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Old 02-03-2006, 12:35 PM   #1
WG Story Drone
 
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Default Dream Vacation - by Big Beautiful Dreamer (~BBW/~BHM. Dining, ~SWG:)

Both. Dining, WG: From the mailbag - Al found more than he expected on his vacation.

Dream Vacation
By Big Beautiful Dreamer

The first indication that Al Fisher had that this resort was different was when he checked in. Not only did he see enticingly full-figured people everywhere he turned, but the desk clerk greeted him with, “Your first time with us, I see, sir.”

“Yes, how did you know?”

The desk clerk winked. “Oh, you’ll see. Enjoy your stay.”

Waiting for him in the room was not a basket of fruit but a basket of cookies, sweet biscuits, brownies, rich bottled coffee drinks and more. Al was puzzled; he wasn’t a VIP – but, hey, why question it?

He sank into an easy chair, kicked off his shoes and settled in to surf and snack.

Two hours later, he was startled awake by a gentle knock on the door. “Dinner is served, sir. In the main dining hall.”

Al hastily followed the bellhop toward the dining hall. There, he was greeted by the most lavish buffet he’d ever seen. Long tables lined three walls of the room, with trays and chafing dishes heaped with food. All around him, other guests were already enjoying their meals.

Al quickly filled a plate and sat down as directed, at the table with a place card marked with “Mr. Al Fisher.” As he dug in, he greeted the other three at the table, a man and two women. The woman across from him caught his eye and smiled with a sexy wink. “I’m Teresa,” she said huskily.

“I’m Al.”

“First night here?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“This is my first night, this year, but I was here a year ago. It’s great, you’ll love it.”

Conversation rose and fell as Al and Teresa ate and ate. The other two, Jackson and Elizabeth, had been here three times before and advised Al on the most fun activities.

Al lost track of the times he filled his plate. Chicken pan pie, lasagna, tender roast beef, piles of rice pilaf, mashed potatoes, oven roasted potatoes, stuffing, green beans, Brussels sprouts, succotash, sweet potatoes, squash casseroles, and a whole table just for desserts. Nine kinds of pie, coconut cake, German chocolate cake, brownies, cookies the size of plates, fruit tarts and cheesecakes, chocolate-dipped strawberries, apricot tortes.

Al ate steadily, only dimly aware that his swelling stomach was straining the seams of his pants. The waistband of his pants, which had fit only that morning, dug into his distended belly. Finally, surrendering to gravity, he undid the top button, which eased his discomfort only a little.

On his next trip to the buffet, he untucked his shirt, which was straining on the sides and at the buttons.

By the time he turned his attention to the desserts, the buttons of his shirt were being maxed out. As his bloated stomach ballooned outward, stuffed with insane amounts of food, he took a deep breath and felt the two bottom buttons pop off. Teresa caught his eye and winked. She had been keeping up with him plateful for plateful.

Al could not help but notice that while his belly had been swelling, Teresa’s had too. Her shirt now hugged her gorgeously rounded stomach, a round tight ball pushing against the increasingly snug cloth of her blouse. The vee of her top filled enticingly with her cleavage – was her chest getting bigger?

Al was stuffed to bursting. As good as the food was, he was forced to admit that he was full. His swollen and aching belly was packed to capacity, his midriff stretched painfully taut. He was so stuffed he didn’t think he could move. As quickly as the thought materialized, staff members were at their table to help Al, Teresa, Jackson and Elizabeth to their feet. Comfortable chairs on wheels were waiting and the staff eased the guests into them. All around the dining hall, other staff were doing the same.

Al discovered that Teresa’s room was right next to his. He was so full that he could breathe only shallowly but managed to say, “I hope we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

Teresa was nearly asleep; her eyes were drooping, her cheeks flushed. Her shirt was pulled tight over her beautifully rounded belly and chest. “Oh, we will.” She stifled a burp.

The staff member evidently assigned to Al helped him up and gently eased off his shirt, now strained to bursting, and his overworked pants. He helped Al into resort-provided pajamas that were roomier than the ones he had brought. If he hadn’t been so tired, Al might have noticed that all his clothing had been replaced. His last thought before falling asleep was, This is going to be the best vacation ever.

The rest of the week unfolded much like the first day. Breakfast, morning snack, lunch, tea, and dinner. Five times a day, Al and Teresa, Jackson and Elizabeth and the other guests would gather into the dining hall and eat and eat and eat. Al kept getting larger clothes placed in his room, and every evening – dinner was always the biggest meal – Al found himself eating plateful after plateful.

When they weren’t eating, Al and Teresa sat side by side in large cushioned lounge chairs or took dips in the pool, played shuffleboard and bingo, enjoyed concerts, and talked. Both discovered that they preferred large people, and they lived only 10 miles apart outside of Chicago. They both liked jazz and old movies, both had attended the same high school – five years apart.

The last evening of their vacation arrived. Slowly, puffing with exertion, Al and Teresa waddled into the dining hall. Al wore a soft blue buttoned shirt, untucked, and gray pants, both laid out new that morning. Teresa was dressed in a fitted heather blouse and silver sharkskin slacks. The resort was rather like a summer camp in that guests signed up for a specific week, two weeks, or four weeks. Each group arrived and left at the same time, to be replaced by another group. So it was not only Al and Teresa’s last night, but the last night for a lot of the other guests as well. The resort had gone all out. The long tables sagged with plates and bowls, chafing dishes and glass-domed platters.

Together, Al and Teresa moved slowly along the line, heaping their plates. They ate steadily, chatting about football, the jazz scene, and Rita Hayworth. Each was delighted to have found the other and were making plans to continue their relationship back home.

Al’s stomach swelled, seemingly getting rounder and tighter with each mouthful. His shirt buttons strained. He had to undo the button on his pants as his belly bulged outward. Teresa seemed to be growing before his eyes, her stomach a rosy mound under the blouse, which now strained at the seams. Her chest swelled enticingly and her bottom hung over her chair.

After the staff had delivered them back to their rooms and helped them change, Al heard the now-familiar knock. He let Teresa in and they sank into recliners placed side by side. They took turns massaging each other’s swollen and aching bellies. “I’m so (hic!) full,” Al groaned, “you could bounce a quarter off my stomach.”

Teresa grinned. She grabbed a quarter from the pile of change on the dresser. “Lean back,” she said. Catching her excitement, Al did. “Take a deep breath,” Teresa commanded.

“Oh (hic!),” Al grunted. “Too (hic!) full.” He did the best he could and Teresa, straddling him, dropped the quarter straight down like a drill sergeant checking a rookie’s bed-making skills. The quarter bounced off Al’s stomach, stretched tight as a drum and swelling roundly out. Teresa caught it and gave him a slow smile. She stretched out her hand. Grunting with effort, he sat back up.

“Teresa,” Al said, suddenly serious. “I have a question (hic!) for you.”

Teresa sat down beside Al.

“In the last week, I’ve discovered a person who makes me the happiest man alive. I don’t want to lose that. Will you marry me?”

Tears trickled down Teresa’s rosy, rounded cheeks. “Yes, I will!” she sobbed happily. “I never thought I’d find a man who loves me for who I am.”

“I love all of you,” Al said. And he gave her a kiss.

Last edited by Observer; 11-30-2008 at 05:46 PM.
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