on the back pocket. But on past Armin they fit, he realised with the strangest combination of exhilaration and astonishment. Then Armin was up out of his chair, pawing through his drawers for that same pair of jeans. Unfolding them with a sharp flap of denim, Armin scrambled to pull them on. His heart fluttered the moment they briefly got stuck against his thighs only for them to become firmly wedged beneath his ass. Hooking his fingers into the belt loops, Armin found himself jumping on the spot with each yank on the denim, his soft and unfed belly jiggling throughout. But the waistband refused to be coaxed up over the swell of his backside, the merciless fabric clinging to his undeniably thicker thighs.

After taking a picture of himself, Armin added it alongside a still from the video he had been watching to see the comparison with his own two eyes. It was hard to believe how thin past Armin looked, when back then Armin had never been in denial that he was starting to get chubby. He could clearly see that most of his extra weight had settled over his lower body, coating his hips and thighs and rounding out his ass, while the gentle swell of his belly only stuck out a little further than before. Armin traced the new curves of his body on his laptop screen, flustered at how much he had changed without really seeing it. He sent the comparison image to Eren and his phone lit up almost immediately with a new message.

Armin
😺

Eren
holy fuck you just made my morning
spat out my coffee, like, everywhere

Armin
Not much progress with the t-shirt though.

Eren
fuck that, have you seen your ass??

Armin's phone buzzed as he was part way through a response, his eyes widening as his banking app informed him that two and a half grand had been deposited into his account.

Armin
You didn't have to do that!

Eren
hey I promised half when I saw progress, right?
and that is fucking progress oh my god

you being bottom heavy is gonna make this really interesting y'know
Armin
Even if it takes longer for me to fulfil my end of the deal?

Eren
even then haven't you heard about enjoying the journey not just the destination? pretty sure my sister had a poster with something like that on it

As Armin's appetite and capacity grew in order to meet the demands of his new diet, Eren was quick to add to it whenever Armin reached the end of the day without being too stuffed to move. Breakfast had gone from a simple pastry to an entire meal, snacks were both calorie-packed and plentiful and Eren had even coaxed a new meal between Armin finishing his final lecture for the day and starting his afternoon job. Entering the gym with his bloated belly straining against his front gave Armin an undeniable thrill, even if his unforgiving work polo shirt was only growing tighter with each passing week. It had gotten to the point where Armin had to wear a longer top underneath it to prevent the lower part of his belly from peeking out, although it helped little with how the sleeves pinched around his soft upper arms.

When the weather grew warmer Armin was grateful for the excuse to stop wearing jeans, as there was only one pair left that he could still squeeze into although he had to lie down on the floor in order to fasten the button, an odd combination of trepidation and excitement fluttered in his chest on looking through his shorts and lighter clothing. They looked so small when Armin held them up against his much softer body and his suspicions were confirmed as he tried to pull on the one pair of shorts that had always been a little loose on him. The uneasy hope building within him abruptly flickered and died as he managed to hike the waistband up over his increasingly generous backside, only for the button to refuse to fasten over the tremendous swell of his belly. It wasn't even close, a good few inches of stubborn flab separating the button from its hole no matter how deeply Armin tried to suck his stomach in.

Unable to put it off any longer, Armin sank down into his desk chair with a sigh, his soft belly spilling through his open shorts and threatening to brush up against his bare thighs. He had to start sizing up before the lingering warmth of spring melted into the balmy summer that their city was notorious for. Fortunately, Armin thought grimly to himself as he pulled up the website where he bought the vast majority of his wardrobe, his clothes were never all that expensive outside of his graphic t-shirts. At first, Armin only went up a single size, adding items of clothing that were more or less similar to what he currently owned, only to hesitate on catching a glimpse of his pale stomach out of the corner of his eye. It was with a small and undeniable shiver of excitement that he went back through his basket, adding another size to everything that he had selected so far.

Resisting the urge to replace the clothes he would need when autumn rolled around, although Armin wasn't entirely sure if it was because he would be back at his old weight or perhaps even fatter than he was now, he placed his order. Given that Armin had nothing to do until his scheduled stream later that night, and he wasn't in the mood to eat anything that he currently had to hand, he pulled on a pair of much more forgiving sweats and headed out to the nearby Subway. Only to see a familiar couple in the queue ahead of him. Historia instinctively looked back over her shoulder on hearing him, the corner of her lips curving up into a smile as she met his gaze. Ymir followed suit, her eyes widening dramatically as she looked Armin up and down.

“You know that the freshmen fifty was a warning, not a suggestion, right?” Ymir announced just a little too loudly, though thankfully her voice was lost beneath the general chatter of the other patrons.

“Ymir!” Historia scolded, elbowing the taller girl in the side, “I'm sorry, Armin. She shouldn't be allowed out in public.”

“Ahh, it's okay,” Armin ran his hand over the back of his neck, willing himself not to blush, “She isn't wrong.”

