Chapter Text
It'd been a year since he judged them in the hallway to the throne. Sans figured it was a good day to celebrate. The kid had gotten through without gaining LOVE or tainting their soul, and even if they left them there to struggle Underground, they were in a better place. Someone with a good heart made it out there, and that was a good feeling to leave it all on.
Today was going to be a good day too. Or, a good evening. Who could tell down here?
"aw man, math', is that really all you got? i thought you were gonna put your gold were your mouth is." Hooting and hollering followed in appreciation of the joke, even from the 'big mouth' Matthew whom it was aimed at. Sans leaned back into his stool, almost too far before scrambling back for the security of the bar counter and wheezed in a rush of adrenaline and delight. Crazy Daisy was at the end on the corner, slamming down another drink and sloppily drawing out gold from her wallet. They scattered on the countertop, she clearly didn't keep track.
"YyyeaaHHaha! Well I's meant it, yanno? Grillbz, I love ya baby but yer hot sauce is murder!"
"Don't you mean arson," Sans laughed, earning another round of drunken laughs and playful shoves.
"You might be hot stuff, Sansy, but even you can't drink that straight!" Sal and Funk leaned back, ooh-ing loudly and nudging him with their elbows all the while cackling at the playful threat.
"She's got a point man, that stuff is brutal! It'll burn a hole right through you!"
"heh. sounds like a hollow threat to me. c'mon, pals," Sans patted the counter and opened up his carpals. "put some money down for the condimental challenge wouldja? 500g sounds fair." Daisy slid over her pile, skittering along the counter and plinking off their glasses. He scraped it together and winked. "did you hear 500g? i definitely said 5000g. wow, talk about selective hearing."
"Sans!!" Grillby was prepared for the exchange already, mindfully watching their sobriety dwindle through the night and as their sole company. He flickered by and set out a new bottle of his special Flaming Hot Sauce. Sans drummed his fingers over the bottle, grin spreading wider as he leered back at the gathering of his friends watching and waiting through the suspense. He broke the seal and set it to his teeth, waiting another moment to throw it back. The aroma was strong, he could feel the pepper already try stinging the inside of his eyesockets.
"heh heh heh, whelp. time to spice things up a bit."
"Ohh, gosh, don't do it-" Sans threw back his head and began the stream of lukewarm liquid, dissolving into pure magic in his mouth. It was runnier than his usual ketchup binge and easily tried to leak through his teeth but he sucked in, adamant on taking the whole bottle. There was no doubt this was searing, it lit his senses on fire and heat trembled along the length of his bones. It burned because the magic it bore burned, and as it settled into his lovely central sack, already plump and full from the earlier evening's dinner, he could feel it spreading like a wildfire from within. Hot sauce was not as much potent in pure magic as much as it was an ignition, a spark, and Sans shuddered halfway through the bottle, feeling a very real possibility ahead of him if he continued. Spontaneous combustion- he could be on fire before he even got to the end of this quite literally.
Maybe if he weren't Sans that would be the case, though. Sans was the master of his field of magic and the creator of his globular ball of energy he affectionately called his tummy. It squeezed and popped in protest, sounds drowned out by a cheering crowd to chug but he felt stabbing pain in the side come from his partner in crime. His stomach continued to prickle against the intense drama unfolding against it. Subconsciously, he slid his hand through the hole in his hoodie pocket to hold it closer, bring more physical contact to it and to assert his control over the hot sauce as the bottle drained. Instead of him erupting like a shaken bottle, it was his friends who blew up, cheering on and raising their glasses and bottles in celebration of the idiotic dare.
He rubbed his pudge and swallowed a gulp of cool air to calm his burning stomach, burping it back up a moment later on the backend of a chuckle. Their laughter was contagious, borderline hysterical.
"Y-Yer too much Sansy! I wish you would swallow me for a change," Daisy sighed before sliding off her stool into a giggling mess on the floor.
"Oh- eugh- k-keep your breath away, I don't want that stuff burning my fur off!" Funk took out his comb to check his heavily gelled hair.
"uurrgrup! heh. i don't mean ya any rug burn there, bud." They were wheezing. "wow, you all are just eating this up." Satisfied with himself, he eyed his prize winnings in silent consideration before shoving half of it towards Grillby. "i think i earned another double thick burg and fries for that one." The bartender collected it up and shuffled to the back.
"Oh stars, a-another? Does ANYTHING make you sick, dude?"
"H-H-He's like the Iron Stomach! It's a riot, I saw him eat the super deep fried bits at the bottom of the fryer when Grillby was cleaning once- I thought Grillbz was gonna loose it!" Sans nearly barked out in laughter over the sudden glorious memory, his stomach bouncing along with in his lap.
Very shortly later, his eyes caught sight of the plate being brought out, steaming hot and grease still sizzling, and Sans's tingling energy reacted to the sight. Saliva formed in response, beginning to drip through his tight grin before the plate could even be sat before him. He was contently full, yet still on the edge of his seat in heavy, heated anticipation as if starving.
