Time To Quit
When Francis later considered everything that happened, he realized that most of what happened with his lover started with him. If he hadn't been so adamant and stubborn, nothing would have changed. Or at least not changed so ridiculously drastically. Still, even considering that, he couldn't regret what had gone on, or the results of it. It all started on New Years day...
"I want you to stop smoking."
Francis was wearing an apron as he prepared some cookies for his business. His arms crossed over his chest as he looked over at his lover, Dean, who was sitting on the couch. He was an attractive guy, and Francis was glad he had gotten such a catch. Tall, thin, and tan with shaggy blond hair and clear blue eyes, he had the type of face people would kill for. They didn't match very well at all, because Francis was the exact opposite. He was average-height, wore glasses over his dark hazel eyes, with short brown hair and pale skin. Yet somehow being complete opposites worked for them. They had been together since graduating high school, though if they were honest they were together during high school as well. They hid it from their peers and parents out of fear, only coming out about their relationship the second semester of college.
Dean was smoking, which was the usual in their house. When they first moved in together they had agreed that he wouldn't smoke indoors, but then winter came, and Francis had to agree that it wasn't fair to make Dean go out and sit in the cold. Now, he was constantly smoking indoors. It drove Francis, a clean freak with allergies, right up a wall, and he was finally determined to stop it.
"That's your New Years Resolution." he said firmly, walking over. Dean looked up, smiling slightly. He thought Francis was joking.
"Aren't I supposed to chose my resolution?" he asked smartly, laughing a bit. Francis shook his head.
"Your smoking is making the house smell awful, and ruining my baking." he said. He hadn't received any complaints since winter, but he was positive that the smoking was changing the tastes of his desserts. Dean rolled his eyes, but then his face fell a bit.
"You gotta be kidding." he said. Francis raised an eyebrow. "Babe! I've been smoking since I was twelve. It's impossible. I tried everything."
"Except actually quitting." Francis said coldly. Dean's mouth opened and he took the chance to snatch up the half-finished cigarette and push it into the ashtray on the coffee table. He sighed when he saw the pathetic look Dean gave him and sat down on the couch beside him. "Honey... I just want you to quit it. It's a gross habit, and you'll be happier once you stop, don't you think?"
"No." Dead said flatly, and then sighed and leaned forward. "Yes. Maybe."
Francis smiled in triumph and wrapped his arms around his lover. He knew even then that it would be an uphill battle. He remembered when they were teenagers, sometimes Dean would try to quit smoking and get so frustrated he would come close to tearing his hair out.
"I'll pick up some nicotine gum while I'm out shopping later today." he said cheerfully. Dean didn't seem half as happy about the situation, but nodded tersely. "Good! You won't regret this."
"Right." Dead said, rolling his eyes. "You do that."
Francis laughed a bit an moved closer, kissing Dean on the cheek. He leaned against Dean and rubbed his arm soothingly.
"Can't I just finish that one?" Dean asked, sighing again. Francis sighed right back and stretched his spine.
"Stand by a window."
The next few weeks were hard for Dean, and for Francis as well. Hearing the blond sigh and groan was a constant occurrence, and picking fights was almost as common. Dean would complain about everything, from Francis humming in the kitchen to how much money they spent on gas in a week. He would toss and turn in bed and then snap at his lover when he asked him to stop. Francis, being a patient boy, was forgiving at first, but then it started grating on his nerves. Being snapped at every day for every single thing had made him near neurotic. Finally, one day when Dean threw a fit when he couldn't find his work shirt, which Francis had folded and put away instead of hanging up in the closet, Francis snapped.
"Now it's wrinkled! I can't wear this to work!" Dean grumbled bitterly, buttoning his white shirt anyway.
"Fine! If it's that big a deal, do your own damn laundry!" Francis snapped back, slamming down a tray of cookies. His face was bright red. "Even when I'm doing you favors you yell at me!"
Dean looked up, only seeing Francis' back since the man was facing the stove, and sighed.
"I wasn't yelling. Don't be so dramatic." he growled, finishing putting on his shirt. Francis sighed and lowered his head, covering his face with his hands. Dean's constant mood swings were making things even worse. "I never asked you to do my damn laundry."
He looked over at Francis, expecting at least some form of answer. All he received was a small tremble in the other mans shoulders. He sighed and moved over to the stove, stretching over to look at the pale man's face. He sighed when he saw how frustrated Francis looked and wrapped his arms around the other man.