“No, but she could be nicer about it,” Historia's beautiful blue eyes narrowed briefly in Ymir's direction, “You look good. This look really works for you.”

“Um,” Armin trailed off as Historia smoothed down his t-shirt “Thank you?”

“You into chubby guys now?” Ymir groaned, her lanky arms slung over Historia's shoulders, “Do I got to be worried?”

“I can appreciate other people without being attracted to them,” Historia tilted her head to one side, strands of blond hair slipping out from behind her ear, “You should think about updating your wardrobe, though. You'd look so cute with some tailored pieces.”

“Hey, we're up,” Ymir tugged Historia towards the exasperated-looking worker waiting for their order, “C'mon babe, I'm starving.”

“Oh, just order me the usual,” Historia wriggled stubbornly beneath Ymir's grip, her eyes not leaving Armin, “You should join us.”

That was how Armin found himself awkwardly sharing a booth with Ymir and Historia, pinned beneath their bemused stares as he peeled the paper away from his sandwich. As with everything else that he ate, Eren had eventually encouraged Armin to move on from the six-inch subs to the footlongs, forgoing the salad on Chicken Bacon Ranch in favour of extra cheese. Each bite felt more decadent than the last, especially when compared to Historia's salad and Ymir's six-inch Meatball Mariana, and yet all Armin could think about was how the footlong had gone from being an excessive meal that would leave him with leftovers to something that he could easily devour before he left the shop.

“So,” Historia began innocently as she reached for her bottle of water, unscrewing the already loosened cap with her thumb, “Is this guy of yours a sugar daddy or what?”

“Wh-what?” Armin could only stare at Historia as Ymir snorted into her napkin, “No, he's not like that.”

“Ohhh,” Historia smiled, slow and vulpine-like, “So you do have a guy. Thought so. It all adds up, you know?”

“It does?” Armin offered weakly, desperately wishing that thought of a cover story for Eren and everything before being challenged about it.

“You went from being really careful with money to actually treating yourself,” Historia held up a slender finger for each point that she counted off, her coral pink nail varnish catching the light, “You're always looking at your phone and smiling when you think no-one's watching you. In fact, you seem a lot happier than you used to be. And there's the relationship weight you've put on. All the signs are there.”

“I think it's less relationship weight and more the fact you keep stuffing your face,” Ymir suggested slyly on taking a drink, this time dodging Historia's elbow, “Hey, am I wrong?”

“Oh, well,” Armin's mind worked frantically to spin what Historia was telling him into something believable, his heart racing, “Yes. I mean, it's long distance. We met online. But, um, I guess I wanted to see where it was going before I said anything?”

Historia nodded, her lips pursed thoughtfully together. “Knew it. He's not weird, is he? Or, like, fifty or something?”

“No, he's around our age,” as the words left Armin, he realised he didn't actually know how old Eren was, he looked around their age but he could have also been a little older, “He watches my streams. So I've known him for a while now.”

“Is he cute?” Historia's eyes lit up, “Do you have any pictures?”

“He's kind of a private person,” Armin admitted, hoping that he was being more convincing than he sounded, “But he is really, really attractive. He's got the most incredible eyes. Even in pictures.”

“So when are you going to meet him?” Historia asked with a raised eyebrow, “Or are we talking long distance?”

Not for the first time, Armin found himself hesitating. What he knew about Eren had been gleaned during their conversations, such as the fact he had a sister and that his father was a businessman. Beyond that, Armin barely knew anything about the person who was spending vast amounts of money on him. Eren had to live in a similar timezone, with how their schedules lined up with one another, but that could have been anywhere. Then there was the deal which their entire 'relationship' was built upon. Would Eren go back to just being another viewer on Armin's streams after their deal was completed? Or would he leave Armin's life completely? Eren had rapidly become such a prominent part of Armin's day-to-day life that the thought of him not being in it made him feel a little sick.

“Armin?” Historia's gentle question pulled Armin out of his thoughts, “Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” Armin exhaled, forcing a smile to ease the concern in Historia's expression, “We haven't really talked about that just yet. I guess we're still seeing how everything goes.”

Armin's pensive mood continued long after he had arrived back home. He spent his afternoon preparing for his stream as his schedule had started to slip recently, his stomach churning anxiously as he set out his art things. In an attempt to lift his mood, Armin found himself eating anything close to hand, the leftover Chinese takeout from the night before, a half-full bag of potato chips that were starting to go stale, followed by an entire sleeve of cookies. With only ten minutes left before he was due to start streaming, Armin was stuffed, his protruding stomach visible even beneath his looser t-shirts. Becoming steadily more exasperated with each item that didn't fit how he wanted it to, Armin eventually just dropped himself down into his desk chair to start the stream, uncaring of how the Resident Evil S.T.A.R.S logo had to stretch across his bloated belly.

