Hungry

Ron grumbled and snorted, shifting in his bed and eventually sitting upright with a grunt, feeling the chill on his shoulders as his duvet fell away into his lap. It wasn’t exactly cold up in his tiny bedroom, but it was just that much warmer under the covers, and the change helped wake him up a bit more. The redhead half-opened his eyes, squinting in the moonlight from the tiny window, to see what had been making that damn noise. He didn’t dare turn on the light, not wanting to wake Harry.

It wasn’t the ghoul in the attic. Or, at least, if it had been, this was a new noise it was making. This was a strange one, crackling and squeaking like a thick sheet of ice being broken, but with some underlying tones of weird, sticky noises. Maybe a gnome had gotten in again. They seemed to like coming up to his bedroom whenever Fred or George accidentally left the back door ajar.

“Ugh, alright, you creaky old house…” Ron grumbled, swinging his legs out of bed and groggily taking a step forward as he scratched himself beneath his Chudley Cannons pyjama shorts, “What’s going on this ti- OH BUGGER ME!”

Ron careened forward and slammed into the floor with a thud, sending up a small puff of dust from the rug and feeling something stick to his face as he rolled onto his back to try and see what had tripped him up. No use, the gloomy haze of moonlight wasn’t bright enough to see anything. Instead he got to his feet and fumbled for the little camping lantern he kept by the door to provide at least a little bit of illumination. As the lantern flickered to life, Ron blinked slowly, trying to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.

Harry. His best friend, Harry Potter, frozen in place on the floor. He was sitting on the rug with his back against the base of his bed, legs stretched out in front of him - that was probably what had tripped Ron up - and a large box in his lap. Shiny plastic wrappers of assorted colours, each the size of a cupcake case,  were scattered on the floor.  There was a wrapper in each hand, too, but these ones were cupped around what looked like giant marshmallows, one of which was oozing some kind of chocolate syrup from a bite mark at the top. Ron pulled the wrapper that had stuck to his face off his freckled cheek and flicked it to the ground. Harry’s eyes were fixed on him, cheeks clearly full of sweets but not moving a single inch, either out of shock or embarrassment. Possibly both. 

“Harry, mate?” Ron asked, moving to kneel on the floor, brushing wrappers aside as he did so. “You alright? Haven’t been hit with a freezing charm, have you?”

“M’fine…” Harry managed, frantically chewing as he spoke and swallowing the mouthful of sugar with an audible strain, “Sorry if I woke you.”

“Sorry if you woke me?” Ron echoed dully, staring at Harry like he was a street performer, “Forget that, I want to know what you’re doing!”

“I’m filing my taxes.” Harry said sarcastically, taking another huge bite out of one of the marshmallows and licking the chocolate from his lips as he chewed it. “What’f it look like I’doin?”He added around his mouthful, a blush rising rapidly up his slim face.

Ron gave Harry a once-over and his gaze froze at his friend’s middle. Harry was never a solidly built guy, and that was putting it lightly. Visible ribs and the occasional fear that a strong wind or spell backfire would snap him in half like a cheap quill were just part of Harry’s physique. His stomach was usually flat, almost like he had been ironed, but tonight it couldn’t have been more different.

It bulged out, solid and full, looking for all the world like Harry had swallowed a bowling ball. The black vest he slept in had ridden up against the swell of his overfilled stomach, the hem resting just above his belly button where usually it hung loosely down into his lap. His skin, pale white as fine porcelain, looked stretched to the max, dotted with small flakes of sugary detritus that stuck to the sweaty, slightly-reddened flesh of his overstuffed abdomen. Ron suddenly felt very aware of the fact that he himself was wearing nothing but some loose-fitting shorts and felt his ears get hot. He tore his eyes away and looked back up at Harry, who was still valiantly attempting to finish his food.

“Well mate, if you’ll pardon me, it looks like you’re makin’ a right pig of yourself.”

Harry’s laughter was muffled by his own fingers as he sucked the chocolate syrup from them.
“I really am, aren’t I?” He asked as he chomped into yet another sweet. His stomach gurgled slightly, protesting his continued intake, and he scowled at it before looking back at Ron, who must have looked as shocked as he felt, because Harry’s blush deepend and he quickly gulped down the marshmallow so he could speak properly. He opened his mouth to speak and faltered. 

Ron raised an eyebrow, eager to hear his friend’s reasoning.

Harry belched.

Being the youngest of 6 boys, Ron was more than used to burping. Fred and George had even gone through a phase of trying to impress Charlie and annoy Percy by having contests to see who could do it loudest and longest, though his mother had put a stop to that sharpish. Still, Ron had never heard anything quite as forceful as the guttural noise that rattled out of Harry in that instant.