"Look, I'm sorry." he said pulling away. "Work is stressing me out."
Francis shook his head and glanced away, his dark eyes moist behind his glasses. He wasn't usually so emotional, then again neither was Dean. Everything seemed so much more stressful than usual.
"Just pick up a damn pack of cigarettes." he said crossly. Dean sighed at the response and wrapped his arms around Francis' waist again.
"No, you aren't! You're constantly yelling and acting like a jerk!" he said angrily. Dean growled and pushed back his hair.
"I have to finish getting ready for work." he said grouchily, turning away. Francis groaned, but decided to let it slide. While Dean walked to his room, his stomach growled. "Dammit..."
Before the door slammed, Francis heard the growl and closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a bit guilty. Dean may have been being a grade-A jerk, but he was doing it all because he was trying to quit smoking. And he was only doing that because Francis asked him to... Smiling slightly, the dark-haired man took out some ingredients to make pancakes. He had only been formerly trained at a second-rate college (he had wanted to attend the same one as Dean), but before that his other had taught him everything he needed to know about baking, and eventually he took over her baking business when her arthritis was too sever to keep it up. Francis had been a late-in-life baby, his mother had been nearly forty when he was born. Now he was twenty-four and she was sixty-five, obviously unable to keep up baking large amounts daily.
While Dean was getting ready for his job Francis managed to prepare an entire stack of pancakes. He put four of them on a plate and soaked them in syrup before adding whip cream and sprinkles. He figured that was good enough for an apology and smiled at his handiwork. Within minutes, Dean came out from the bedroom. His normally shaggy hair was gelled back and he always looked great with his jacket and tie. He worked at a video-game company as a designer. When he saw the pancakes, his grumpy face lifted a bit.
"Sit." Francis said, pointing to the plate. "Eat."
Dean complied with the sitting, but didn't start eating. Instead, he just looked up at Francis with a pathetic look on his face.
"Have I been that much of a jerk?" he asked.
"Yes." Francis replied, sitting down as well across the table. "But... It's not your fault. I know I shouldn't take it personally."
There was a small silent where the two just stared at the table, before Francis leaned across the wood and kissed Dean softly on the lips.
"I love you. Even when you're a jerk. Now eat up." he said, smiling softly. "I have to bake and bag two more batches of cookies and a cake before nine."
Dean nodded and picked up a fork, and Francis started preparing the food for this morning. Meanwhile, Dean's taste buds touched the sweet treat in front of him, and he smiled. He hadn't realized how hungry he really was until he had actually taken a bite. The meal before him was huge, but he still finished the four pancakes with time to spare, and stood up with a stretch. His stomach bowed out a bit and he patted it, not paying much mind.
"Babe, that was delicious..." he said, sneaking up behind his working lover and hugging him, nibbling softly on his neck. "Thanks."
Francis smiled and turned, putting down the bowl he had been mixing. He hugged Dean back and then kissed him on the lips. He could taste the syrup clinging to his warm lips, and when he pulled away he laughed.
"I'm glad I found something that can cheer you up." he said happily, and then glanced up at the clock. "Hun, you have to leave. You're going to be late."
Dean nodded and rushed out in a hurry. Neither of the two could have known that Dean had just replaced cigarettes with a new, much sweeter, addiction.
The new addiction made itself known in a matter of days. First, Dean started requesting Francis to make more treats so that they could have some lying around constantly, which he munched on daily. Francis liked the set-up, since the sweets seemed to calm down his lover and keep him from complaining. Also, he liked that Dean had suddenly developed a sweet tooth. He'd always been polite and tried the baked goods when Francis asked, but he had never enjoyed them in the past the way he was doing presently. He smiled as he watched Dean sneak cookies whenever he went to the kitchen, or carry a slice of cake to bed.
"I guess the tobacco was keeping me from tasting how delicious your cookies were." Dean explained one day, after finishing off a dozen double-chocolate-chip cookies. Francis agreed happily and cuddled against him happily.
Of course, the sweet tooth had to effect the young man somehow, and Francis' keen eyes were able to detect the minutes it appeared. It started as a general softening of Deans body. His thighs weren't as hard, his stomach had a vague pudge to it. It didn't bother the brunette however. He thought it was almost a bit cute. Dean, however, seemed oblivious to the gain. He still wore his old clothes, which tugged at the waist and cut into him, making his soft flesh red at the end of the day.