"what can I say," He winked, taking up the massive burger, dripping with grease, hot melting cheese, and gooey ketchup. "i like my meat and greets, no bones about it." It was an awful unholy mess to behold and just the way he liked it. Their amusement and shenanigans blended into the background when he took the first bite of his fourth burger for the night, the soft squishiness of the fresh meat grinding under his molars no different than its predecessors. He felt his spine arch in excitement and stuffed the next bite in before he could even finish chewing, spurred onward with gripping, ravenous desire.
Wow. He should try hot sauce more often if it made a burg suddenly become so much like- like ecstasy. The food still transferred into magic and settled into his stomach, trying to compress down but bloating up more than the mere bottle before it had done. Seems he was really getting full now if his stomach's tightness was any indication. The magic was so condensed, he could feel the lingering heat radiate upwards to the middle of his ribs. His stomach’s shape extended as he tore into another bite, and it cut tight into his sweatshort's waistband. The discomfort it brought him left him undeterred, Sans was completely immersed stuffing his mouth as full as physically possible. Another bite, more chewing, soft and sticky, the cheese filling the crevices of his molars. The spike of energy necessitated a tongue to divvy up the portions of the meal he stuffed inward, heightening the sensations to a new level.
He had plowed through the majority of this late meal when the tightness of his specialized organ sent a strike of retaliation in the form of white hot pain, hesitating finally to look down. He was well rounded, shirt tugging upward and the belly sneaking out. Whelp, Papyrus won't be liking that tomorrow. Sans reached to adjust his shorts to compensate for the shirt, but the tightness winded him, the elastic’s limit reached and sharp like a noose squeezing him out. Sans gulped and focused, pressing his hand against the tight, glowing sack to knead gently and coax himself, taking in the last pieces of burg with his tongue. This wasn't the first, and certainly not the last, time he'd felt painfully full. Pain was his body's way of saying, you have more magic in here than you can handle, you should stop. Sans, unfortunately, was a very bad listener.
The skeleton gave out a content huff with as much breath as he could fit between his ribs, picking off the full plate of fries drowning in ketchup as he idly listened to his friend's chatter. He should probably leave the rest of his daring earnings for Grillby tonight… the poor guy really deserved some better tips. He curled another couple fries around the temporary tongue, then saw Daisy at the end of the counter, giving him gaga-eyes again. Sans replied in kind with a messy, toothy grin, dripping of half conjured magic saliva and ketchup. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, to his delight.
"Awgh gross!"
"heh… i guess i could use a bib." He paused for effect, eyes twinkling before his tongue slithered out between his teeth, running over to clean off sloppily. "but then i'd miss out on all these leftovers." Robin flapped his feathered wings and shook his head, howling in laughter at her expense. Funk also took amusement, leaning into San's space.
"You really take in everything! What do you DO with all of that magic at the end of the day?" Honestly? He didn't do anything special with it most of the time, which was why he always seemed to go about life with a nice curvaceous shape and not thin as a rail like Papyrus. Since he 'discovered' his stomach, he just always felt better having it. Let alone how much he absolutely enjoyed food, the feeling the food, the taste of food, the fullness and energy churning of it. Skeletons just didn't feel a lot otherwise; Sans felt even less than he knew he should. Sans shrugged in reply, a feat a lot harder to pull off with how tight and tense his midsection felt, swallowing down more of his meal with evened measure.
"Oh you know, just saving it to break the barrier someday." The joke came out ahead of his ability to treat the topic with the sensitivity it deserved, and when no immediate reaction met him, Sans's permanent smile stretched wider into an awkward grin. Damn, he knew better than to bring up the barrier. The pain in his abdomen balled up like a fist, sudden and forceful, and he stopped himself mid reach for the fries, wincing.
His friends, however, nearly exploded with rapture and all of the stress drained from him once again, his stomach settling with a soft gurgle and allowing him short, but easy, breaths again. Sans thought for a moment he killed them because they were in a manic frenzy now, laying on the counter and holding onto each other for support... but, of course they'd had enough alcohol to drown even Onionsan so he put it past him, focusing on the end of his fries. He shoveled them in, eating all at once as Sans felt pressed to do so before his body remembered to give him more signals. Good timing too, no sooner had he pushed them all into his maw had his stomach rumbled angrily and with might of its own accord. He held the counter for support once more in wait for everyone around, and all that was inside him, to calm down.
Urrhghghglllllghlloourgh…
Ohhhh, it was feeling so hard to keep that magic. His face flushed blue with the effort, nodding dumbly as vertigo gripped, colors blending together, motions strung together under black light, his friends, oblivious, continuing on with exaggerated motions. Sans stuffed both hands into his jacket pockets to hold his stomach and focus on the energy. He just had to compress it, digest it, get it down so it was manageable. The idea of walking home was daunting but he had so much magic pent up from his gorging, he had an uneasy feeling he might direct the magic wrong and wind up god-knows-where.
His eye sockets stooped lower in exhaustion the longer the minutes wore on like this, and someone must've gotten the idea that he was trying to nod off at the bar now. The next thing Sans knew, two arms were under his shoulders and hoisting him off from the stool back to his feet. His friends lamented his heaviness and he snickered at them, straightening out his back for balance. The stomach hung free without his femur to rest upon now, dipping lower than the shirt with a tell-tale blue glow and pressing harder yet into the waistband of his shorts.
Pft, who needed that? Obviously, bigger shorts were going to be in order. He’ll remember that next time.