Summary: Professor Horace Slughorn lusts after Lily Evans, and has an interesting dream. Contains Weight gain, fat acceptance, mature themes, BHM, BBW, eating, romance.
The belly tried to hold it down, to conceal it, to stifle it, to tell it, no, no, no, you old fatty, you don't deserve to lust after her, I'm the belly and know what's what, and yet the little bugger pressed on, pushing, pushing, pushing, up, up, up, making a big round dent in that big round stomach.
As he twisted uncomfortably in his chair, Horace Slughorn was glad (beyond all measure) that his desk concealed all of his lap.
"Is there anything else, Professor?"
Lily Evans twisted a strand of her glorious red hair in her finger.
"No..."
His stomach lurched as he watched the tendril spin, seductive, coy, tempting.
"...no, Miss Evans, that's all."
And you thought being so fat had done a thing or two to your libido, he scolded himself, watching, with shame, the rounded curves of her buttocks as she sashayed back to her desk.
I need to get a hold of myself. I need a release.
He thought of the portrait of the elegant nude witch that was hanging above his bathtub.
Later...later I'll have some time with Madeline Laquine. Oh, for the love of Merlin, I don't know how Muggles do without their living pictures. But for the present moment...
He still felt the Slytherin that resided below the belt, pressing deeply into his paunch's overhang.
"You have five minutes, the rest of you," he said, watching Severus Snape scowlingly deposit a vial on the desk.
It was a long five minutes.
. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .
Not long after, residing in his bathtub after a beautiful long session with the adorable Madeline (who had once been his student, before she became a nude model!), Horace Slughorn contemplated his fat. Or, more specifically, his fat and what it had to do with his fate.
I'm going to kill myself eating, he acknowledged, but strangely couldn't be persuaded by this to go on a diet. If for no other reason, I ought to lose a few stone just to get the girls in my bed again.
He shook his head sharply.
If I'm telling myself that Lily Evans...sweet, succulent Lily Evans...would ever let me touch her, even under the delusion of wistful 'what ifs', I'm more a pedophile and less a man of honor and character.
Then again, as he pondered, had he ever been a man of honor or character? Of course, his reputation with the world was impeccable. But that was just because he was trying to not look like he lusted after every female student that caught his attention, that he offered connections to, that he stored photographs of, and admired from afar as their careers blossomed.
On that note, of course his being fat helped strengthen this illusion. Because, as modern society dictated, being fat meant that one wasn't getting it, wasn't interested in getting it, and probably didn't think of it at all, because obviously the overpowering urges of the aforementioned it was less important to the fat man than the overpowering urges of the stomach.
And well, females seemed to trust that quite a lot. Which trust Slughorn didn't care to deconstruct.
Which meant that the archetype ran true for him, too.
He sighed, looking down at the bulges of his stomach. They multiplied when he was sitting upright, creating innumerable valleys and hills. It actually made him rather turned on, to look at them, to caress them, to realize that he couldn't see his knees even though his legs were stretched out in front of him.
And there was it again. Horace actually heard the woosh of water as it went from limp to stark-hard and began to prod his belly.
Laying back, Horace slipped into the water until his face and immense belly were the only things left uncovered.
It's like an island, he thought with some amusement. And he accioed the box of toy tin soldiers he'd had since he was a little boy, which box was in the sink-cupboard, awaiting this very purpose.
As the wooden box landed in the water, Horace removed the rusty soldiers and began to position them into two opposing factions on top of his belly, divided by his vast belly-button.
Another pun on 'The Battle of the Bulge,' he noted with some amusement. Studying American history did have some benefits...
It was in the middle of his play-acting that a timid knock on his bedroom-door made him stir from the bathtub in a way that was very hurried. Rising with his usual difficulty due to his bulk, Slughorn grabbed his wand from the soap-stand and covered himself with his bathrobe, which was a little dusty as it hung, neglected, on the back of the bathroom door.
"Just a moment," he rumbled, stepping onto the bath-mat with care.
He padded his way to the bedroom door, barely managing to tie his robe around him. It was awfully tight; he didn't wear it very often, so hadn't thought to update it last time he'd outgrown his wardrobe.
The knock on the door came again, and he opened it.
As it happened, it was Lily Evans...moreover, Lily Evans donned in the flimsiest cotton nightgown ever known to be chosen by a mother for modesty. As she stood there, in her bra-less glory, Slughorn could make out the outline of her breasts.
It also noticed, and was doing a number on the underside of his belly once again.
"Professor?" asked Lily quietly, drawing the cloak she'd worn a bit more tightly around her. "I need some help."
He barely had time to invite her in, to ask her to sit down, before she was sobbing into his handkerchief.
"...I really didn't want to never talk to Severus again, Professor! But he did call me that awful name...and I don't know what to do!" Her rupture with Severus had been rumored throughout the school, and Slughorn had seen its fruits in class. It was sad how his two star students, once bosom friends, had drifted.
