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Martin did not like to complain, which meant that he rarely if ever did. Even when he probably should have. Much to his relief, there was practically nothing at all for him to complain about at the Institute.
He enjoyed the work that he had ostensibly been brought on for. Collating, filing, office housekeeping, a bit of research here and there. Perhaps it might have gotten old if he’d been expected to do that for eight hours a day, but really, they didn’t ask much of him at all. Martin’s real job, as it turned out, was companionship. For the entire archival department, whose lives were much more stressful than you might have expected, but mostly for the head archivist.
At least to begin with.
Martin had felt a bit self-conscious about Jon’s truly excellent care at the start (or felt that he ought to at least put on the appearance of being so), but he’d quickly grown accustomed to it. The toys, the new clothes, the soft beds, all of the attention and affection…and of course the rich food. But Jon did have a job he was supposed to be doing, so theoretically all of his time couldn’t be spent with Martin, which Martin very much understood. But that also meant that he was more than happy to accept the attention the director of the Institute had suddenly begun to pay to him.
Elias was matter-of-fact in his care. He seemed to have an uncanny knack for knowing when Martin was lonely or bored, and he spent much more time at the Institute than Jon did (especially once he started strictly enforcing Jon’s working hours because he wasn’t planning on getting into hot water with any regulatory bodies). He bought Martin clothing he didn’t even have to try on, knowing it would be a bit loose…although that never lasted. He fed Martin snacks in between the meals (and other snacks) that Jon gave him. And he was a dab hand at brushing Martin’s enormous tail and ruff, which matted easily otherwise.
Jon was not exactly thrilled about the state of things. “Thought I was your favorite,” he muttered one afternoon as he scratched Martin’s ears. Martin was in his cozy bed beside Jon’s desk, chin resting on his thigh as he worked, purring loud enough Jon’s chair nearly rattled.
“I don’t have favorites,” Martin half-retorted, and could tell by the way that Jon started that he either hadn’t meant to say that out loud, or hadn’t thought he could hear him. “I-I mean, you are. Or, rather…you’re both my favorites. It’s just different.” He yawned, lips stretching past back his long canines. “Elias is. Nice.”
And he was. When Jon was recording and had to shut Martin out of his office so that his purring didn’t show up on the tape (something he only started doing after several very pointed requests from the grad students using the archival materials for their research), Martin had used to mope about outside, grudgingly receiving attention from Sasha and Tim. But Elias started having him up to his office to sit with him while Jon was taping. In fact, he even set up something of a satellite office down in the archives for the same purpose once going up and down the stairs got to be a bit difficult for Martin since, between Elias’s ministrations and Jon’s, he’d put on rather a lot of weight.
Perhaps he ought to have been concerned about it, or at least embarrassed, but even with the physical restrictions his increasing size was placing on him, Martin found he quite liked the obvious evidence of how well he was being taken care of. It was lovely to feel his own warm plushness when he settled down into a bed or onto a chair or into someone’s lap, and somehow satisfying to hear them grunt beneath his weight. He especially enjoyed his growing belly, the well-fed velvety sway of it even when tucked into his clothes, how close it was to filling his lap when he sat. When he was alone, at the end of the day, after Jon and Elias had spent a good twelve to sixteen hours filling it up for him, he lay in a bed he dreamed about outgrowing, and kneaded at his own gut, purring fiercely to himself.
That, he was a bit embarrassed about. One of the few things he feared these days was that someone would walk in on him doing that…or somehow know how much he enjoyed it. Or insist he lose weight. That was why he was so relieved that Elias had stopped scolding Jon about overfeeding him. Probably because he was just as great a contributor to the problem these days.
“I’ve never actually had a pet before,” Elias commented as he set a dish of ice cream in front of Martin. “I didn’t realize how…fulfilling I’d find it.”
“Well, I’m - ” Martin let out a laugh that came out a bit more indignant than he’d meant for it to, and barely managed not to interrupt it with a belch. “Not quite a pet.”
“Mm-hm,” Elias agreed, in a patronizing tone that Martin might have been offended by if the ice cream hadn’t been so good…and if Elias hadn’t been petting through his ruff as he said it. “Of course not. Eat up, kitten.”
Elias and Jon reached something of an uneasy understanding, and Martin split his time between the two of them. After several months, he’d begun to feel quite spoiled indeed…and quite sure that he weighed well over three hundred pounds now. Far too fat to be a lapcat, it seemed, but he hardly minded, with how lazy he’d gotten. Everyone came to him, to feed him, pet him, dangle a bit of string he pawed sleepily at…
It was marvelous. And then the end of the year rolled around, and Elias and Jon began to argue. The Institute, being an academic organization, closed for six full weeks between December and January. Jon thought it was a stupid policy, but that wasn’t currently in dispute. Where Martin would reside for those six weeks was.
“He can’t stay in the Institute,” Elias said reasonably.
“I’ll come in every single day - I could stay here, there’s a cot - ”
“No, Jon. We shut the heat off.” Everyone politely ignored the fact that Martin probably didn’t need indoor heating at that point. “And you need a holiday from this place, too. More than anyone, really.”
“Then he’s coming home with me,” Jon said stubbornly. “He’s archival staff. Sort of.”
“Do you even have room for him, in that shoebox of yours?” Elias asked, arching an eyebrow. Jon opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Elias turned to Martin and asked, “Where would you prefer to stay?”
Martin, who had been watching the exchange with flattened ears and a thrushed tail, was caught entirely off-guard. “M-me? I - I don’t - ”
“He will stay with me.” Elias cut Martin off politely. “And you will see him, Jon, in the new year. This matter is settled.”
“He can’t go home with you!” Jon snapped. “You’ll have to roll him back to the Institute!”
