#sorry had to repost it cus the tags weren’t working the first time ❤️

[lamamasjamas]

A/n: I love bears. You cooked, you ate down, you are phenomenal. I love when things are sciencey and kinky at the same time.

Warnings: Smut stuff, fetish fanfic/read the tags, lots of story for some reason, (It's like I was thinking about this for a long time or sm crazy like that...), Miggy gains a shit ton of weight, and Peter is fruity

"Ursus Americanus... bitch..."

Lyla was matching Miguel's energy. She had a bottle of beer in her hand and was "sipping" it as they both sat in the lab in thought. She could have laughed at the way his head perked up and his eyes widened.

He liked the idea. Lyla wasn't sure he got the joke.

The American Black Bear, one of three bears that roamed the United States and parts of North America. It could climb with its sharp claws, just like Miguel, and it was strong as all hell, just like Miguel.

He was very drunk, as drunk as he could be with his extraordinary metabolic abilities.

"Yeah..." he mutters. He didn't think it through, as much as Lyla enjoys watching him make a fool of himself, she had half a programmed mind to tell him that the two points of similarity were not enough to justify the need to combine his DNA temporarily through an injection in order to stave off the probability of him growing extra limbs and pedipalps.

The suppressant was first tested by December. He was meticulous in choosing which gene sequences to add into the suppressor but... he got too lazy after a while. It was a mammal, omnivore, big and strong like he was.

What could go wrong?

Nothing did... for the first half of the year. He felt great, a little hairier than usual, which prompted compliments from you, a fellow lab rat that usually came in to work at the same times he did.

He always made sure to style his hair, showing off its sudden volumity. He loved when you ran your fingers through it while in the back of his mind, he was itching to ask you out.

Miguel never thought he would though, too afraid of bringing you down with him in his self-pity and depression. But that was before and now he felt amazing, he felt stronger, he was confident again.

By Summer he really started liking your attention, to an obsessive degree, a weird degree. He asked you out, finally getting the ball rolling from always being stuck in an endless loop of will they won't they.

Lyla had teased him about it being mating season, that the hormones were giving him a push to get down and dirty. Miguel thought that was bullshit. He just liked the way your skin glowed in the sun, or how your pussy tasted after you both had ice cream during your date.

Or how your panties smelled so good, especially after they were worn for the day-

He called extreme bullshit, even then. Miguel was in denial of the instincts his new body developed due to the change of seasons.

...

"Hyperphagia."

"...What?"

"It's fall-"

"So?"

"..."

The lab was covered in food wrappers and containers. The trash bin by the side filled to the brim with scraps, most of them licked and cleaned off of any food.

Lyla was watching him carefully, not saying a word when he had wandered outside of his lab at HQ to check up on things only to find himself in front of the cook, ordering a few too many items that was allowed for the other spiders because 'he was the boss, and it was a one-time thing'.

He was bulking. He liked to think he was bulking up muscle but... anyone can see the way it all went to his thighs, that his waist wasn't as narrow as before. His shoulders were softer. At first that had given him the appearance of "bulking" but after a while, when the slight double chin didn't disappear no matter how much he attempted to stretch his neck... it was apparent that he was gaining something other than muscle.

It was concerning. You were definitely... concerned.

It was certainly concerning when his belly was the first thing to make contact with you when you hugged, or when the three main activities anyone would see him do nowadays would be sitting, watching the monitors and sleeping. The latter two always being accompanied with the combination of eating something hearty and caloric.

It should have been worrying when he first started his daily bloats. He'd stuff himself with food so bad he was in a mood until he either digested the contents in his stomach or let some of the gas out in short or long belches, only to go to bed directly afterwards.

The sex was still good, sometimes even better from how well his mouth worked you over. It was a relief that he didn't seem to be insecure about his new state, but it was strange to see him be so ignorant of it.

Sometimes he'd roll in bed, his arms would wrap around either you or the pillow, what's closest to him at the time, and he'd squeeze it close. It would wake you up from how smothered you felt, the temperature suddenly rising between you both as his bulk was half on top of you.

The cuddling was fine, you liked the affection but when he was practically making your chest collapse from how heavy he was, you almost always had to slap his, now wobbling, wide back in order to take a full breath in.

You were alarmed, perturbed, troubled. It was bothering you how much he didn't seem to care. You sat on his desk, now cleared of his papers, as well as leftover food he had to spare, so that you and his assistant could have an intervention.

He glared at both of you, sitting in a tiny office chair you knew he didn't have before. You glance at it, narrowing your eyes and lifting a brow in question. Miguel just avoids your gaze.

He's been getting tired lately, more frequently and sporadically it seemed. It wasn't normal. Miguel was starting to sleep earlier and earlier in the day, as well as wake up later. If anything he should be well rested for the day but every two minutes his jaws would unhinge for a deep yawn.

Lyla starts again, bringing up a holographic image of a black bear and clasping her hands together as if she were explaining something to a child.

"Hyperphagia is a disorder that increases appetite."

Miguel stares as the image of the bear changes between various sizes, the season was spelled out at the top to show the change in time. You watch intently with him.