"I...would give it time, Miss Evans," Slughorn said softly.
"But...but..." she began to protest wearily, but then she appeared to notice something.
The too-tight bathrobe had failed in its purpose to provide modesty. The silk belt had slipped up until it settled just on top of Slughorn's enormous stomach. This meant that the rest of the robe had nothing keeping it together, and Slughorn's belly pressing it apart, and the belly won the battle. It sat there in all its grandeur, framed in a triangular fashion by the bathrobe that had spread apart. It was an enormous oversight on his part, to not have noticed before, but Slughorn couldn't help but feel like it wasn't as bad as it might have been.
Especially because Lily Evans' hand was pressing against his stomach, caressing the folds in his belly that specifically came from sitting upright in his chair.
"You're not possibly comfortable, Professor," Lily said, a smoothness gracing her tone that Horace had never heard in class. "Your body is an obtuse angle trying to squish into a right angle. Consequently, you've folded up, in order to fit. But it's a strain, I'm sure."
He'd never thought of it that way before.
"Let me help you," she said, in a voice that would have been classified as 'come-hither' in his day.
Without warning, she'd magicked him into his reclining sofa and stripped him of his flimsy robe.
"You're mine," she said, greed in her very voice. "Mine."
"I see," he said, feeling very hot in the most pleasurable of ways. "I'm ready."
"Really?" Lily said, then clapped her hands.
At once, house-elves bearing enormous silver platters entered, deposited their platters, and left.
"Because, my dear, dear Horace, we aren't nearly ready. How about I slip into something...more comfortable?"
So saying, she sat down right there on the floor, surrounded by the platters, and uncovered the first.
"Aha! I see we have the exquisite pleasure of eating quite a feast, my dear Horace."
His mouth was watering even as it felt like it was getting dryer by the moment.
"Feed me?" he requested feebly, and Lily laughed.
"Wait," she said, "I've got some catching up to do." Thus saying, she stroked his belly, murmuring, "Magnificent accomplishment you have here, I must say. I'm going to have to work hard to emulate this fine achievement..."
So saying, she positioned herself in a cross-legged position, accioed a fork from his stash of cutlery, and carved herself an enormous slice of cake.
He watched her in silence as she chewed, slowly but surely, and devoured the whole piece.
Is it just me, he wondered as he watched, but do I see her growing rounder with every bite?
He wasn't sure. The lights were not on very high, and he didn't exactly have the best of views from his standpoint; his triple-chin prevented him from doing much more than tilting his head up a bit.
But as he watched her eat, it became fairly obvious that his initial assessment was correct. Lily she was growing genuinely fatter. First the fat showed on her breasts and butt, then on her stomach.
"Mmmmm," Lily said, with fervor. "This is excellent, Horace."
"May I have some?" he asked, feeling so turned-on by this whole affair that he couldn't bear but think of feasting...both in terms of it, and in terms of food.
"Silly! Wait still," Lily said, "I'm not nearly caught up with you yet." With a little quirky smile, she slapped his belly fondly, making it ripple with jiggles, like jello.
"How sexy," she complimented, and patted it with a more gentle hand. The noise of her hand beating against his bare flesh, against the hollow sound of his stomach, made it perk very fiercely beneath the curtains of stomach that hid it.
"What a nice fat gut," she purred, kneading his soft belly like bread dough, "what a nice, fat, soft, plump gut. What a vast, protruding girth! Your corpulence...your stoutness...how I long to join you in your fine company!"
Slughorn blushed with pleasure. No female had ever treated him so well. His last and only girlfriend had, in fact, bothered him about losing weight until she left him for being a fat lard. And here Lily Evans was, appreciating it in the way that it ought to have been appreciated for years!
"What a stomach you have!," she went on, and Slughorn was so comfortable that he closed his eyes, "I think I could fit in there, if carved up into pieces that would slide down your hungry gullet...but I'm all lean meat, so I'd not help a bit to maintain your delicious, full figure."
Her fingers ran along the curve beneath his stomach, which was ticklish but also very sensual. Horace shivered, feeling it springily begging to be touched.
Instead of foraying lower than his abdomen, however, Lily embarked on her second huge slice of cake, forking every mouthful a little bit faster than the previous.
Slughorn watched as her belly expanded. First it was just a little, faint bump, pressing against the fabric of her nightgown, as shy as a love-stricken little boy might pinch the bum of a little girl.
Then, with regularity, it gained confidence, and began to make its presence more widespread. That little bump became more of a smile as Lily's stomach became more pronounced. Her arms began to look a little bit more chunky, her face a little bit more round.
