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Old 03-23-2016, 04:03 PM   #1
wafflecone
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Default The Monstrosity (BHM, eating, stuffing, food)

The Monstrosity
by wafflecone


To market, to market, to buy a fat hog… Iris nibbled at her thumb nail, trying her best not to stare. But she was at such a perfect angle.

He was sitting at a table for four, but was clearly alone. He had been in the restaurant when she had been seated thirty minutes ago. Iris had glanced at him earlier, at which point a momentary flush of heat ran its course through her body. He was just her type. But she was just coming for lunch, so she didn’t pay him much attention.

At first, anyway. It was hard for her to focus when he was flagging down servers every few minutes, one flabby arm raised. The wait staff seemed to be at his every beck and call. A regular… She squirmed.

This was one of her favorite restaurants. It was known for being relatively cheap, with some of the best food in town, and definitely the best pulled pork you could find within the surrounding several counties. They did real southern barbecue—proper slow cooking and smoking, with thick, sweet sauce. And half their menu was deep fried. They did fish, too, and even their salads were fantastic. Her friends claimed the burgers must have been sanctified by a great prophet they were so good, and she didn’t doubt it, though she had never tried one. And even though it wasn’t really their thing, their pastas and pot pies were great, too. Their dessert selection was expansive and satisfied every possible taste. Honestly, it was a wonderful mish-mash kind of joint. And while she liked to come for the food, she couldn’t deny that fellow patrons like the young man eating at the next table made her meals much more… exciting.

While she had spent ten minutes poring over the menu and trying to make a decision, he had been chowing down. There were three entrees in front of him, complete with sides: the four-patty bacon burger (which the menu stated was two pounds of beef), complete with gloriously melted cheese, lettuce, crispy fried onions, and gobs of their homemade sauce (a combination of mayonnaise and their signature barbecue sauce). It came with a large side of fries, which he covered in a generous amount of ketchup. The next entrée was a pot pie (she was unable to tell if it was chicken or beef from this distance, but it looked heavenly either way) that looked big enough that if she ordered it herself and ate it all at once she would be stranded at the restaurant for an extra half hour trying to digest. That came with mashed potatoes and lots of extra gravy. Then there was a huge plate piled high with pulled pork and several small buns, so that the customer would be able to make their own sliders. And it looked like he’d asked for extra buns. He’d gotten a salad with that. To drink he had gotten what looked like their biggest malt, and a soda in the same size.

By the time her food had arrived, he had gotten through two of the entrees and ordered more as he began to work on the third. Iris sipped at her water and worked her way through her brisket and mac and cheese very slowly. She didn’t have anywhere she needed to be, and she was getting the show of a lifetime.

She paid more attention as he began to build his sliders. He slathered the buns with extra barbecue sauce and the mayo-barbecue mix, then piled the pulled pork on with his fork until it seemed he would hardly be able to hold the slider together. Somehow, though, his deft, plump fingers would easily ferry each sandwich to his waiting mouth. He’d finish each slider in three bites, cheeks bulging. He would take a long sip of soda, stifle a belch (his hand would often flutter to the top of his belly when he did that, which just about had her swooning), and then start on the next one. Twelve sliders disappeared into his gut, which hung heavily between his thighs. Thick thighs that she was sure were butter-soft beneath the jeans he was wearing.

He leaned back in his chair and a server came by to refill his soda and clear away the plates he had practically licked clean. He spoke to them for a time, and the server nodded and walked away. He rubbed at his gut, half-discreetly, but clearly so full he didn’t particularly care if anyone noticed. His stomach had swollen outward several inches. His button-up shirt was still rather loose (Iris could tell he was no stranger to this kind of gorging—he had planned ahead. She liked that.), but the buttons definitely looked under more pressure than when he had first begun his meal. He seemed to be groaning softly, but she was too far to hear for sure.

She took another few bites of her mac and cheese.

The server returned with a plate of pasta that was heaped so high that Iris realized it was approximately two orders in one. And a single order of pasta here made Olive Garden’s portions seem snack-sized. I didn’t even know they would give you a double order, she thought breathlessly. The new object of Iris’ lust grinned at the server and thanked them, then sat up, his movements heavy and a bit sluggish. He let out a loud belch that he couldn’t quite stifle in time. It was mostly lost in the din of the lunch rush. Iris had to look away as she tried to calm her blushing.