As it was an art stream, Armin had two cameras trained on him; one overhead to show his forearms and hands as he drew and the other showing him at his desk. It was difficult to get back into the flow of sketching while talking to his viewers when his stomach kept nudging up against the edge of the desk, preventing Armin from working at a comfortable angle. Eren entered the chat room to the usual flurry of greetings as a regular and Armin struggled to find the right words to welcome him. Talking about anything that came to mind normally came naturally to Armin, now he was unable to think of anything beyond his and Eren's deal. Eventually, Armin settled on discussing the fact that university was rapidly coming to an end, answering various questions from his viewers about what his plans for the immediate future were.

Eren
your hands are getting all cute and plump
you've even getting knuckle-dimples

How was it that just a couple of sentences from Eren were able to cut through the uncertain mood that hadn't left him since his conversation with Historia? Unable to respond while streaming, Armin lowered his pen to flex his hands in front of the camera. Eren was right, Armin's hands had gotten softer, little dips appearing in the fine layer of fat where his knuckles would have once protruded. Armin took up his pen to continue drawing, answering one of his viewer's questions about what he was going to miss about attending university, able to see his phone screen with his and Eren's private conversation open on the screen out of the corner of his eye. As if silently waiting for instructions.

Eren
add that you're gonna miss the food
like it isn't obvious just looking at you🤩

“And, it's a little embarrassing to admit,” Armin continued with a sheepish smile, attention back on his art, “But I'm going to miss the food too. But I suppose that's kind of obvious, huh?”

Chat was filled with a mixture of shocked and laughing emotes, Armin blushed as one of his regulars sent one hundred bits attached to a message that only read 'Freshman fifteen!!'. Armin's heart raced as he tried to get back on topic, his thoughts consumed by the fact that his weight gain hadn't gone completely unnoticed by his viewers. He distracted himself by tackling the finer outlining on his sketch, so caught up in his work that he could only pay attention to the chat rather than Eren's private messages. Once he had finished, Armin risked a glance back at his phone, a small shiver of delight going through him on seeing the words waiting there for him. Even if this little game of theirs would eventually come to an end, it didn't mean that Armin couldn't enjoy what time they did have left.

Eren
you're so eager to please today
i'm into it
how about a belly shot?

Armin's face cam was angled slightly differently for his art streams; it captured his profile at a three-quarter angle shot rather than facing him directly, and used a wider shot to better capture him working at his drafting table. So Armin knew, as he pulled himself up to his feet with the abashed excuse that he needed to stretch, that it would provide Eren with a far more satisfying 'belly shot' than before. And Armin's stomach was so much bigger now, protruding out further than ever from his impromptu stuffing before the stream had started. He rose up onto his tiptoes into a stretch, still talking to his audience, moving on to the subject of where he was going to be living after leaving his university apartment. As Armin dropped back down into his seat, he could see that Eren had sent six-thousand bits, attached to a message in the public chat stating that it was apparently a 'house-warming gift'.

Eren
!!!!!
just so you know you get twice as much as you did last time cos you're twice as big

“Wow, thank you for the bits, Yeagerbomb,” Armin hummed, taking up his pen again just for something to twirl between his fingers, “You spoil me~ My apartment isn't much, I think it's even smaller than this place, but it is in a really good location. I've already booked a date for the internet to be installed, so I'll be back up and running once I've moved everything in. I can give you guys a tour once it's done, but really, there isn't a lot to it.”

The stream came to a natural finish not long after that and Armin heaved himself out of his chair to take an excessively long shower to try and soothe his overpacked stomach. It felt a little less bloated afterwards, as Armin pulled on a pair of pyjama pants that had once hung from his hips, though no less prominent. The elasticated waistband now sat comfortably across his belly, the once loose legs now clinging to his thicker thighs. Armin hesitated for only a moment before grabbing the Legend of Zelda t-shirt, his heart fluttering anxiously as he pulled it on over his still-damp hair.

It was tight, skin-tight, clinging to Armin's belly so snugly that he could see the dip of his navel. The triforce logo was stretched across the subtle swell of Armin's chest, the hem sitting barely an inch below his waistline. Plucking the worn material away from his skin, Armin let it go, watching as it immediately snapped back into place. Undeniable proof that he had only gotten fatter since he had last tried it on. A mixture of emotions flooded Armin as he tidied up after his shower, delight at how pleased Eren would be to see more progress but wary at the simple fact that his time with Eren could be coming to an end. At least Armin could appreciate his much rounder form, his belly arcing out far enough now to conceal his own feet unless he made a concentrated effort to peer down at them.

“Damn,,” Eren dragged the word out as he leant in close to his screen during their private stream later that evening, “That has gotten real tight on you. Looks like you're getting a bit of a chest too.”

“You never did really specify what you meant by 'filling out my t-shirt',” Armin mused out loud, “Could you go into more detail?”