It didn't take long for his like of sweets to become more of an addiction, and Francis had to prepare twice as much to satiate him. Once again, Francis didn't mind. He was baking all day anyway, what's an extra cake or a few more batches of cookies? And it wasn't as if Dean's stomach, slowly growing out and softer. It had surpassed being a bit soft, and was really starting to pooch out over his jeans. His stomach had a slight jiggle to it when he moved, and in the bedroom...
"Want some more?"
Dean looked up from the television, and then down at the empty plate in his hand. Had he really eaten that big slab of chocolate cake so quickly? He nodded and handed Francis his plate, smiling a bit bashfully. One hand found it's way to his belly, which was now quite round. It was pushing out against his grey t-shirt, and yet still he didn't quite notice that much of a change in his body. He knew he had gained a few pounds, but he had no idea how much it really was. Francis had to guess that his lover had put on about twenty-five pounds. His thighs were stretching his poor jeans and his butt was challenging them even more.
"I probably shouldn't..." he said femininely, even though Francis was already cutting him another piece. "But it's so good... This sweet tooth is going to ruin me."
"Nonsense." Francis retorted, smiling over at his lover. "I'm glad you like my food, and you're cravings for cigarettes has gotten better, right? You barely ever use your gum anymore..."
"That's because my mouth is always busy!" Dean laughed. Francis blushed as he handed Dean his slice of cake, even bigger than the last one, and Dean took a big bite. It was so moist and delicious. "Plus it tastes like a skunk. Cake is better."
The conversation was placed aside as they laid down on the couch and picked out show to watch, which was hard for them. Francis had one very annoying vice (in Dean's opinion), and that was a desire to constantly be watching reality shows, which Dean hated. Meanwhile, Dean was addicted to the most girly, gayest shows on the planet (in Francis' opinion), like Will and Grace, Gilmore Girls, and Fraiser. ("There's a reason they were all cancled!" Francis would argued, not that it mattered much). To keep from trying to kill each other, they agreed to take turns most of the time, and were currently watching America's Next Top Model, which seemed to satisfy both men as a comfortable middle.
Speaking of comfortable middles, Francis was quite comfortable cuddling with Deans. His whole body was so much softer and warmer, it was as if he was cuddling with a breathing pillow. He was smirking almost devilishly as Dean shoveled more food into himself. He had no idea when this had become fun, but it certainly was. It wasn't as if he were tricking Dean or anything, the blond obviously liked eating, and loved the attention as well. Their relationship hadn't been this peaceful since New Years when he had quit smoking. Dean finished off the second slice and belched quietly, filled to the brim. He groaned and moved his hips a bit, his pants digging uncomfortably into his full stomach. Francis noticed this, and stretched out.
"I'm getting tired. Can we watch this in bed?" he asked, faking it a bit. He was tired, but not enough to go to bed. Dean, ever the doting boyfriend, smiled and kissed his lovers forehead.
"That sounds like a plan." he said, as Francis pulled away and stood up. Dean did the same, and his lovers eyes smiled as he saw the muffin top bulge over the side of his too-tight jeans when he leaned forward.
'Since when have I been a chubby chaser?' Francis thought casually. He wasn't worried, since it was still Dean to whom his attractions lied, but it was a bit of a surprise to him. He had chubby chaser friends, many of which bought his top of the line desserts specifically for fattening their current boyfriend, but he'd never felt that desire himself until Dean had started chubbing up. Now he was interested in fattening up his own boyfriend.
The two boys went to the bedroom and started getting ready for bed, which for Francis meant changing into pajamas, brushing his teeth, brushing his hair, and then washing his hands and face. For Dean, however, it meant brushing his teeth and pulling off his pants, leaving him in a pair of boxers as he stumbled to bed. Francis' eyes followed him, moving down to Dean's chubby backside. He had always had a nice butt, but now it was fighting his boxers. They were going to have to go clothes shopping soon.
"Ugh. I ate too much..." Dean said in a throaty voice. Francis smirked and pushed himself up against Dean's side, placing one hand on his stomach, under his t-shirt. Dean flushed bright red. "Th-that feels weird."