He dumped huge amounts of cheese onto the pasta—the servers had provided several small bowls of freshly grated cheese for him. When he began twirling the pasta onto his fork and lifting it towards his mouth, it looked as gooey as Iris felt. He ate each bite as if it was the apex of every food he had ever had. The look of bliss on his face as he shoveled hundred-calorie bites of pasta, alfredo sauce, chicken, and cheese between his lips was like nothing Iris had ever witnessed before. And there were dozens of those bites. He ate slowly, with short breaks for sips of his soda. By the time his plate was empty and he was scraping up the last stray bits of cheese and sauce, Iris estimated that he had consumed around 2,500 calories just in that one dish. She about hyperventilated as she realized she could look up the calorie counts of what he had eat online—they were in a state that required that the information be made publicly available. The burger was 3,200 calories. The pot pie was a little over 2,000. The pulled pork order looked like it had been doubled, which meant it was around 1,500 calories. With the soda and the shake, he had almost definitely gorged his way into eating 10,000 calories.

He sat in the chair for a bit, clearly needing some time to let his stomach settle. Iris ordered a small ice cream sundae for dessert—just one scoop in a small cup, with a little chocolate sauce, crushed nuts, and a cherry on top. She honestly didn’t even want it, but she needed an excuse to stay. She ate extremely slowly. His server came and cleared away the pasta and his soda glass. He shut his eyes for a moment and breathed, his gloriously round, heavy belly rising and falling with each breath.

And then they brought it out.

It took two servers to carry it out on a tray.

Iris had never actually seen anyone attempt to eat it alone. People usually got it as a dessert for groups of six people or more. She’d had it, and it was absolutely delicious. But far too much food for one person.

Iris recalled that if you could finish it by yourself, your entire order was free.

She felt like she was going to faint with pleasure.

They called it the Monstrosity. It was a gargantuan ice cream sundae. Approximately a gallon’s worth of various ice creams, covered in hot chocolate fudge, nuts, whipped cream, maraschino cherries, bananas, bits of Oreo, chocolate chips, thick ribbons of caramel syrup, brownies (not even brownie bits—whole brownies), chocolate chip cookies, cookie dough, sprinkles, and so many other sweet things that it honestly looked like something straight out of Candy Land.

Other people in the restaurant turned to look. Eyebrows were raised. The eating machine that Iris had been ogling looked ready, despite also looking like if he walked away now he’d be full for the next two days.

As soon as the sundae was set down, he began to dig in. The spoon he was using was enormous. He started at the bottom. Iris could imagine what he was feeling: the warmth in his belly after his three hot entrees; the cool ice cream on his lips and then moving into his belly. The expansion all that cream was going to cause. Iris was halfway ready to see him packing on the pounds as he ate.

The mountain of ice cream and toppings slowly diminished. He slowed down about a third of the way through. He was breathing heavily. Iris was now openly staring. Each bite seemed like the best combination of pleasure and the agony of a too-heavily gorged belly. Another bite. Another. He took a few moments to lift up his belly and unbutton his pants. His shirt buttons had actually begun to look stressed. And still he ate. And ate. Scoop after scoop of ice cream down his gullet, his eyes glazing over as he devoured ice cream-soaked brownies, cookies, donut holes, and hot fudge.

Eventually, it had almost entirely melted. Everything left in the dish the Monstrosity had arrived in was either liquid or so soggy with ice cream it might as well have been. He lifted the dish to his lips and drank it down—a good fifteen seconds of long, deep gulps, as if the dregs of his dessert were ambrosia gifted to him by Bacchus.

And he finished it. Licked his soft, plump lips. His server arrived to congratulate him. Iris approximated the calories: the Monstrosity had to be well over 5,000.

So he had, all within about two hours, eaten around 14,000 calories. Or, as Iris knew, enough calories to put at least four pounds of fat on his butterfat body. And he seemed quite proud. He signed his check and set down a thirty dollar tip. So that’s why they pay him so much attention.

He was stranded there for a while. Leaning far back in his chair, eyes closed, far too full to move. Iris took that as her cue to leave. She got up and went to her car, breathless, and trying to restrain herself from coming to this restaurant every day for the rest of her life just to ensure she never missed watching one of his displays again.


Continued in post #4
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Old 03-24-2016, 10:31 AM   #2
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What a charming eatery short story!

Then again, any story in which Bacchus is around dispensing ambrosia has won me over.....
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Old 03-25-2016, 04:07 PM   #3
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That was extremely hot!
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Old 03-26-2016, 12:37 PM   #4
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((Author’s note: Thank you for the kind comments! Also, there is a bunch of workout/gym jargon coming up here. Apologies to anyone who that makes uncomfortable! I promise, it’s all a means to a very food- and belly-centric end, and no one is going to be coming out of this story any thinner.))

Part 2

It’s a well-known phenomenon that the weight area of the average gym is a very intimidating place. Iris had experienced the anxious conflict between wanting to finish a workout and the fear of being judged by heavily muscled, sweaty men in muscle tees hogging all the machines many times. She was no gym rat, but exercise made her feel good, and most weeks she hit the gym three or four times. Gym rituals were familiar to her.