“I always figured it'd be when it starts to fit you like your work shirt does,” Eren explained, leaning back and drawing an imaginary line across his own narrow waistline, just above his navel, “Like when the hem starts sitting about here? Why you're not having second thoughts are you?”

Relief surged throughout Armin's body, chasing away the rest of the tension that had been lurking there since his talk with Historia. “No. The opposite, in fact.”

“Huh?” Eren narrowed his eyes, tipping his head to the side, “Is this why you were acting all weird and quiet earlier?”

“Sort of,” Armin exhaled, his fingers curling against his pyjama bottoms, “I'm really enjoying this. I like spending time with you and, and I just don't want that to end.”

“Do you really think I'm gonna put all this time and money and effort into fattening you up, only to ditch you when you're exactly where I want you to be?” Eren snorted, sinking back into his plush office chair, “I can tell you're not a business major. You're my most important investment. I don't plan on letting you go.”

“Oh. I mean, thank you,” it was now or never, Armin realised, his heart thrumming in his chest from the almost possessive lilt to Eren's words. “I want to know more about you.”

“Sure,” Eren's smirk widened, teeth flashing sharp and brilliant against his tan skin, “I think you've earned it. You get five questions.”

The first question came easily to Armin. “How old are you?”

“Twenty four,” Eren responded easily, “Twenty five this year.”

“Just a few years older than me,” Armin mused, he had always assumed that Eren wasn't far off his own age, “Where do you live? Not the exact location, or anything. Just... vaguely.”

“I'm on the East Coast,” Eren offered with a casual shrug of his shoulder, “Right on the other side of the country.”

“Further than I thought,” Armin admitted, a small part of him had hoped that Eren was only a couple of states away, “What do you do for a living?”

“I work at my dad's company,” a furrow appeared briefly over Eren's brow, his hands steepled together, “Office work, basically.”

That didn't quite explain how Eren was able to shower him with so much money, Armin thought to himself, although it could be that Eren was wealthier than he was letting on if his father owned his own company. “How did you end up choosing me to, ah, put on weight for you?”

“I used to look for content that featured heavier guys, but everything I found was always the same, catering to an audience that was exactly like me,” Eren lowered his head to rest his chin against his fingers, “I wanted someone just for me. So I looked for content that was focused on something else but just happened to have a fat guy in it. You were only a little chubby back when I found your channel but, fuck it, you were cute and you were always so passionate about your art or whatever game you were playing. Then you started gaining weight and, somehow, you became even better. One night I came home from some gala or something, completely trashed, and you were streaming in that same t-shirt you can barely fit into right now, and you looked so fucking good with that gut of yours starting to show. So, I figured I'd test the waters by asking for a belly shot.”

“So you were drunk when you told me I was getting fat,” Eren's random request suddenly made a lot more sense to Armin with that in mind, “That explains a lot.”

“Drunk enough to finally have the balls to ask you for what I wanted, but not so drunk that I didn't know what I was doing,” Eren clarified, a mischievous glint in his eye, “I thought you'd tell me to piss off, only y'know, far more politely, so when you were like 'sure' I thought I'd had a stroke. Then when you actually did it, I knew that I had to see if you'd be willing to get heavier for me. For the right price, of course.”

The final question slipped from Armin's lips, a thought that had been lingering at the forefront of his mind since speaking with Historia. “Would you ever want to meet me in real life?”

“Hey, if we lived closer to one another, I'd of already dragged that fat ass of yours to a hotel room,” Eren answered so swiftly and so surely that it left Armin breathless, “It's like... I don't know, baking a delicious fuck-off cake and only getting to look at it. I want to feel the heft of that gut of yours with my own hands, I want to know if you're just as soft as you look. I want to sink my fingers into your thighs and watch them wobble under my touch.”

“So that's a yes,” Armin managed in spite of his hammering heartbeat, “I... want all of that too. You've already left such an impact on me with just your words. To also feel your touch would be much too incredible for me to even imagine.”

“One day, who knows?” Eren shrugged his shoulder, his smile warming into a twist so beautiful that Armin almost forgot to breathe, “So, it's my turn. You are over eighteen, right? Because you've got that baby face going on and I don't want to go to jail.”

Armin huffed a laugh of surprise, touching a rounded cheek self-consciously. “I'm twenty-one.”

“Figured since you're finishing uni soon, but you never know, you're smart enough to have skipped a few grades,” Eren shook his head, dark strands of hair falling over his brilliant eyes, “Let's see, not to sound like a total creep but I know where you live and what you do for a living. Pretty sure you said you weren't always chubby, so when did that happen?”

“When I started university,” Armin sank back in his seat, “I was actually pretty scrawny as a kid. Don't laugh, it's true! The town I grew up in was in the middle of nowhere, the nearest fast food place was at least ten miles away. So when I came here and found myself surrounded by restaurants and cafes and takeaways I suppose that I went a little... crazy. Especially when I needed something quick that I could eat between lectures.”

