Chapter Text
Loki had no grand expectations for the night as he stepped out into the cool early fall air to meet his contact. In his mind, it was going to be a night like any other: he would sit down in the seedy bar with its sticky floors and tacky counter that could never have seen anything else besides a wet washcloth, order a drink as he tried not to touch anything, spill the story, pocket the cash, and return to his dorm to finish his latest essay that was turning out quite brilliantly—if he may say so himself.
What Loki had certainly not counted on was the mountain of a man that he caught a glimpse of when he set foot in the dive. This man was slouching in a darkened corner of the bar, sprawled on a wooden chair that was too narrow to contain his girth, his ass and thighs spilling over the edges, his belly pressing against the table that was littered with several empty tankards of beer. A couple of inches of his magnificent paunch were poking out beneath the hem of a white shirt that clearly had seen better days. His face was in shadow but Loki could make out long, blond hair that fell down to his ample chest and a braided beard.
Loki’s body instantly responded to the sight.
Obese people might be society’s unwanted scrap but they were Loki’s deepest, darkest desire, his particular brand of temptation.
Ever since he could remember, he’d been captivated by sheer excess and shameless gluttony, by how it spilled over all boundaries. There was something obscene about fat that overflowed and consumed space, refusing containment and mocking restraint. There was something insanely hot about a body that broke every rule, like a giant fuck-you to conformity made flesh. It was this delicious defiance that gave him pleasure, this taboo thrill of finding beauty and lust in what society deemed undesirable.
It felt like blasphemy to crave something he wasn’t even supposed to be attracted to and Loki had always reveled in it.
Which was why his eyes lingered on the guy a moment too long—he even instinctively shook his hair out like a preening bird on the brink of despair during mating season—before he caught himself and sauntered towards the counter, trying to look indifferent.
It was no easy feat because he could feel the man watching him from across the room, his drunken gaze burning a hole into Loki’s back.
Loki tried to ignore it and ordered a Margarita. He was so flustered and annoyed with himself that he drank it down a lot faster than he normally would, immediately signaling for another before the barman slipped away again.
He could hardly focus on the conversation with the reporter as he divulged the scandal of those poor fools who had thought they could break into the castle and actually get away with a slap on their wrist because of their rich parents’ influence.
Loki tossed the second drink back as well, his cock twitching in his pants at the thought of how that huge man was ogling him. He had to shift on the barstool to hide his erection from his contact, his cheeks flushed hot with alcohol and arousal.
He couldn’t help it though; he angled his body towards the object of his desire as he drank and tried to hold up a conversation with his interlocutor, shaking out his silken black hair, revealing his high cheekbones, his sharp jawline and his long, pale neck that were, undoubtedly, his most enticing features.
Eventually, the man pulled himself to his feet with a grunt and a belch, the creak of his chair echoing through the entire bar. He swayed towards where Loki and his contact were sitting, and Loki’s eyes were fixed on that wobbling belly as it came nearer and, emboldened by his own little buzz, his fingers shot out to brush against the exposed overhang that was practically begging to be touched.
The man moaned like sin itself and staggered on.
There was something about him that felt vaguely familiar even though Loki couldn’t recall ever seeing him in this establishment before. And if he had been here, Loki would have noticed him. He was, after all, impossible to miss.
A few moments passed and the man did not return.
As soon as his contact was satisfied and stood, Loki paid his tab and went after the guy without thinking, a shiver of arousal slithering down his spine.
Loki found him drunkenly slumped on a bench halfway between the door and the urinals; as if he hadn’t been able to make it all the way across the room in one sitting and needed a break. His eyes were closed and his head was resting on his double chins. His hand was groping somewhere beneath his overhang and he grunted as he shifted on the bench, fumbling in vain. His breathing was coming in heavy, wheezing gasps and his gut looked hopelessly overstuffed and ready to pop. Loki’s dick pressed against his tight jeans at the thought of touching the rolls that swelled out beneath the guy’s shirt and running his slender fingers all over that engorged belly.
“My, my, what have we here?” Loki actually heard himself tsk, his pulse hammering in his ears as the words tumbled out of his mouth, his tongue loosened by all those Margaritas. “Such lewd and wanton behavior.”
The guy opened his eyes then, glancing up, and Loki’s heart stopped in his chest.
That was …
His throat dried up.
No, that couldn’t be.
Holy fuck.
“L’ki?” the man slurred.
Holy shit.
“Thor?” Loki had to moist his lips. “Thor Odinson?”
The guy’s eyes fluttered shut again. “Ye’hh.”
Holy …
Loki had heard the rumors of course. Thor had been exempted from school for the past year because of several deaths that had occurred in his family. He hadn’t been on the roster for either his rugby team or his polo team. And people had gossiped about how he’d gained a bunch of weight since he’d stopped playing, as bored students were wont to do.
But never in a million years would Loki have expected this.
This wasn’t just ‘a bunch of weight’.
Thor had gone from muscled hunk to obese blob in less than twelve months.
“What in the seven hells happened to you?” Loki blurted out, his voice cracking.
