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Old 10-19-2007, 04:35 PM   #1
Big Beautiful Dreamer
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Default Keep it Simple - by Big Beautiful Dreamer (~BHM, Stuffing, ~Gay Sex)

~BHM, Stuffing, ~Gay Sex - A gay couple discover the erotic pleasures of stuffing and growing a pot belly.

Keep It Simple

by Big Beautiful Dreamer

Elliott Parker made a face at himself as he lathered up. He was putting on weight. Cautiously he laid a hand on his midriff. Was it softer? How long had his stomach … folded … like that? Lost in thought, he started at the embrace from behind. Bryan, dressed only in jeans, had come up behind him and wrapped his long arms around his chest, resting his chin on Elliott’s shoulder.

“Mmm. Morning,” Bryan mumbled, eyes closed.

Elliott laughed in spite of himself. Bryan had never been a morning person.

Bryan rocked back and forth for a moment, then slid his hands downward and loosened the towel, making it fall to the floor. He slid his hands back and forth across Elliott’s belly, then cradled it as though it were a kitten. Elliott froze. His belly was bigger. There didn’t used to be anything to cradle, but Bryan had a good handful. Where once his waistline was flat, it was spreading, his gut lapping over below his navel. That was what Bryan was caressing.

“Stop,” Elliott mumbled, pushing Bryan’s hands, but Bryan only moved south.

“Stop, I mean it,” Elliott said weakly, his voice lacking authority. “We’ll both be late to work.”

Bryan’s hands stopped and he nuzzled into Elliott’s neck, kissing. He mumbled something.

“I’m getting fat,” Elliott said.

Bryan’s gaze met his in the mirror. “Stop it,” he said. “You’re gorgeous.” He kissed the neck again, then pretended to bite it. “Come on … a little late … you can be tardy.”

“No, I can’t,” Elliott said reluctantly, wanting to fall into the bed with Bryan. “Really. The principal’s been cracking down. I have to be there by eight.”

Bryan pouted. “Tonight I’ll bring home Chinese. We can go to bed … early.” He shook Elliott by the shoulders. “You’re not fat. Stop being silly.” He left, and Elliott heard him filling his travel mug. Quickly Elliott shaved and put on a clean white shirt, then trousers. He grimaced as he tugged the pants closed and, with a grunt of effort, did up the zipper. He knotted a tie into place. Socks, shoes, tie pin. There. He was ready for another day of fourth-graders.

He got himself a cup of coffee and heard Bryan’s electric razor going. A few minutes later Bryan emerged in jeans and a pink button-down shirt. The dress code at the company where Bryan was a software engineer was more casual than at the charter school.

Elliott got through the day, but he remained distracted. Where had that little pot belly come from? He was 5’9” and had been in the neighborhood of 175 … at least he once had been. On the other hand, he doubted he’d weighed himself since before the commitment ceremony, which was two years ago now. Bryan was taller, by three or four inches, with long arms and legs. He had an average build with a little softness around the waist, and he still made Elliott’s heart skip a beat.

Elliott got out of school by three and went straight to the gym. He worked out for an hour – twenty on the treadmill and forty with upper body weights – then showered again, quickly, and headed home. He paged through a magazine until he heard Bryan’s key in the lock. Bryan was smiling broadly and carrying bags of takeout.

“Let’s eat in bed,” he said. “I got a new CD.”

Bryan was adept with chopsticks and fed himself and Elliott, while Elliott, using a fork, fed himself as well. Between the two, he ate a goodly amount of rice, beef and broccoli, and sesame chicken, in fact, much more than he’d meant to. Sated, he lay back on the pillows and groaned, rubbing his engorged belly, which was tender and sore. Bryan propped up on his elbows and gazed at it.

“You are so hot,” he said softly.

“Stop,” Elliott groaned. “I’m a pig.”

“I will not let anyone talk about my spouse that way,” Bryan said firmly. He reached for a bottle of lotion on the nightstand and squirted some into his hand, letting it warm up a little. He began gently massaging it into Elliott’s aching stomach, by now straddling his thighs, frankly admiring the bloated gut. Elliott had eaten much more than he’d intended to and his ballooning belly was a wonder. Tautly distended, it protruded, round, smooth, and firm. Bryan marveled at how unyielding his partner’s belly was. There was no give at all.