"Does it feel good, though?" Francis asked innocently, starting to rub the man's stomach. Dean nodded, albeit reluctantly, and turned on the television so they could finish watching their show.
The pattern continued, but nothing really lasted forever. Francis kept making snacks for Dean, and Dean kept gobbling them up like a hungry little piglet. Until one day, when everything hit the fan. Dean was getting read for work when it happened. He had been pretending for weeks that his clothes weren't getting tighter. He told himself his work pants had always been a challenge to pull up his thighs, and even once complained to Francis to stop washing his t-shirts on hot water because they were shrinking. Than, two light pangs brought him out of his fantasy.
He had just finished buttoning his shirt, and was sitting down to put on his pants when he felt it. His shirt was snug on him, but he hadn't thought it was that tight. Two of the buttons, the ones closest to his belly button, gave up completely, and fell to the ground. Dean's face flushed red and he stood up, feeling the strain lighten only slightly. It was just his luck that before he could even process the dilemma, Francis came into the room, still wearing his blue striped pajama bottoms and not much else. When Francis saw his lover, he paused, and in that moment Dean's eyes went from Francis' toned, thin stomach, and down to his own. He had a gut. How had he not noticed? His lip trembled slightly and he tried to cover the gaping hole with his hands.
"Francis I..." he started, but he was too embarrassed to finish his thought, much less his sentence. Francis sensed what was coming and was already next to Dean when the other man needed him, grabbing onto his lover tightly. It looked a bit odd, Dean having to slouch to place his head on Francis' shoulder, making his stomach bulge out even further.
"Shush..." Francis said quietly, holding onto Dean. "Don't be upset, honey."
"How can you say that?" Dean said, pulling away. "Look at me!"
He grabbed onto his stomach, his fat bulge filling his hands and then some. When he let it go, it dropped a few inches and it jiggled, which distraught the man even further. Dean felt a pain forming in his stomach, seeped with embarrassment. Francis looked up and ran his hand over Dean's cheek.
"I am looking at you." he said softly, the tone in his voice making Dean quiver. Francis seemed to always know exactly what to say. Dean's eyes watered slightly and he sat on the bed, his stomach once again pushing out of his work shirt. Francis sat down next to him and rubbed his arm comfortingly. "Call in sick, okay?"
Dean looked up, a bit surprised before he even remembered he had to go to work, and then nodded numbly. Francis bit his lip and leaned in, kissing Dean on the cheek.
"Do you want me to call for you?" he offered, as if he were a mother. Dean shook his head.
"I can do it." he said quietly, looked down at his stomach. "But, France, what are we going to do? A-about..."
"Call first." Francis said, not letting Dean talk about his weight yet. Dean nodded again, easy to boss around in his current state.
After Dean called his boss and told him he had a stomach flu, he changed into a looser outfit, making sure his stomach was completely covered. Francis watched quietly, suddenly feeling an intense pang of guilt ringing in his soul. He could have stopped this. He saw it coming, and he should have known Dean would break down when he'd noticed. Finally Dean sat down next to him and closed his eyes. They sat in silence for some time before finally the chubby man said something.
"I... I wasn't really paying attention. You should have told me." he said, his voice dark. He lowered his head and groaned. "I'm a pig! This is... This is just..."
Francis sighed and shook his head, moving in to hug Dean. Dean almost pulled away, he was so ashamed.
"You are not a pig." he said firmly. "You quit smoking, and that's hard. Lots of people gain weight when they stop."
Dean nodded, but it almost didn't feel like he heard it. Francis sighed and hugged Dean tightly.
"We an go shopping today, okay?" he asked, smiling so Dean would. "You've needed a wardrobe update for awhile anyway. You've had that shirt since high school."
"It fit since high school." Dean half-snapped. He looked down at his stomach again. "God, Francis! How could you not tell me? It's disgusting..."
Francis bit his lip, about to cry himself. How could he explain this to Dean? He didn't even understand it himself. He grabbed Dean's hand and pulled him over, positioning them until Dean was lying on top of him on the bed.
"It's not." he said shyly, glancing down at the way Dean's fat stomach hung over him so temptingly. He leaned up, fingers brushing the orb as he kissed Dean sensually. This was the only way he could tell his lover. Dean's face was bright red still, but judging by the way his member was pressing against his sweatpants, it wasn't completely from shame anymore. Francis smiled, leaning back.