"See how it gets bigger-"

Lyla glances at you from the corner of her eye, seeing you wince at her use of the term big. It was a heavy word, now used to an excessive amount around Miguel.

Peter loved to joke, not in a hurtful way, you just knew Miguel was sensitive to certain things. He referred to Miguel as big guy sometimes, he was the boss, he sent people on mission and his stature alone was in line with the definition of big.

But the word has been thrown around more frequently lately, often earning Peter or anyone to use the phrase a shake of Jessica's head and stifled laughter from the younger spiders.

It had gotten to the point in which almost everyone was calling him the big boss. It was irritating to him but irritating to you for a different reason.

Only you were allowed to call him big. If anyone else, Lyla. And you hated the way they didn't mean it in an affectionate way, in a loving way like you did.

Lyla clears her throat and continues; she has a tone of finality.

"You're putting on weight to hibernate, but you're not hibernating. You’re metabolism is slowing and if you keep this up you’re going to be double your current size by January."

The room was silent, then his stomach growls. He sits with his hands clasped over his grumbling stomach. He wasn't listening, he was already rolling his eyes and scoffing.

Then, it was like his snout twitched, directing his attention to the entrance of the laboratory.

His head turned so quickly away from you both that his cheeks jiggled. His body recoiled as he first attempted to stand. His hips dug into the arms of the chair, and as he stood it lifted off the ground slightly.

Your glare penetrated Peter's soul. He almost cowered if not for the way Miguel blocked you entirely, his bulky body waddling over to him to reach for the bag of two burgers and three trays of fries.

Miguel doesn't look at him, instead his gaze is entirely focused on the scent of grease emanating from the brown paper bag. He's noted that the more calories and more fat he consumes, the better he feels.

The unhealthier he can eat, the better. It was like dealing with a child at times. He'd refuse to eat his vegetables, making the excuse that he had already filled up with steak and potatoes, only to be sitting on the couch with his hand shoved down a bag of family sized chips.

Peter claps Miguel's shoulder, his fingers dig into the meat of it and squeezes. Peter avoids your gaze, the way you cross your arms and spit out his name in irritated greeting.

"I'm the delivery boy now, I guess..." Peter's voice lilts off into discomfort and awkwardness.

"Like a cheesy porno," you sharply respond. Miguel chuckles and sits down heavily, the platform wobbling and shaking as his ass met the plush seat.

Peter swallows thickly, he watches as Miguel finishes the first burger in two bites. Miguel pushes two fingers in his mouth, covered in grease and sauce.

His lips wrap around his fingers, and he sucks, his tongue swirls between them and he closes his eyes in bliss. Peter's gaze was on the way his fingers disappeared in and out of his mouth in repetition.

His body shook in a chill at the sound of Miguel's deep satisfied moan. Blood was starting to rush south, and his stomach was curling at the sight of Miguel's hand cradling the side of his gut as he downed a large soda.

"Oh god..."

Lyla had been informing you of Peter's sudden frequent appearances. Miguel was oblivious to it, Peter had always been nice, to an annoying degree, and his mind was mostly clouded in hunger anyway. If someone was willing to get food for him, he wasn't going to complain.

It was innocent, purely sexual. So Lyla says. Miguel had no idea though, which then prompted you to wave the situation off. Seeing it happen in front of your eyes, Peter attempting to hide the way he was drooling over your fat lard of a boyfriend and helping him become even larger was... daunting.

Your eyes landed on his hard on, peaking through his sweats. Peter’s eyes lifted to yours and he froze. You weren't angry, surprisingly. But there was a hint of determination in your eyes that he knew meant things were going to get complicated for him.

Your hand went up to caress Miguel's scalp, your body leaning over him to kiss his cheek. He leans into the touch and hums, seemingly forgetting that other people were in the room with him.

"Gonna go make dinner, ok?" you say sweetly, your mouth still pressing against his skin as you whisper to him intimately.

His stomach growls at the thought of your cooking alone. He tilts his chin up as you continue to massage the back of his head. His body slumps further into the back of the chair, his manboobs pressing further up his chest atop his swollen stomach.

Peter stands awkwardly. But he stays put. You imagine he was going to stay a while and watch, maybe even bring back some more food for Miguel to consume.

"It's early..." Miguel responds, his brow arching as he stuffs a hand full of fries down his throat. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stifles a burp.

You glance up at Peter, your eyes narrowing the second you noticed his cock twitch at the sounds of Miguel chewing and swallowing.

"Making something special tonight, big guy."

You wipe Miguel's mouth clean before leaning in for a kiss. He merely purses his lips in order to reciprocate, his eyes gleaming at the possibilities of the evening.

You nod at Peter with a sharp look as you leave, ignoring Lyla's disappointed shake of her head as you walk out of HQ.

Seems like the intervention was for nothing.

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A/n: Where is this going you may ask? I have no idea... I like playing around with the idea that people get into kinks for different reasons. Sometimes your girlfriend starts feeding you more because she's trying to compete with your work husband.