“I ... fell’n love w’ food,” Thor slurred. A dreamy smile appeared on his lips as he grabbed his distended belly in both of his huge, meaty hands and made all that delicious fat jiggle. “An’ thisss.”
Fuck.
It seemed that Loki’s brain had been reduced to expletives as all the blood in his body was now surging down towards his groin.
This was indeed something that Loki could fall in love with too. Every inch of Thor was swollen and heavy with fat: his neck had vanished, consumed by rolls that flowed into the double chins quivering beneath his face; his chest sagged into broad, pillowy tits, and beneath them soft folds bunched together in stacked ridges. Love handles spilled wide over the waistband of his straining pants, framing the vast swell of his belly, which hung thick and round, rolling outward like an avalanche of lard. Even his arms and thighs had thickened into solid, padded columns. He was enormous, the sheer mass of him making it impossible to look anywhere without staring over-indulgence squarely in the face.
Loki had always craved this kind of weight and the sheer audacity of how excess fat spilled everywhere as if it were daring him to reach in and touch everything, to explore how deep he could sink his fingers into someone else’s flesh, cupping and kneading.
The only problem was …
“Y’ l’ke wha’ y’sssee?” Thor asked him then, a mischievous, flirty glint flickering in his otherwise hooded, half-lidded blue eyes.
Loki did, oh he so did, but he didn’t want to because this was still Thor.
This was still the guy he’d despised with every fiber of his being ever since he’d first spotted him on campus, the biggest thorn in his flesh, the target of his greatest disdain.
A shallow, rich guy like Thor fucking Odinson was simply not supposed to be Loki’s type.
“Th’ … only pr’lem isss,” Thor continued, his tongue heavy in his mouth from all that beer, “I c’n’t … move an’ … I r’lly gotta pee.”
Loki’s brain shirt-circuited again.
This really was Thor slouching before him, wasted and overfed and helpless. The guy who’d made every girl swoon by flaunting his rock-hard abs and taking pride in his muscular physique now looked utterly dissipated and pathetic.
You should just leave him here, the spiteful part of Loki’s brain whispered to him.
What a scandal that would be if the next guest came in and found him like this. Incoherent as Thor was, that person would probably call an ambulance and everyone would witness how the oaf was being wheeled out of there, immobile and bloated and drunk off his ass.
It would be quite the spectacle and Loki itched to just turn on his heel and strut away.
And yet … Loki had never wanted to get his hands and his mouth on anyone so badly in his life. Hell, he couldn’t even recall if he’d ever been this horny before.
It was infuriating that Thor had let himself go to such an extent that he’d transformed himself into a person Loki actually wanted to fuck.
That strange mixture of anger and arousal almost drove him to the brink of insanity.
“And I suppose you’re asking me if I can help you?” Loki gloated before he could stop himself, his cock filling up so quickly he got dizzy at the prospect of being able and allowed to touch all that flab. From one second to the next, it no longer mattered who it belonged to; he was consumed by the desire to feel every inch of it.
“Plh…please,” whined Thor and the sweet sound of him begging for anything—let alone begging Loki to help him take a leak—wrecked Loki with raw want.
He crossed the distance between them without thinking and took Thor’s hand in his. They were sweaty and way too warm but Loki pulled nonetheless, bracing his clunky emo boots against the floor tiles. Thor tried to help by planting his feet on the ground and rocking himself forward a bit but it was like trying to right a capsized ship. His gut heaved and shook with another effort, his face blotchy and red, his breath coming out in wheezing gasps, but his momentum died half-way the second time as well.
“Jesus,” Loki muttered under his breath, both of them now panting as if they’d just run a marathon. “How much do you weigh now?”
“Three sev’n’y?”
Good lord.
There simply was no way for Loki to move that much weight with every ounce of it slouched backwards, center of gravity sinking like a stone. There was no counterbalance, no leverage, no nothing. The sheer mechanics of the endeavor were mocking him: three hundred and seventy pounds of drunken bulk planted on a bench with the immovability of a collapsed star, and Loki had seriously entertained the possibility that he could just pull that upright?
How foolish of him.
“You’re so fat now, you’re defying the laws of physics,” Loki grunted, which elicited a pained whimper from Thor.
Good lord.
This was … it was turning Thor on.
Another wave of lust surged through Loki when it sank in that Thor had meant every word: His fatness made him horny just like it made Loki horny.
They … they actually shared a fantasy.
After years of moving through separate worlds, existing in different lives and social circles, everything that had divided them dissolved in this fleeting, breathless instant—and in the shitty bathroom of a shitty bar of all places.
The realization flipped the switch for good. Overwhelmed by the urge to explore every inch of Thor’s chub with his fingers and his tongue, Loki slid around behind him, ducked under those broad, flabby arms, and hooked his hands beneath Thor’s sweaty armpits. Thor sagged low on the narrow, backless bench, legs spread, knees braced against the wood, his ample chest heaving with every ragged breath. His beer breath was suffocating this close, heat pouring off him like a furnace, but Loki gritted his teeth through it.