That was the first time in months that anyone had mentioned Martin’s weight negatively. He flinched, but neither Elias nor Jon noticed.
“This matter,” Elias said again firmly, “is settled.”
And apparently it was, because even though Jon threw a huge fit - even larger than the one he’d pitched when Martin had first been brought to the archives - Martin left that evening with Elias. He was bundled into a new coat, specially made, and a collar, and tethered to Elias by a fine leash of tooled green leather. Martin didn’t think that that lattermost thing was really necessary…where was he going to go, and how fast could he possibly get there? But it felt nice to be owned.
Martin had a hard time getting what Jon had said out of his mind…but not impossible. The worry left him quite handily after Elias got him home, and the two of them settled in for the holiday.
Elias’s flat was more or less exactly what Martin would have expected from knowing him: rich and plush, in an understated way. Everything was state-of-the-art, supremely high-quality and comfortable without being flashy. And Elias had already prepared for Martin’s presence, with toys (that didn’t get too much use during the break), plush beds, and soft blankets draped over the many sofas and armchairs. Martin had his pick of spots to stretch out and lounge around in…which was what he spent most of the holiday doing.
He also spent it eating. Really, he ate more than anything else.
Elias seemed a bit unprepared to have Martin around all the time, at least to begin with. Martin caught him furiously going at one of his chairs with a lint roller after Martin had left it practically felted with ginger hair, and the first time that Martin padded silently up behind him, nuzzled the top of his head, and said plaintively, “I’m hungry,” Elias…was not at all startled, but did seem a bit annoyed. He adjusted quickly, though. When he woke up in the middle of the night with Martin purring on his bed, filling most of the empty space, he sighed, rolled over onto his back, and said, “Come here, then.”
Martin was only too happy to climb on top of him, making biscuits on his chest and purring as Elias weakly petted his curls. Hearing him wheeze, he looked down with a frown. “I’m not too heavy, am I?”
“Not at all,” Elias said, voice strained.
But even in the adjustment period, Martin did have to give Elias credit: he never ran out of food. Martin ate four meals a day, the finest cuts of tuna and salmon and blue beef off fine china plates, drank heavy cream out of crystal dishes. He reclined on the sofa in pajama pants, belly heavy and swollen with treats, and watched television, something he hadn’t had the opportunity to do for quite a while. Whenever Elias walked past, Martin chirped at him, and Elias would, without fail, pause to pet his ears, or jiggle his gut a bit, and ask him, “Good boy. Want something else to eat?”
Obviously, Martin grew while at Elias’s flat, slowly inflating under his undivided attention. He didn’t do much but sleep and eat at the Institute, either, but the situation was even more extreme here. He was expecting to plump up further, that was an entirely natural consequence and one he was rather looking forward to, but even as he felt himself growing heavier and rounder, he didn’t realize just how big he’d gotten until the six weeks were up (so fast!) and it was time to return to the Institute.
Elias had taken the liberty of having a whole new wardrobe spun up for Martin, after measuring him during one of his naps…Martin had dozily wondered what he was doing, and now he supposed he knew, standing in front of the wall-sized mirror in Elias’s guest room as he helped him dress. Even before he got into the button-up, vest, and slacks, Martin found the results shocking, not having looked at himself much recently.
His belly hung past his knees; the thick trail of fur that ran from his ruff down to his groin had thinned significantly as it was stretched out, but he somehow seemed to have more freckles than ever before, even though he certainly hadn’t gotten much sun. His arms were thick and flabby, and his hips and thighs had gotten so wide he could see them even behind his impressive gut. If he wanted to touch the floor with the tip of his tail, he had to curl it over his ass; he could feel the jut and curve of it. His face had gotten even rounder, his chins disappeared into his fur, and he had large, soft breasts.
They were quite perky once he was fully dressed. It was an odd sight to see himself all tucked in and up like this, having mostly worn pajamas and sweats and other things his belly could hang comfortably out of while he was away from the Institute.
“Turned you into quite the little butterball, haven’t I?” Elias commented placidly once he’d gotten Martin dressed, patting one of his love handles, and Martin blushed hard…but purred harder.
But even as much as he’d enjoyed himself, and as good as he felt, two things weighed almost as heavily upon Martin’s mind as the new fat did upon his body: what was Jon going to say, and how angry was he going to be?
Martin was deeply apprehensive as he waddled back into the Institute. The struggle and exertion of going down the stairs to the archive, so much more difficult than the last time he’d done it, provided some distraction, but even as he panted and sweated into his fur, his ears were pinned back uncomfortably. It did not help that Elias had not come down with him, heading up to his main office to get ready for the day.
Martin had hoped he would have some time to settle in, freshen up his scent on all of his things - and everyone else’s things, which were really his things anyway by dint of being in the archives. Perhaps have a post-breakfast snack with Elias before Jon came in. Or a second one, rather. But no: there, at the bottom of the stairs, very clearly waiting for him, was Jon.
Martin hadn’t realized until he saw him just how much he’d missed him…or how much Jon had needed a holiday. He looked much refreshed. Relief and affection spilled across Jon’s face, and he smiled. But only for a second before a much more severe expression replaced it.
Martin braced himself for Jon to shout, to make some cutting remark about how much he’d eaten, how fat he’d gotten, what a lazy, gluttonous beast he’d obviously been over the break.
But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. Martin wasn’t even sure why he’d ever been worried that he would.
Instead, Jon folded his arms over his chest, a look of consternated acceptance on his face, and said grudgingly, “I suppose Elias can take decent care of you. Certainly fed you well enough.” Reaching out, he put a hand on Martin’s belly, and Martin leaned into the contact. He’d just begun to purr with relief when Jon added somewhat spitefully, “But next time, I’m taking you home, and I can assure you I’ll do much better.”
Martin blinked slowly down at him, and smiled.