"You have got to be kidding me." Dean said, looking down at his tempting lover. "You're messing with me. You can't want to have sex with me like this."
"Why not?" Francis asked, and Dean was completely ready to answer but he was cut off. "I think you're sexy, Dean. I always have. I always will."
Dean didn't look convinced. If anything, he seemed more upset.
"I don't believe you..." he said quietly, looking away. He pulled away from Francis and laid down on his back, his stomach pushing out in front of him. "How fat am I? Be honest."
Francis, a little taken back by the question, rolled to his side and put his hand on his lovers belly.
"I don't know how to answer a weird question like that." he told Dean, looking up at him. "You're bigger, but... That isn't necessarily a bad thing."
Once that was out, Francis felt a weird sort of relief, even though Dean was giving him the weirdest look. He smiled slightly and shrugged, moving in closer and cuddling with Dean's larger side.
"You're still handsome to me." he said, and felt a small bit of triumph when the edges of his lovers mouth pulled into a small smile. "Especially when you smile."
Dean laughed a little and brushed his hand through Francis' hair.
"You mean that." he said quietly, half-questioning, but mostly a statement. "That's so... Any other guy would have told me to hit the gym weeks ago, by the looks of me. You didn't say anything. We've been having sex and... You don't mind when I eat."
"I like it when you eat." Francis corrected, smiling at his lover. "You never liked my food before."
Dean shook his head and put his hands on either side of his stomach.
"Thanks... For calming me down." he said, taking a deep breath. "But... You aren't really helping me here."
Francis blinked and tilted his head.
"What do you mean?"
"Now I don't know what to do." Dean said, raising his eyebrows and looking over. "I mean, the obvious choice would be to diet and exercise. But..."
The brunette felt his heart twist and adjusted his glasses, cuddling closer to his chubby boyfriend. He felt a bit of urgency but didn't know how to convey how much he didn't want that to happen. Dean smiled slightly and rolled his eyes.
"Don't swallow your tongue." he chided, and Francis blushed. "You're really weird... Get your hand off my stomach."
Francis blushed but did as he was told, and Dean sat up.
"I do need new clothes, so we'll start with that, I guess..." he said, and then shrugged. "We haven't been on a date in awhile. We could go out for lunch while we're at it.... You know, if you aren't embarrassed to be seen with a fatty."
"Don't be like that." Francis said, standing up and hugging Dean. "That sounds really great, hun. I'm excited now."
Dean shrugged and ran his hand through his light shaggy hair. The two went out shopping an hour later, picking out bigger work clothes for Dean, and some new jeans and t-shirt that fit his fatter frame. Francis picked out a new apron and they even bought a few books, just to keep Dean from feeling like they'd been dragged out simply because he was a fat slob, which is what he said twice before Francis finally begged him to stop. After buying everything, Dean went to change into a nice, clean, lose outfit. When he came out, he seemed shy and kept his hands in his pockets.
"You look great." Francis said, wrapping his arms around Dean's meatier arm. "Where should we eat?"
"Let's go somewhere casual." Dean said shyly, reaching up and giving Francis' hand a small squeeze. He seemed to be feeling a bit better about the whole situation. They got into the car and he started driving. "Just a steakhouse?"
Francis agreed and turned on the radio, looking shyly at Dean. He figured once they ordered their food, he would receive some sort of answer to the question nagging him in the back of his mind. If Dean ordered a salad, or anything like that, he wouldn't complain. When Dean ordered a hamburger with double fries, he almost sighed with relief, but managed just barely to hold it back. His smile must have given it away, however.
"Don't look so happy." Dean said as he handed the menu's back to the waiter. One their server walked away he leaned forward. "I... I figured... You must... kinda like this. Was I right?"
Francis blushed bright red, and then nodded.
"I don't know how it happened, I just... You got that sweet tooth, and then you got bigger and... It feels so good... I thought as long as you didn't notice, it didn't matter." he admitted, and then looked down. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."
"Yeah, you should have." Dean told him. "Or at least told me to buy a new shirt so I didn't have to find out that way."
Lowering his head, Francis sighed and agreed. Dean smiled and reached across the table to take his boyfriend's hand.
"I forgive you, though." he said, smirking. Francis smiled back and they chit-chatted before the food arrived. Once it did, Dean chowed down, having missed his usual sweet breakfast treat. Francis ate his own meal, chicken with potatoes, with almost as much vigor. Dean smiled at him and poked his cheek. "Watch out, or you might turn into a fatty too."