“Merlin’s beard…” Ron mumbled, half to himself as Harry flopped back against the bed frame.

“Ron…” Harry said softly from where he was slouched.

“Yeah?”

“I want more…” He groaned.

Ron knew he shouldn’t have, but his hand had a mind of its own, scooping up one of the treats and placing it gently in Harry’s outstretched palm while his eyes remained fixed on the glazed expression on his friend’s sugar-smeared face. He didn’t know what to say, but he seemed to find a small, squeaky version of his voice as Harry chomped into his treat.

“Mate, not that I’m judging you or anything… But uh…Is there, uh, a reason for this or-”

Harry’s stomach gurgled and he grunted in discomfort, but forced down another mouthful anyway. The look of determination in his eyes was a far cry from the happy, placid face he had been wearing mere seconds before. If there was food before him, Harry had to have it, and he wouldn’t take something as stupid as feeling ‘full’ for an answer. He nodded and began to answer Ron’s question, still eating all the while, but taking smaller bites so as to be able to speak clearly around them.

“Y’remember Dudley?”

“What, that great big muggle cousin of yours?”

“That’s the one. You remember what he looks like?”

Ron nodded. “Like a ham.”

Harry snorted with laughter and Ron cracked a smile, trying not to focus on how Harry’s distended gut audibly glorp-ed and shifted gently as he laughed.

“He does kind of, doesn’t he? Anyway, I..” He trailed off somewhat but brought himself back to reality when Ron made a small coughing noise, “I’ve always had to do whatever he said, no matter what. Clean up his messes, distract him from bad moods, he even once made me do his P.E. homework for him and handed in a bunch of exercise scores and BMI calculations that couldn’t possibly have matched his physique less.”

Ron raised a single ginger eyebrow at this but didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt. 

“One weekend, my aunt and uncle went away with some of their friends and left Dudley in charge of the house - and me by extension. He wanted to throw a party, but I think that plan kind of died when he realised he didn’t have enough friends. His regular goons were all busy with various things, so it was just me and him. He was fine for the first few hours but I think it kind of clicked that he could do whatever he wanted and blame me for it if it went wrong.”

“Right…” Ron nodded, still not seeing how this connected to Harry stuffing his face with sugar in the middle of the night. “Then what happened?”

Harry reached down to the box of marshmallows, but he found nothing. Making a noise of discontentment, he flicked it aside. His stomach gurgled again, as if thanking him for having mercy.
“He started making me clear out the kitchen, cooking whatever I found and serving it up to him. Cereal, bacon sandwiches, trifle, he didn’t care as long as he had something to eat. When we ran out of actually filling stuff I kept him occupied with snacks until the ice cream was melted enough to eat. When those eventually ran out, he started ordering. I think he had swiped - or been left - a substantial wad of cash from my uncle. I was given a handful of notes and sent out to restock the kitchen while he ordered pizza for his second dinner.”
Harry paused briefly and winced shortly before another belch rattled out of him. He smiled sheepishly at Ron, who returned the look, and kept talking. 

“So, you get the idea. He spent a whole four days glued to the sofa in his pyjamas, eating until he fell asleep and expecting everything to be cleared away and replaced with fresh snacks by the time he woke up. On the second night he made me jimmy the lock on the liquor cabinet just so he could get drunk. I don’t think he liked how the stuff tasted but he kept drinking it - maybe to show off that he was the man of the house? I dunno. Either way, he ended up drunk and ate way too many kebabs while watching one of those brainless comedy shows he likes. He ended up too stuffed to move and too drunk to coordinate himself so I got roped into doing everything he couldn’t, right down to feeding him his brownies and even rubbing his belly to fend off a stomach ache while he called me names. At least, I think he was calling me names. He wasn’t exactly legible at that point. And…”

“And?” Ron asked, only now realising how far he had leaned forward as Harry described his cousin’s abhorrently selfish, greedy behaviour.

“Well… By the last day, his shirt didn’t fit him properly anymore and I’d refilled the kitchen two more times. He made me haul him to his bedroom so he could try and find something that fit him and I could tidy up the lounge and make sure no mess was left before my aunt and uncle got home, but no matter what I couldn’t shake the sensation of touching his stomach. It was so big, not to mention warm! No matter how much he put into it, it was always soft. Softer than soft; you never felt as much as minor tightness under all that. The kind of thick fat layer you get from never doing a day’s effort - let alone work - in your entire life.”