“You're a living, breathing example of the freshmen fifteen.” Eren noted sagely, his gaze raking up and down Armin's rotund form, “Well, more like freshman fifty.”

“You're the second person to say that to me today,” Armin demurred, fingers rubbing at his tender side, “Maybe it's true.”

“Then that leads me to my next question,” Eren brushed his hair back behind his ear, his eyes darkening,”How much do you weigh? If you don't know you can, I dunno, make an educated guess or something.”

“Well,” Armin exhaled, pleasure twinging throughout his gut as it expanded outwards beneath his hands, “My driver's license says 120lbs. That was back before I started university. I'd say I've probably put on a few pounds since then.”

“That's it,” Eren sat up, his eyes focused intently on the screen as he began typing, “I'm sending you a set of scales and you're gonna tell me just how heavy you've gotten the second they arrive. Because there's no way in hell you're anywhere close to one-twenty anymore.”

A comfortable silence settled between them as Eren presumably researched the best set of scales that he could have shipped to Armin in the shortest amount of time. Armin took the chance to look through his social media, absent-mindedly rubbing his gut as he scrolled. It was fascinating how the fullness clouding the top part of his stomach would sink down to pooch out his lower belly as he digested his food, the groans and gurgles growing steadily lighter until they were swallowed beneath an ever softening layer of flab. The evidence of his binge earlier had melted away, though Armin fancied that he was still just a little rounder than he usually was.

“You've said that you're into me telling you what to do,” Armin jumped a little at Eren's sudden question, “What are your exact limits on that sexually?”

“I suppose I would refuse to do anything illegal,” Armin's face burned, he wished he had more time to linger over what he would and wouldn't do for Eren, but it felt right to rattle off as many things as he could in the heat of the moment, “Or anything that would cause harm to others. Or permanent harm to myself. And I'd have the right to back out of anything that made me feel uncomfortable.”

Eren had been nodding along solemnly to Armin's list, his dark brows furrowed in thought. “Then let me show you exactly what I'd want to do with you if we met.”

The blinds had been lowered, the slats closed against the dying rays of sunlight. A string of gently glowing fairy lights provided enough light for Armin to still be visible on Eren's screen, but not so vivid to make him feel self-conscious. Pushing his chair away to give Eren a better angle, Armin lowered the back with a tug of the lever beneath the seat. He felt strangely exposed sat away from his desk, even if he could still see Eren's image on his laptop screen and hear his steady breathing coming through his wireless headphones. Armin was already growing hard from the anticipation of waiting for Eren's next instruction, his clammy fingers curling unsteadily into the worn material of his pyjama bottoms.

“That shirt needs to come off. I want to see every last inch of you,” Armin peeled the fabric away from his freshly showered skin before Eren had even finished speaking, tossing the crumpled t-shirt to the side, “Damn, you're starting to get tits. Squeeze them. Show me how big they're getting.”

Cupping his swollen pecs allowed Armin to giddily realise how prominent his chest had grown, into plush little buds that would fill a training bra. His fingers sank down into softness, nipples puffy beneath the pads of his thumbs. It had been impossible to ignore the stubborn swell of his gut or how his full thighs had started to brush up against one another, but this, these, had escaped Armin's notice completely. The fat gathered there was different, buttery soft compared to the firmer chub padding out his stomach and lower body. He ran his finger along the underside of one 'breast', testing the weight of it against his fingertips.

“That tiny roll of fat sitting on top of your gut,” Eren began lowly, nodding as Armin's fingers drifted down to pinch it between his finger and thumb, “Yeah, that. You're starting to get a shelf there. Few more pounds and you can rest a soda on it. I just want to bite it, you know? See if it's as soft as it looks.”

“Actually,” Armin slouched down in his chair, running his fingers over the protruding roll of fat, “It already works if I'm at the right angle.”

“You've no idea how fucking hot that is,” Eren groaned longingly, “I'd wedge a beer there and drink it right from the source. And that belly of yours, fuck me. It's so big now. And your belly button, it's so fucking wide. I want to see how deep it goes.”

Slipping his finger into his navel, Armin felt a small spark of pride at how his finger was swallowed up past the first knuckle. Asides from the top most roll, his stomach was round and smooth, arcing out in mimicry of an expectant mother. Tiny rolls of fat rippled down Armin's rounded sides, each one spreading fluidly into the much grander swell of his gut. Like streams into a river, Armin noted thoughtfully as he swept his fingers between the rolls. On hearing Eren's breath catch, Armin took the initiative and grasped his belly between both hands, lifting it up from where it was starting to encroach onto his thighs. It was lighter than he expected, melting easily into his grasp.

On meeting Eren's gaze, his pupils blown wide, Armin let go. It fell, the rounded underside bouncing down before jiggling back up into place. Awe swelled in Armin's chest on seeing how the pale flab rippled, quivering beneath his fingers until it settled. A strangled sound in his ear made Armin look up at Eren, his handsome face taut as he bit down hard on his lower lip. His hands were out of sight, but Armin could see the tension flexing in his upper arms. Eren's cool and casual demeanour had shattered, revealing the raw desperation underneath.