Finally, Thor lurched upright, knees trembling, belly jutting forward like a swollen sail catching wind. For a brief, triumphant second, Loki thought he’d actually managed it—
—and then Thor began to sway, legs wobbling, arms flailing slightly.
Oh no.
Loki reacted instantly, leaping onto the bench behind him, his trembling knees digging into Thor’s sides to steady him. The extra leverage allowed him to hold the staggering mass up just long enough to keep them both from collapsing. Thor’s heft pressed against him, sweat-slick, heavy, hot, every inch of him quivering under Loki’s grip.
“Easy … easy, big boy,” Loki hissed through clenched teeth, every muscle burning as he adjusted his knees and tightened his arms under Thor’s armpits. “Work with me here or else you’re gonna land on top of me and squish me like a fly with all that extra weight. I’m two-hundred pounds lighter, remember?”
Humiliating someone he wanted had never been part of Loki’s desires before, yet with Thor, it felt almost instinctive.
And it made Thor whine again, low and shaky.
Hell, he might as well have just come in his pants by the sound of it.
The sounds of Thor’s needy moans and the helpless tilt of his body only fueled Loki’s strength and, finally, he managed to lift him fully onto his feet, supporting Thor from behind, his arms wrapped tight around Thor’s torso. Thor’s legs shook violently with every drunken, waddling step and his weight felt immense, turning every step into a challenge. But a part of Loki relished how every single one of his muscles burned just to hold Thor upright.
When they reached the urinals, Loki adjusted his hold so Thor could lean slightly forward. Thor shivered as he exhaled heavily, his overhang bouncing with every motion. He pressed one hand against the tiles to support his weight while the other reached to pull down his sweatpants, but he couldn’t lean forward enough because his overstuffed belly was in the way or maybe it was because he was so drunk … Loki had no idea. All he knew was that Thor was incapable of freeing his own dick.
Jesus fucking Christ.
It still felt so absurd, all of it.
It was the stuff Loki’s wet dreams were not so seldom made of and, tonight, it had become a reality.
With Thor Odinson of all fucking people.
Loki’s brain still couldn’t process the extent of it but he crouched down anyways, sliding Thor’s sweatpants down to his ankles.
Thor groaned with relief as he started pissing, both of his hands now pressed against the wall, both of his saggy arms trembling with the effort.
Loki was so hard by now that his tight jeans could barely contain his twitching cock and he could feel the pre-cum soak his black lace panties. He grabbed each of Thor’s love handles in one hand and pressed his aching groin against the crack of Thor’s ass, thrusting slowly, murmuring, “How do you manage this at home, hm?”
“Sit’n,” came the breathless reply and it was followed by a spurt of come that splattered across the porcelain and the wall tiles.
“Shit,” Loki muttered, more to himself than to Thor. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
“Mhm. Y’lik’thisss. I … I heard th’rum’rs, y’know.”
Jesus. Was there anything worse in the world than someone who was wasted enough to fuel a car but still somehow lucid enough to see right through you?
Loki huffed and jerked away. He crouched down to pull Thor’s pants back up, delighted by how difficult it was to drag the waistband over Thor’s thighs and groin with all his chub in the way. Not to mention that Thor’s fupa felt hard and tight beneath Loki’s fingers, almost as if Thor’s balls were still swollen even after he came without even having to touch his cock.
By then, all pretense was lost and Loki couldn’t care less about how Thor had gained knowledge of his sexual proclivities at the moment. He hadn’t had sex in far too long and he was on the verge of exploding when it gradually sank in just how much Thor appeared to be getting off on the humiliation of it all.
Fortunately, humiliating others with his famed sharp tongue was one of Loki’s special talents; even if he’d never used it on anyone he was attracted to.
“How could I not like this?” he purred as he grabbed one of Thor’s arms and slung it over his shoulder, the other wrapping around Thor’s midsection, his fingers digging into all that soft, excess flab. “I mean, just look at you. Only a year ago, you had the body of a god. And now you’re too fat to walk, too fat to stand, too fat to pee.” He paused for emphasis, almost going blind with lust. “Too fat to properly jerk off. You want me to help with that too or are you already spent?”
“Fffuck,” wheezed Thor, his eyes almost rolling backwards into his head.
“So, what are we gonna do about that, hm? I don’t suppose you can walk all the way back to campus?” Loki teased him, grabbing one of Thor’s voluptuous tits and squeezing hard. “Do you even still fit into a car?”
Thor snorted a wet laugh in response. “Som’t’mes.”
“That’s what I thought,” Loki drawled, reveling in how heavily Thor’s weight pressed against him as much as he relished the stares they received as they made their way out of the bar, stumbling and panting.
When they were finally outside again, the cool fall air slamming into them, Loki’s eyes landed on the sign across the street.
He’d always known it was there, of course, but had never wasted a conscious thought on it because he’d never needed to.
Tonight though, its neon light pulsed with endless possibilities.
“Well, I suppose we’ll have to improvise,” Loki decided, guiding Thor’s drunken bulk towards the hotel lobby, his unfinished essay entirely forgotten thanks to the night’s surprising turn.