Disclaimer: Characters owned by DC Comics.

This is my first ever Secret Six story, and, to be completely honest, about as explicit as I'm ever going to get in my writing concerning kinks and stuff like that.

For anyone who's already read my Titans story you'll notice making male heroes heavyset is my thing. I also tend to commission pieces in this line of thinking. A while ago I made an art request to someone who was feeling ill last month, and so I thought I'd write something about the subject of said request as a gift. It only seemed fair.

And yes I know Catman had something of a weight problem in his past. Though he's still somewhat muscular this time around.

I hope I got Thomas and Floyd okay.

"It ain't gonna fit." Floyd Lawton mused.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Lawton." His teammate, Thomas Blake, defied Floyd's assertions. Floyd took another drag from the cigarette in his mouth, exhaled the smoke, and then put the cancer stick out on the doorway he was leaning on.

"Well that's a given for most of the time, but right now I'm telling ya it ain't gonna fit." Floyd reasserted.

"Yes… it… will!" Thomas refused Floyd's statements once more.

"And here I am without my camera." Floyd mock sighed. "Oh wait, here it is."

He whipped out his cellphone from his back pocket, turned on the camera, and aimed it directly at Thomas leaning against his dresser.

"If that video gets even one hit online," Thomas stopped for a moment to give Floyd the VERY Evil Eye, "they'll be fishing bits of your scalp out of Shark's bridgework."

"And deny the world a cure for depression?" Floyd smirked. "What, cantcha see the headlines now? 'World's Deadliest Assassin Can't Get Pants On.'"

"I thought Merkel was supposed to be the clown." Thomas said through gritted teeth as the struggle continued.

"Nah, see, Merkel's the clown, but he's also the one with the fucked up, emotionally scarring childhood and disturbing obsession with grilled cheese sandwiches. Me, I'm the sniper, and the one with the fucked up emotionally scarring childhood, and the tobacco addiction." Floyd explained casually.

"Nngh. So what does that make me?" Thomas asked.

Floyd took out another cigarette, lit it, and took a long dreg from it before answering.

"You're the fat one."

Floyd had been standing in Thomas's doorway for several minutes, blocking the room from any passerbys, as Thomas struggled and continued to struggle with the process of buttoning his pants.

"It's just winter weight. I'll lose it in a couple of weeks." Thomas claimed. Floyd blew out more smoke.

"Somehow I doubt that. Don't know why. Call it a hunch. A guess. A hypothesis."

"Hypothesis? Big word coming from you, Lawton." Thomas quipped.

"Bigger'n you?" Floyd (metaphorically) shot back with a raised eyebrow.

"Okay I walked into that one."

"Surprised you could fit through it." Floyd said under his breath.

"Don't push it."

Thomas had stopped leaning on the dresser and fell back onto the bed with a hearty THUD. It was hard to tell who had stopped shaking first, the bed, or Thomas' gut.

Thomas had taken a few weeks off as a vacation from his work with the Secret Six and spent a good chunk of the winter season with his pride in Africa. Usually, Thomas had to deal with poachers, predators, leagues of wannabe Prometheus and Lex Luthors hoping to stake a claim in the world of villainy by taking out the infamous Catman. But things had been much more peaceful the last couple of months than Thomas had expected. It was odd, but he found it enjoyable. And even with most of the exercise he'd been getting, the running, the hunting, the lack of bathing, it was nothing compared to the two other activities he'd taken up.

Relaxing and eating.

Usually one sometimes gains like five or ten pounds during the winter, Thomas… not so much. His weight issues had come back to haunt him. His abs had been replaced with a big belly, his pectorals were soft, his arms and thighs had gotten rather meaty (though still muscular in a way) and his face had gotten round. He'd barely even realized it'd happened until his transport had come to pick him up.

Then his teammates had seen him.

Then the jokes had started.

"Oh dear me Thomas, you know the point of putting on weight for winter hibernation is that you gradually lose it over time, correct?"

"Mr. Blake, if you so require, I can easily put together a rather stimulating exercise program to remove your considerable carriage. Although I'll have to shop for restraints in your size."

"Thomas I hope you understand our costume budget is, um, stretched tight as it is, so if you end up ripping anything you'll have to pay for it out of your own pockets."

"Hey, does this mean we call him 'Fat Cat' from now on?"

"Lookit them thighs! Who's up for brunch?!"

And now it was Floyd's turn.

"Now, what I don't get is why ya don't just give it up and go for the whole toga look." Floyd joked.

"You think this is the first time I couldn't get my pants on because of my gut?" Thomas asked. "Did it before, can do… it.. again…"

"Y'know, Blake, you don't look THAT bad. Not like the last time you were a fatty. Got that whole muscle chub thing going for ya." Floyd stated.

"How do YOU know that-"

"I've been in a lotta chatrooms, man." Floyd tossed his cigarette away and went for another one. "Lotta chatrooms."

"Here's hoping you never run into Ragdoll in any of them." Thomas joked.

"Just once."

Thomas grimaced at the thought, then let out a yell of annoyance over how stupid this whole situation was.

"Oh fer God's sake." Floyd rubbed the bridge between his eyes. "Get up Blake."

Thomas tried, and, well…

"Never mind."

Floyd walked over to the bed, reached towards Thomas, and helped pull him up with both hands.

"Whoa!" Floyd stumbled back after letting go. "You're a big boy, aintcha."

"How perceptive." Thomas deadpanned.

"Nah, that cleared up months ago. Now turn around." Floyd ordered. Thomas did so, and was surprised when Floyd pressed up against him and then put his arms around Thomas' large waist.

"How's that feel?" Floyd asked.

"Well, I know Jeannette offered to give me a work out, wasn't expecting the same offer from you." Thomas flirted.

"Some other time." Floyd retorted, and then proceeded to place his hands under Thomas' bare belly before he lifted it up for him. "How's that?"

"I'm flattered but if you squeeze anything I'll-"

"Just shut up and button the damn pants. Like I'm dealing with a two year old."

Thomas shut up and then, after long last, finally managed to beat the so-called eternal struggle and got his pants closed.

"Happy?" Floyd asked.

Thomas then proceeded to put his hands over Floyd's.

"Well, I'm certainly getting there." Thomas purred.

"Izzat so?" Floyd asked. "Put your shirt on fat boy the Boss Lady's got a job for us."

"Way to ruin the moment, Floyd." Thomas huffed.

"What I live for, champ." Floyd quipped once more.

Thomas patted his stomach and let out a deep breath after finally getting that over with. He bent over to pick up a shirt off the floor and

RRRRRIP.

Thomas shot straight back up, giving Floyd a good view of his bare ass.

"Ya know, Blake, I know you're a fan of going au naturale, and while I ain't complaining much, maybe now you should think about investing in a nice pair of briefs."

Thomas growled.

"Or boxers. Hey, whatever floats your boat, man."