Fairly soon, the smile of her belly became tight against her nightgown's front, to the point that it began to have more dimension, with a gentle curve sloping downward. Her belly was beginning to be defined! Slughorn wanted to touch it, to grasp it in his hands, but for some reason he felt like he was too tired. Besides, it was so engorged that it made it truly painful to sit up.
"A person's dearest friend is one's belly," Lily said, in between bites, "all it requires is tenderness, and it grows more large and supple and aesthetically pleasing. I've always longed to have that friendship. So...rare, and regal, and refined, it is."
He watched with growing lust as her flesh expanded. Soon the fabric of her nightgown was actually being strained. A cute, inny belly-button showed, a mere dimple in the fabric. Lily's breasts were more plump as well, being quite the size of bludgers.
Horace Slughorn was so lusty that he would have wanked by himself, in any other situation. But this was Lily Evans gorging herself on his floor, while he stared at her in the nude!
Not only that, but she seemed to appreciate the view she had, making sure to rub his belly dutifully every second she wasn't making it jiggle.
"You're quite the monarch, you know," she complimented, "I think you'd not fit at the round table, if you were King Arthur. They'd need to cut out a special place to accommodate the massive stomach you have. What an honorific, to have a hole in the table conformed especially for your body!"
"Yes, indeed," Horace said, thinking of the feasts that might be laid upon said table. "That would be heavenly."
Lily's progression of eating became faster, as though her appetite increased with every bite. Her hips were getting thick enough to the point that they were also straining the nightgown, and Horace was being driven crazy with desire.
How I'd like to ram 'it' deep into her right now! he mused, his legs twitching.
But there was more to come. Her belly continued to grow, as did her breasts, as did her hips, as did her thighs! Soon their pillowlike roundness was apparent to Horace, and he did his best to bite his lip. Lily Evans was quickly going to outgrow her nightgown, which had been rather loose when she'd come in! Obviously, she was eating magic cake.
"Please...let me have some," he pleaded, his stomach feeling incredibly empty. He wanted to feast, like she was, he wanted to grow, like she was.
"Not yet," Lily said with a smile. "You'll know when, my dear chubby Horace."
She continued to eat, already on her sixth slice of cake, rapidly shoveling food into her mouth. Her body was developing at the same rate, growing larger and larger in proportions.
After many restless minutes, in which he paid the closest of attentions to each new curvy centimeter of her body, Horace realized that her nightgown was taut all around.
She'd gotten a definite circumference of belly.
"Ah, this?" she'd said in surprise when he pointed it out, her soft face screwed up with something like disgust. "This is nothing, compared to your flesh, Horace. I don't know why you even thought of remarking on it. It's not big at all. Just the beginning of an elegant paunch like yours."
Feeling his heart race with adrenaline, he opened his eyes even wider, eager to watch as she curved even more. How much would the nightgown hold up to, he wondered, how much would it be able to take?
As it happened, the thin white cotton could take quite a lot. After the initial surprise of the belly's circumference being obvious, Lily's stomach continued to pile on the curves...both on top and below.
Her belly began to heap, with fold after delectable fold beginning to stack, in a symmetrical way that pleased Horace a good deal. As a fold began to grow on top, another one simultaneously followed on the bottom. The previous tummy also grew, though its ripples, in dispersing the fat as it accumulated, prevented it from straining too much.
It's like a stack of baking bread loaves, Horace decided with ecstasy. The lump in the middle was put in the oven first. As it begins to grow, then two more lumps are added to the oven and begin to grow. Then two MORE lumps are added to the oven, and begin to grow. The first lump has the head start, of course, while the second lumps are coming along quickly, and the third lumps are furthest behind. And so on and so forth.
This was the way that Lily's stomach-folds grew.
As he watched, he also decided that they're also stacking like Canadian griddle-cakes, or the American pan-cakes. Nice and flat initially, but they grow, and then another gets stacked on top and one on bottom. And they keep stacking and developing, stacking and developing...
Finally, as Lily's form looked like there was no more room for 'stacking', for her nightgown was as tight as sausage casing...it split apart.
And then and there, Slughorn felt like he had a heart attack, and he woke up in the cold water of the bath-tub, with Madeline Laquine giggling over his fat body.
"You were having a dream, I think," she said softly. "Poor plump Professor. I didn't mean to wake you."
"Oh! No matter, no matter," he said, nonetheless very disappointed.
It was disappointed too. As it tried to wriggle up and into the air, it was suppressed by Horace's massive belly.
Oh, what a tragic shame, Slughorn thought, getting out of the tub, pulling the bathrobe off the door, and throwing it on the floor.
Dash it all, he had to go to the Restricted Section right now for some lovely nude paintings of Helga Hufflepuff. And while he...regarded them...he'd call for an immense platter of Hogwarts' best chocolate cake.
I do wonder if the house-elves could whip up the sort I saw in my dream? he idly wondered, thinking that it might not be a terrible thing to gain another hundred pounds.