Especially the discomfort of the weight area. She had started going to her last gym because it boasted what had, at the time, seemed like the best possible gym experience. It had an enormous lap pool, excellent wi-fi, massage chairs, every workout machine known to mankind, and dozens of classes available on any given day. The first few weeks, Iris had finally gotten to take a Zumba class for the first time. She popped into the intermediate yoga class several times, too, and loved the spin classes. Iris would happily crank out her cardio alongside dozens of other women, her workout playlist piping through her headphones.

But she couldn’t seem to make it into the weight training area. Every time she walked in, she was the only woman. While no one seemed to be outright glaring at her, none of them seemed particularly happy she was there. They seemed to take longer on the machines, forcing her to either wait obscenely long times or finally give up and return to doing cardio. No matter what time she showed up, she ran into the same attitudes, the same gatekeeping. It didn’t take her much longer to find another gym.

And here she was. She had toured this new gym, Apex, before joining. It was much simpler than her last one, and clearly heavily geared toward very intense fitness types. Lots of body builders, lots of athletes. She wasn’t sure it was entirely right for her, but she loved how integrated all of the strength training areas were. It felt like a place where she could come in, do her whole workout, and head out. Easy. Focused. No extra frills or distractions.

But the nervousness remained. She was on the elliptical, heart pounding, pushing hard, trying to fight off her fear. She knew it would be okay, but… what if it wasn’t?

She forced herself off the elliptical and picked up her water bottle with an index card dangling off of it with her routine for the day. Today was arms. She walked straight to the machine that she needed, intending to begin with triceps. She searched for the attachment she needed, and as she did her eyes landed on… him. The guy she had watched eat enough food to incapacitate a table of people. Benching 200 pounds. Almost twice her bodyweight. For eight reps. Iris watched, mesmerized, as his cheeks reddened with each rep. His shirt had ridden up along his belly, and she could hardly contain her pleasure at the ripples and jiggles going through him. He finished and sat up, shirt slipping back down and belly nestling between his spread thighs. Iris immediately found the grip she needed at attached it to the nearest cable, setting up the amount of weight she wanted and trying not to regret her gym choices.

She hadn’t seen her new favorite fat boy since she had watched him gorge himself on enough ice cream to satisfy a large family. And now here he was, at the gym of all places. She could never have imagined that under all that plush would be someone who came to a no-frills gym, seemingly regularly. He exchanged familiar-looking hellos with other gym-goers and seemed quite comfortable, and massively strong. While she was working with the dumbbells, she watched him working on leg presses. Four hundred pounds of leg presses. Again, his face was reddening. He was sweating. (She tried not to imagine the taste of salty workout kisses and failed.) And yet, he was doing it. Kicking ass on every machine, at every exercise, despite being one of the largest people in the entire gym. He looked like he was pushing himself hard and loving every second of it. Iris was deeply intrigued.

While she was working on her ab workouts, allowing her arms to rest between sets, she lost him. She got up to finish the last part of her arm workout—lat pull-downs. She heard a throat clear behind her and turned. It was him. He smiled at her and gestured towards the machine. “Your form is a little off.” His voice was soft, but each word was enunciated perfectly, like he was taking his time with each one.

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Do you mind if I—?”

“No, no, go right ahead.”

She tried not to squeak as his hands (all pudge on the surface, all strength beneath) shifted her arms and shoulders, directed her posture. The light brushes of his fingers against her skin gave her goosebumps.

“Try that.” It was all she could do not to shiver. She tried to focus on counting reps and not on the fact that she wished she had worn more than a sports bra and a flimsy workout top. She wondered if he found her appealing. She wondered if he was helping her because she was new and wanted to help, or if he had noticed her. Oh my god, what if he saw me staring earlier? She refocused on reps. Five. Six. Seven. What if he recognizes me from the restaurant? Iris barely finished counting to twelve.

“How did that feel?”

“Much better. I could feel it a lot more significantly in the places where I was meant to.”

He pointed towards a mirror on the wall. “Okay, so look at your form right now. See how your back is positioned?” He gently touched her back. She was hyper-aware of how damp and sweaty she was. There was no way he felt any attraction to her in this state. And yet… his fingers seemed to linger a bit on her bare shoulders. “And your arms are right at that angle? You want it to look just like this every time.” She nodded, turned around, smiled at him. God, he was so cute. Soft black hair, a bit long—like if he were just a bit thinner he’d be on the cover of GQ sometime soon.

“Thank you for your help.” She turned a bit and extended a slightly sweaty palm. “Iris James. It’s great to meet you.”

He smiled, sincere and perhaps a bit playful. “Sam Yamautchi. It’s good to see a new face here. Feel free to ask anyone for help if you need it. We’re a little family here. No form goes uncorrected.” Iris nodded. He has a name! She was fluttery inside. They were only inches apart and she could feel the warmth of his body radiating. She was dying to bury her face in his doughy stomach, wondering how far she could go before hitting what she had to assume were some rock hard abs somewhere in there.