Francis laughed quietly and bit his lip. He hadn't expected Dean to be fine so quickly, but Dean had always been a bit fickle, even with his emotions. He changed his mind constantly, and maybe now he was looking at the bright side of a couple of pounds. It seemed that way, as he finished off his fries without even blinking.
"Let's skip dessert. Yours are better." Dean told him, rubbing his stomach under the table. Francis nodded excitedly and stood up, Dean paying for the meal because it was his turn.
"I'll make something special." he responded. Dean stood up, standing a whole head taller than Francis.
"Nothing too special, babe." he laughed. "I gotta make these clothes last..."
Dean's clothes didn't last. At least not as long as he had hoped they would. Two months later, they were tight. Three weeks after that, the first seam gave up, his fat backside too much for them. Dean enjoyed the fat life a bit too much, increasing his intake of foods no longer because he craved cigarettes, but just because he wasn't full. He was practically finishing a cake a day, along with huge breakfasts, lunches and dinners and and half a dozen cookies for every snack. Of course he'd bloat right up, and Francis enjoyed every new inch of him.
He went from chubby to flabby, a double chin forming and his soft stomach starting to sag down and form rolls. His body was jiggly and warm, and Francis couldn't get enough of it. Their sex life had never been better, which only increased Dean's addiction when they started bringing food into the bedroom. Francis no longer bothered using pillows, using his boyfriends flabby upper arms and letting Dean hog most of the bed by sleeping on his lovers soft form. The only downside, as far as Francis was concerned, was that Dean wanted the air conditioner on every minute of every day, keeping the house half-freezing for the skinnier man. It was great for decorating cakes, but not for his poor fingers and toes. But even that he couldn't complain about too much, since it gave him an excuse to grab onto Dean's fat jelly bag of a belly to warm up his hands. Not that he really needed to excuse, since Dean loved having his stomach touched and fondled. Probably even more than Francis liked touching it in the first place.
"Ugh... I don't want to get new clothes." was all Dean said when the both heard the rip.
"You shouldn't have put it off." Francis said smartly. "I've been trying to tell you--"
"I know, I know." Dean said, rolling his eyes and sitting back, his shirt sliding up his stomach. "I got new work clothes, at least..."
Francis laughed and moved in, kissing Dean softly.
"At least." he said sarcastically, sticking a finger into the fat mans deep belly button. "And you'll keep popping out of these ones? Why? I mean, it's pretty sexy and all, but..."
Dean rolled his eyes and pushed his lover's hand away, making his stomach jiggle when Francis' finger popped out. He laughed and grabbed onto his belly, looking down at it.
"Damn, this has all happened way too fast... I have to have gained a fifty pounds since New Years, and it's not even August yet." he groaned, leaning back.
"Is that a bad thing? It looks good on you." Francis said, patting the top of Dean's blossoming belly. "And it's probably more like sixty...."
"No way." Dean argued, sitting up. His love handles stuck out of his shirt and Francis reached down to squeeze them.
"Uh-huh." Francis teased, and then moved closer, straddling Dean's tick lap. Dean had such big thunder thighs that Francis had to spread his legs completely to fit around them. "And I bet you're still hungry after dinner, aren't you?"
Dean nodded, his second chin bobbing as he did so, and Francis smiled. He trailed his fingers over Dean's girth, and then pulled up his lovers shirt. One of his favorite parts of Dean's glorious new body were the red stretch marks scaling up his pale stomach. Well, paler than the rest of the man, but still darker than Francis' skin. His fingers ran down the lines, making his lover quiver.
"You know what the best part of this is?" Francis asked, and Dean looked up lustfully.
"What?" he asked, voice dark and sexy.
"I finally got the smoke stains off the ceiling!" Francis laughed, pointing up. Dean growled and rolled over, making Francis laugh even louder. As he was pushed into the couch and his lover mounted him.
"Your precious ceiling..." Dean said, leaning in and nibbling Francis' neck. "Don't you have better things to pay attention to?"
"Maybe..." Francis said, teasing Dean even more.
As Dean worked hard to unbutton his fat-stuffed jeans under his flabby stomach, an almost impossible mission, all Francis could think was how amazing their lives were now.