Elliott moaned. “Ohhh … don’t stop.”

“Feels good?” Bryan teased.

Elliott moaned again. “Stuffed to the brim.” He tried and failed to suppress a belch. “Ohhh …” he rolled his eyes. “About to burst.”

Gently, so gently that Elliott didn’t realize it at first, Bryan moved from Elliott’s full and aching belly to his privates. He lowered himself onto Elliott and embraced him; the two men rolled slowly to the side and Elliott let himself be cradled, warm and intimate, damp and close, somehow the embrace became foreplay and the foreplay became sex, slow and deeply passionate, lasting forever and no time at all, and then it was over, and Elliott and Bryan lay twined in each other’s arms, their breathing slowing.

Elliott closed his eyes, unable to look at Bryan. “I don’t know why you love me.”

“Because I do.”

“I’m fat. I’m a pig,” Elliott mumbled.

Bryan sighed. “Correct me on this,” he said patiently, “but did we not just have the best sex ever?”

Elliott laughed in spite of himself. “Maybe not ever … but …”

Bryan sat up and rested a hand on Elliott’s bulging stomach, gently pushing his hand around. “It’s because you turn me on, silly.”

“Except for this.”

“No,” Bryan said. “This is part of what turns me on.”

“Yuck,” Elliott said without thinking.

Bryan lay back. “Why yuck?”

“This is … an obstacle … a … detraction …” Elliott was fumbling for words.

Bryan reached over and began massaging the belly in question. “Does that feel good?”

“Mmmm.”

“Does that feel good?”

“MMMmmm.”

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes! Yes!” Elliott bit his lip. “Yes! All right?”

“Why does this make you so upset?”

“I told you.”

Bryan laughed. “You didn’t ‘tell me.’ You parroted other people’s ideas.” His stroking grew more intense. “I happen to find your belly extremely attractive. You saw me. I came into the bathroom this morning and all but jumped your bones against the towel rack. You think that was an accident? I find you very attractive. All of you. Now, stop griping and kiss me.”

Elliott did.

For a while, life returned to normal, whatever normal was, although Bryan was now in the habit of hugging Elliott from behind in the mornings in the bathroom. Elliott liked working out with weights, and as he kept at it, he firmed up everywhere except his perceptibly thickening waistline. The sex was better, although it still puzzled Elliott how his growing pot belly turned Bryan on; it unquestionably did, though. And that part Elliott understood just fine.

He avoided the scale and tried not to wince at the sizes when they went shopping for clothes. Bryan’s waistline seemed to be softening a little, he noticed, but it showed more on Elliott, and it all went right to his belly, as it will do on shorter guys.

A couple of months had passed when Elliott noticed that Bryan seemed restless one rainy Friday evening. They had rented a movie and Bryan had called for pizza. He jumped up when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.”

He came back … with two pizzas and two bottles of pop.

“Wait, what?” Elliott said.

Bryan smiled like a cat, mysterious and a little smirky. “This one’s just for you.”

“I can’t eat a whole pizza,” Elliott protested. “I don’t want to, either.”

Bryan gave him the puppy-dog look. “El … come on … you know how much it turns me on …”

“Oh, all right,” Elliott said. In truth, he was remembering what sex felt like on a belly full of Chinese food. There was something arousing about the weight and the heavy fullness of his engorged gut, the tightness and gurgling and sloshing, the pull of flesh against the press of partner accompanying their intimacy, that made him want to try it again.

Bryan started the movie and lifted out a slice of pizza. He handed it to Elliott and came back with a glass with ice in it.

“Aren’t you eating?”

“Later, maybe,” Bryan said. He settled back and poured Elliott a glass of pop.

Elliott was hungry and made short work of the first three slices. Bryan kept the pop tantalizingly out of reach, then finally handed it over; of course, Elliott chugged it down. Bryan watched Elliott’s stomach bulge with each swallow. He refilled the empty glass, but put it out of reach again.

Another slice, no problem. Another glass of pop. Elliott’s eyes widened and he belched loudly.

“Wow,” he managed. Bryan smirked again, and poured another glass of pop. Fully half the bottle was gone. It’s surprising how filling pop can be.