“Pants off,” Eren demanded lowly, his brow furrowing, “Now.”

Faint pink lines encircled Armin's rounded hips from where the waistband had dug into his excess flesh. He lifted himself out of his chair with a small grunt of effort, coaxing his pyjama pants down to his knees before they fell the rest of the way unaided. As Armin took his seat once again, he caught sight of himself on his laptop screen, in the small preview window overshadowed beneath Eren's own. Exhilaration coursed throughout Armin's veins on seeing his plump, pale body filling out his chair, his protruding belly prominent enough to completely conceal his underwear from view. The underside of his gut brushed against Armin's groin, a dark pulse of pleasure shooting throughout him in response.

“You're so fucking round,” Eren exhaled roughly, his eyes lidded as he slumped back in his chair, “So fucking soft. I want to... to dig my fingers down as far as they'll go. Suck it in, chubs. I want to see what's under that gut..”

The nickname sank through Armin's skin to his very core, shivers of delight radiating throughout every single pound of fat clinging to his frame. He inhaled, watching in morbid fascination as his stomach receded, shrinking back between his hips to reveal his underwear straining across the tops of his thighs. At one point, Armin could suck his belly in far enough to give the illusion of a mostly flat midsection, now a stubborn slab of quivering fat remained, no matter how deeply he inhaled. Armin's little-used abdominal muscles were starting to burn, he sank his palms down into the layer of flab, now just able to brush his fingertips against one another.

“I can see you struggling,” Eren's head lolled back, his long fingers frantically unfastening the front of his jeans, “All that fat you're holding back. I bet it hurts. But you don't get to let go until I tell you.”

Trembling from the effort of keeping his stomach sucked in, a quiet whimper slipped from the corner of Armin's mouth on seeing Eren touch himself through the opening of his jeans. “Please... I can't keep holding it in.”

“Keep going!” Eren growled, freeing himself with a flourish, “There's... there's no hiding just how fat you've gotten.”

“I know,” Armin bit down on his lower lip, aching with the desire to let his stomach swell back out, “Please... I need to...”

“Fine,” Eren hissed, stroking himself as he stared intensely into the screen, “Let it all out, fatty.”

Armin had intended to exhale slowly, allowing his stomach to expand like gently rising dough beneath his fingers, but his sore muscles forced his belly outwards so suddenly that his hands were yanked apart to rest on either side of his gut. To Armin's startled gaze, it looked as if he had just blown up to his current size in a matter of seconds, the notion only making him grow harder. His knuckles nudged the underside of his stomach as he palmed the outside of his underwear, the soft material already warm and damp beneath his fingertips. Eren's ragged breathing threatened to overwhelm Armin's senses, his eyes sliding closed as he slid his fingers into his underwear.

“Don't forget,” Eren's voice was liquid velvet, pouring into Armin's fragmented thoughts, “That I'm not finished with you yet. You might think that you're fat now, and you are. So fucking fat. But you're only going to get fatter.”

“Eren,” the name fell from Armin's mouth as he touched himself, his skin tingling from even the lightest brush, “I'm already so heavy.”

“And you'll get heavier still,” Eren's throaty gasps were accompanied by a distant rhythmic thudding that could have only been his own hand, “All that weight is going to your ass and thighs, you're gonna be so fucking wide by the time your belly catches up to the rest of you. When I get down between those thighs I'm never gonna be able to fight my way back out.”

The thought had crossed Armin's mind before, that his steadily thickening hips and thighs would leave him much bigger than he had expected, but to hear it from Eren's own lips made him buck up into his palm with a short cry. “If you touch me the... same way your words touch me... I won't ever let you go.”

“I did this to you without lifting a finger,” Eren laughed, dark and brilliant against the sound of his rough breathing, “Just... think of what I can do to you with my... own two hands.”

Eren's release came in the form of a guttural yell, the sound alone enough to push Armin to the edge of his own pleasure-filled release. Armin shivered as he kept coming against his twitching fingers, every single coherent thought leaving him in favour of the powerful satisfaction seeping down to his very soul. He sank back bonelessly into his chair, watching as Eren swept his hair back from his clammy forehead, a dusky flush staining his dark skin. Eren looked beautiful post-release, wild-eyed and flustered, dishevelled and imperfect and more stunning than before. Summoning up what little strength he had left, Armin cleaned himself up, vowing to take yet another shower when he was finally able to move without his trembling legs collapsing from underneath him.

“Well,” Eren spoke at long last, his voice hoarse and catching at the edges, “I'm going to save my final question for when... I can think straight.”