Harry had a strange expression now. Usually when he discussed Dudley or the Dursleys, his face was set with grim determination to get the conversation over as quickly as possible. But now there was a glitter in his eyes. Something covetous and spiteful, filled with envy and lust. He wasn’t looking at Ron anymore, either, instead he was staring out of the window at the moon. He spoke up again before Ron was able to comment.

“I wanted that. Knew it the second I first touched it. I kept thinking about what it would be like to be him, sitting around with a mother that feeds every craving to the extreme and a father that buys you whatever you want. Never being told no. Never even being told to dial it back. Being so notoriously greedy that you get an entire birthday cake - with enough slices to match your age - all to yourself every year to prevent you from stealing other people’s slices, not that anyone would dare refuse you if you did. Being too big to push around if someone thinks they’re more deserving of their meal than you are…”

The pin seemed to drop in his head and he snapped out of his reverie, shaking his head slightly before turning to Ron, who was so flushed his freckles would be indistinguishable if his face wasn’t mere inches from his own. Harry felt a strange sensation and looked down. The curve of his swollen, overstuffed stomach was pressing into the bare, freckled tummy of his best friend like a sheet of bread dough resting on a solid iron ball. Something else, hidden by the bulge of his middle, was poking into Ron as well, perked up by his frenzied mental images of himself outweighing his already massive cousin. He would have been more embarrassed had the same something of Ron’s not been jabbing insistently into one of his scrawny thighs.

“R-Ron, I, Uh-”

“Just kiss me, mate.” Ron cut in, leaning in further and pressing his lips briefly to Harry’s, one of his hands creeping up from the rug to caress the side of his distended belly, the other supporting his weight so he didn’t lean too hard on his friend. Harry gasped slightly in surprise but soon went back in for a more passionate kiss, breath catching in his nose slightly and making him produce a short, high-pitched snort.

Ron broke away from the kiss laughing and gently patted Harry’s stomach. It made a noise like a barrel of pumpkin juice getting smacked.
“A fitting noise for a little piggy, eh?” The redhead asked, allowing one of his fingers to trace the shallow, tight navel poking out from the hem of Harry’s vest.

Harry grinned and snorted again, this time with purpose, before craning his torso forward until he and Ron were leaning up on their knees against each other, pressing against each other for support. Harry bumped his taut, solid belly into him.
“Feed your piggy then, Ron.” He cooed, shifting slightly to rub against his taller friend, moaning slightly at the sensation of Ron’s soft slightly hairy abdomen tracing over his hairless, solid globe of indulgence, “Feed me up to a proper size…”

Ron scrambled up, the tent in his shorts all the more obvious as he pulled Harry to his feet and pushed him gently into bed, propped up against the pillow like a trophy. He kissed the ball of compacted food and smiled.

“You have a little rest here, I think I can guess where your sweets are stashed.” He said, yanking Harry’s Hogwarts trunk out from under the bed and opening it at the foot of the frame so Harry could pick what he wanted. Atop the pile of half-folded school clothes and final-year textbooks sat a veritable hoard of nutritionally bankrupt snacks, both sweet and savoury, both of muggle and wizard origin, glimmering up at him like so many treasures in a Gringotts vault. 

“Blimey, you were planning to work your way through all this while I was asleep?”

Well, I couldn’t manage it all at once, but-”

“That would be so fucking hot.” Ron mumbled, unable to hold himself back and casting a look over at the scrawny, overfed boy sat on his bed. Harry made a face of something Ron could only describe as ‘ravenous arousal’ and bit his lip.

“Well,” Harry murmured, cheeks going pink again as he eyed the pile of calorie-laden sugary treats from various wizarding sweet shops mixed in with the processed muggle junk he had stolen from Dudley’s snack stash before leaving Privet Drive two days prior. I’m sure I could try…” He said, pulling up his vest a little further to give Ron the full view of his bloated belly.

He looked almost pregnant, but it was nothing but excess calories that would melt away all his sharp edges and then cover them entirely. Ron grabbed a packet of chocolate chip cookies like a man possessed and crawled up the bed so he was straddling Harry’s lap. He opened the bag and Harry’s belly gurgled at the smell, clearly not ready to be stuffed again after so little recovery time. Harry grinned and then pouted.

“Listen to that,” He whined, looking up over the rim of his glasses at Ron as if he disapproved of how slow the other was moving, “I’m soooo hungry…”

“Then you’d better open wide, my greedy boy…” Ron replied in a voice dripping with barely-concealed excitement, pushing the whole cookie into Harry’s mouth and pressing up against him as he chewed. “Let’s get you properly fed.”