Elliott moved over to the coffee table and, leaning in, made a sandwich of two slices and fed it to Bryan, who let himself be fed. He was already stuffed, his gut stretched tight, and he could feel the beginnings of a stomachache. His T-shirt fit like a second skin and he thought it might tear. He ate mechanically. Bryan started to massage his bloated belly, easing the shirt up and gently manipulating his increasingly distended tummy, which now protruded visibly, thrust tautly forward over his overworked waistband. Elliott groaned. His mouth full, he mumbled something.

“What?”

Elliott swallowed. “I said, I’m about to bust out of my jeans.”

“We can fix that.” Bryan set the pizza down and reached for the pants. Where had the snap gone?

“Suck in.”

“You’re kidding,” Elliott puffed.

“Just a little. Come on. Give me something to work with.”

Elliott valiantly sucked in, but nothing moved. Apparently the effort was worth something, because Bryan got the snap undone and wrestled the zipper down. Tugging and wriggling, they managed to get Elliott’s pants off; then Bryan was easing the snug shirt over Elliott’s head.

“Here.” Bryan piled up a couple of pillows. Elliott gratefully lay back, propped up, and Bryan resumed feeding him. Even reclined, Elliott had grown an impressive gut, bloated and gorged with pizza and pop. Incredibly, six slices were gone, and two-thirds of the pop. Bryan massaged Elliott’s belly. Aching and tender, it thrust upward, flesh pulled tight, surface firm. There was no give under Bryan’s gentle fingers; he might have been massaging stone. It felt wonderful, though, and Elliott groaned with combined pleasure and discomfort. He belched, loudly, and felt better.

By now, he noticed with amused detachment, Bryan was having a hard time staying still.

“(Urp) Patience,” he said, laying a hand on Bryan’s thigh. Bryan groaned and took a swallow from the glass of pop before giving it to Elliott, who chugged half of it, then came up for air. Panting, he caught his breath and chugged the rest. He eyed the last two slices, which Bryan had again made into a sandwich.

“Come on,” Bryan coaxed. “It’ll feel so good.”

Elliott took as big a bite as he could manage. By now he was cradling his bloated and heavily swollen midsection with both hands. It was aching and sore, and every shallow breath he took made him feel as though his belly was about to burst. He was stuffed to the brim. His stomach, stretched far beyond capacity, gurgled and groaned audibly; he felt it churn. He tasted crust. Incredibly, the pizza was gone. Had it all gone into his gut? Apparently so. It certainly looked like it. Bryan handed him the bottle; though the remnants of the pop were warm by now, he chugged away, feeling and by now seeing his swollen and bloated gut bulge with each swallow.

“Ohh … hhh … hhh,” he managed, a stuttering groan. His stomach hurt, his sides hurt, his belly ached, everything was distended, tender and sore, he’d never been so full. The last thing he wanted to do was move, no way, if he moved he would pop, or overflow, or both, ow, oof, he was being pulled to his feet. He staggered heavily, thrown off balance by the gravitational pull of his massively engorged gut, sloshing heavily. Bryan steadied him and carefully guided him to the bedroom and eased him onto the bed.

Elliott, eyes closed, felt the bed creak next to him. Then warm hands slick with lotion were massaging his tender, swollen belly and stirring his arousal. A low guttural moan escaped as he let the combination of aching discomfort and the surge of desire sweep over him.

“Honey,” Bryan said, “I’m home.”

Last edited by Risible; 10-21-2007 at 07:27 PM.
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Old 10-21-2007, 07:28 PM   #2
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Another excellent story, Rhonda. Hurray for diversity!
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Old 10-24-2007, 08:53 AM   #3
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... Rhonda? Who dat?
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Old 01-12-2009, 11:32 AM   #4
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That was the hottest story I have read here so far. If only there were images to go with it. Wonderful! Exactly the kind of thing I like to do with my partner. :-)
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Old 03-03-2009, 08:53 PM   #5
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Oh my. I really really enjoyed this one. It was beautiful. As usual, you gave just the right mix of story and action. Loved it, loved it, loved it!
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Old 10-25-2014, 11:32 AM   #6
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Love, love love! This is a perfect helping of boy-boy, belly-stuffin, pooch lovin"!
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