While university had ended, Armin didn't feel like he was fully prepared for the adult world. He had managed to find a small studio apartment in the heart of the city where the rent wasn't too extortionate, even if it was actually smaller than the student apartment he had left behind. The view wasn't anything spectacular, although it did look nice after the sun had set and the city lights had flared to life, so Armin made sure to set up his desk and laptop in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Rummaging around with the wires beneath his desk was tougher than Armin had thought it would be, his stomach kept squashing up against his thighs and he was left breathless by the time everything was in the right place. He wriggled out from underneath his desk, strands of fair hair clinging to his clammy cheeks.

Most of Armin's furniture had come straight from his childhood bedroom at his grandfather's house, which had been kept in storage ever since the house had been sold off after his death. He couldn't help but pay attention to how different it seemed now that he was on the way to being twice the size he had been before he had gone to university, the crest of his belly nudged stubbornly against the edge of his desk whenever he sat at it and his single bed had never seemed so small. Along with the furniture were several cardboard boxes, filled the books and clothes and other miscellaneous items that Armin hadn't taken to university with him. By the time Armin had found places for most of them in his apartment, it was starting to feel a little more like home.

Armin was fortunate to find a job just days after moving in, at an office just a couple of blocks away. Balancing a full-time job with streaming and making time for Eren was more difficult than Armin had ever anticipated, and he made the difficult decision to drop a couple of streams during the week. Those long, lazy evenings where Armin would stuff himself under Eren's watchful eye were a thing of the past, the best Armin could do was eat his dinner in front of Eren during the nights when they could both spare a couple of hours. Eventually, Armin did become used to his new routine, aided by the fact that he found office work surprisingly easy, especially after having spent the vast majority of his years sitting staring at a computer screen.

And a mostly sedimentary job did wonders for Armin's increasing waistline. The Starbucks around the corner had quickly become acquainted with Armin's usual order of hot chocolate, to the extent that most of the staff began making it as soon as he entered the door. The same went for the quaint family-owned sandwich shop nearby, where Armin often found a stealthily added cookie or brownie tucked somewhere in the brown paper bag containing his order. It came as a startling revelation that this part of the city hadn't known Armin when he was thin, or even just slightly chubby before Eren had entered his life, instead, they had only ever seen him as the plump blond who ordered far too much hot chocolate on a daily basis. Armin found himself strangely thrilled at the idea as if he had fully settled into the role that Eren had helped create for him.

The hot and humid summer had finally released its hold on the city, a cool autumn breeze sweeping in from across the water. According to the scales that Eren had sent him, Armin had gained around thirty pounds since he had first weighed himself, taking him to just over 250lbs. The weight had continued to settle around Armin's midsection and lower body, granting him quite the spherical figure. One that was only emphasised by the tailored fit of his work clothes, Armin never felt larger than he did when he was forced to fasten the waistband of his slacks across the prominent curve of his stomach so he could keep his shirt tucked in. It always gave his stomach the appearance of a hot air balloon, his shirts rippling against his sides as they struggled to contain his plump belly.

“So,” Eren leant forwards during their conversation one evening, a lazy smile curling a the corner of his lips, “I wasn't gonna bring it up, because honestly the fatter you get the better it is for me, but you haven't tried that Zelda t-shirt of yours on lately, have you?”

Astonishment tinged with just a bit of guilt swept throughout Armin, his eyes growing wide as he realised that he had completely forgotten about that part of their deal. “Um, no. What gave it away?”

“Ah, I don't know, the fact that you've gotten quite a lot fatter since I last saw you in it,” Eren's eyes glistened, a wicked smirk curving over his lips, “Go try it on. I can't be any more subtle than that.”

Armin found the t-shirt folded neatly amongst his pyjama tops, his heart already starting to race as he unfolded it, it had never looked so small to him. And the snugness was evident from the moment he pulled it on over his head, the sleeves biting into his fleshy upper arms, the worn material snagging tightly against his full chest. He tugged on the hem with tingling fingers, his excitement building as it refused to go past the deep slash of his belly button. Armin ran his hands over the underside of his belly that protruded out stubbornly from beneath the hem, unable to stop mentally comparing himself to an extremely pale Winnie the Pooh. Discarding his pyjama pants to complete the look, Armin looked down instinctively to admire his full thighs, only for a shiver to run through him on not being able to immediately see them past his own swollen gut.

“Fuuuuck,” Eren exhaled as Armin padded back into view, “You really went above and beyond.”

“You did all the hard work,” Armin reminded him on taking his seat, his belly spreading onto the tops of his bare thighs, “Although I never realised that I would get quite this big.”

“That's what you get when it all goes to your ass first,” Eren grinned, leaning into the screen as if that would allow him to see Armin better, “I told you to grow too big for your shirt, not burst out of it completely, big guy.”

This time Armin wasn't surprised when his phone informed him that a deposit had been made into his account, it was the number that made him gasp out loud. “Ten thousand? Eren, that wasn't the deal!”

“Maybe I'm paying by the pound,” Eren steepled his fingers together, paired with a crooked smile. “Fuck it, you've earned it.”

Armin wasn't sure what he had expected when their deal came to an end. Back when he had first started, Armin had assumed it would be like the end of a particularly tough exam season, and he would be left feeling exhausted yet relieved when he could finally stop stuffing himself until he was too full to move. Instead, he was filled with a strange sense of melancholy at the loss of his goal, even if he was fairly certain he didn't want to get too much bigger. Armin ran his hands over his exposed gut, struggling to decide what he was feeling now it was all over. The ten thousand dollars sitting in his bank account helped, but at this stage, it felt more like a bonus to the overall experience, even if he had gone into it mostly for the money.

“You touch your gut when you're thinking, that's cute,” Eren's voice broke into Armin's self-reflection, with the force of a wave crashing upon a lonely shore, “Anyway, are you hungry? Have you eaten?”

“Not yet,” Armin shook his head, he had been about to order takeout before Eren had asked him about his t-shirt, “Why?”

Eren's smile grew, bright enough to ignite fireworks within Armin's chest. “Leave it to me.”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted their conversation around forty minutes later. Excusing himself, Armin pulled his dressing gown on before answering the door to a delivery driver who was holding a familiar pizza box in his hands. Armin had only just accepted it when the man delved into the insulated bag hanging at his side, retrieving a large brown paper bag with the McDonalds logo emblazoned on the side. This was swiftly followed by two take-out containers from Starbucks, and finally, a cardboard drinks tray holding a McDonalds cup and two Starbucks ones. Armin's face grew warm as he hurried to make room for everything on the table just inside his apartment, but the driver didn't appear to be fazed in the slightest and merely told Armin to have a good night before taking his leave.

“This is the food from our first day of doing this,” Armin realised out loud on returning to his and Eren's conversation, surprised that Eren had remembered every last item, “That feels like such a long time ago.”

“Good eye,” Eren raised a bottle of beer up the screen in mimicry of a toast “Back then you struggled to eat this in an entire day. Now you're going to eat it in just one evening.”

“You've got a lot of faith in me,” Armin looked over at the small mountain of food resting on the far side of his desk, “I can try?”

“Well, you've got a lot more room in there now,” Eren pointed out, his gaze flickering down to Armin's stomach for emphasis, “And we've got all night to make sure it happens.”

It made sense to start with the McDonalds, the food that would be the least appetising once it had cooled. As Armin delved within the paper bag for the double cheeseburger, Eren continued their earlier discussion about a work event he had recently attended. It made everything feel a little more natural, Armin realised after a moment, filling what could have potentially been an awkward silence. Armin had eaten many burgers since attending university but this one seemed that little bit nicer, the patties were juicier and the bun was soft on the outside yet perfectly toasted within. The gooey cheese complemented the smokier taste of the meat while contrasted by the tangy sauce. It was just so good and it was familiar and it had disappeared from between Armin's fingers with an alarming speed, a testament to how much his appetite had grown.

The fries were next, still hot and crisp from the fryer. Armin found it even easier to mindlessly munch his way through them, intercepted only by brief conversations with Eren. It wasn't long before just a few fries remained in the recesses of the paper bag and Armin chased them with grease-stained fingers. He could see Eren watching him from his laptop screen, that wonderfully sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Perhaps Eren was right, Armin thought on leaning forward to exchange the empty bag for the milkshake, desperate to sweep away the salty taste lingering on his tongue, he could manage more food than he thought.

Once again it was halfway through the pizza where Armin began to struggle, although last time he hadn't had the extra complication of having just eaten a double cheeseburger meal and a cheese danish shortly before. His stomach swelled out in front of him, pooching out onto his thighs, round and solid beneath the t-shirt that had since ridden up to sit over his chest. Armin shifted against his desk chair to ease the pressure, stubbornly chewing a mouthful of pizza crust as he reached for another slice. It was getting increasingly more difficult to sit up under the weight of his food-packed gut, especially now it was naturally much larger than it had once been. A pleasant daze settled over Armin, even as each mouthful of pizza seemed to make his stomach protrude out that little bit further. Armin lowered his empty hands wearily into his lap, taking a moment to catch his breath, his taut belly rising and falling with each exhale.

“I need to... take a break,” Armin tilted his head back, some of his hair falling out of the bun he had hastily twisted it up into, “Feels like I'm going to... burst.”

“I'll allow it,” Eren leant in closer to the screen as if it would allow him to see Armin's predicament in greater detail, “So now I've got you too stuffed to move, I want you to know something. I'm not finished with you yet, Armin Arlert. And, given the way you just gorged yourself on what was once what you ate in an entire day, you're not done either. So I guess that final question is how much further are you willing to go?"

A question that Armin already knew the answer to, his fingers reaching for one of the remaining slices of pizza. "You wanted me to grow out of my t-shirt, didn't you? I can still just about fit into it. So maybe we should start there and see where that goes."