Before she could get too dreamy, she cleared her throat and smiled a bit. “Well, I better get back to it. I have to finish up this set.”

“Of course. I’m just finishing up. I’m sure I’ll see you around, though. Nice meeting you, Iris.”

He got onto the treadmill directly behind her. And since she had a mirror right in front of her, she got to spend her last few reps watching Sam bounce and jiggle in ways so tantalizing she was disappointed she hadn’t brought a spare pair of underwear with her.

///

Sam watched her walk towards the stationary bikes. The way her fitted Lululemon pants hugged her generous and noticeably firm backside was setting off all kinds of positive signals. She looked gorgeous in them, first of all, and they hid absolutely nothing. But he was most interested in the fact fact that they were a pricey brand; it showed that she had some level of dedication to her gym time.

He sped up the treadmill and increased the incline. Twenty more minutes of cardio to go. He pushed himself. Anyone watching would have been astonished by the way he somehow managed to keep going when he looked as soft as he did. He was finishing up his second mile seventeen minutes in. Not marathon-winning speed, sure, but he wasn’t here for that. He was here for bulk. For testing his mettle with weights and seeing how much stronger and bigger he could make himself. He was here for a challenge.

He thought of Iris and smirked to himself. He had a feeling Iris would not be much of a challenge. If he was right, she was the girl from the restaurant. She looked a little different without makeup and with her hair tied back, but he was pretty sure it was her. Now, Sam had had his fair share of stares while he ate meals. Usually they were unkind—people assuming they knew something about him, about why he was eating, about how he spent his life, looking on with disgust. But some stares were admiring. No one had ever seemed quite so enamored as Iris had been, though. Sam had somehow never managed to lock eyes with her during his meal at the diner, but he had felt her eyes on him from the moment she’d sat down. It had made the meal all the more thrilling. His belly rounding out as he satisfied all his cravings from the past few months, the glorious heaviness of it all, and someone beautiful practically salivating over watching him enjoy himself? It had been a dream.

He finished his cardio and climbed off the treadmill. He was ready to go home, fix himself a protein shake, and take a long, hot shower while he planned out what he was going to have for dinner.

///

Iris slowly became a well-recognized face at Apex. She could greet people by name and it had become a comfortable place for her. It was nice to have found a gym that suited her.

It was, apparently, a gym that suited Sam even better. He came every evening. Iris almost couldn’t believe it, but no matter what day she came, if she arrived after 6 PM, Sam was guaranteed to be there, pumping iron. She was amazed, a bit confused, and more than a little dismayed. He didn’t seem to be losing any of his softness, but wasn’t that why people went to the gym? Especially people who spent multiple hours there every day? Of course, it was his body. But a little part of her felt like it was a bit of a waste to have a man with an appetite like Sam’s burning off thousands of calories a day in a gym.

They had more little encounters as he helped her correct her form. She asked him for advice on building workout regimens, and he had lots of good ideas. He asked what her goals were and she would shrug and say she was mostly in it for a good jolt of endorphins. He liked that answer. The workouts he suggested for her were tough, but never wholly outside of her abilities. And she liked trying what he suggested. This was something he clearly knew a vast amount about. They would often stand outside the doors to the locker rooms, discussing their progress and how they were feeling. Iris noted after a time that he never talked about his weight or a desire to become more trim. She hoped she wasn’t just imagining it.

One evening, she finally got up the chutzpah to actually ask him out. It was about three months after she had joined Apex, and she was nervous but ready. He looked as plush as he had on that first day at the diner, and in the time that they had known each other, he had become a friend. She was jogging on the treadmill while he walked past her, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel as he headed to the locker rooms. She waved her arm and smiled at him. He noticed, then turned and walked towards her with an expectant look. She felt a little queasy but it was time to take the plunge. While still jogging, she asked, “What are you doing on Saturday?” The jogging hid the fact that her breathlessness was caused entirely by her nervousness. He looked faintly surprised at the question, and then his face broke into a grin.

“Saturday is my cheat day.” Iris tried not to let her eyes widen. Was that what was happening when he was at the diner? “I was planning on a day in.”

“Well… would you mind making it a day out? With me?” She bit her lip.

“So long as we can go where there’s food, and lots of it. I haven’t had a cheat day in months and I don’t think I could bear to put it off another day.” He had a twinkle in his eye as he said this. Iris felt, as she had many times, that he knew more about her than he would ever say.

“Where did you have in mind?”

“I wanted to start off at Éclair’s. I’ve been fighting a donut craving for so long. Do you want to meet up there?”

Iris could hardly contain herself. “That sounds great. We can meet at 10.”

“I was thinking 8. It’s early, but I had big plans for the day.” There was that twinkle again, paired with a knowing grin. Iris tried not to read too much into it. If she did, she might collapse with delight.

“Eight, then. Bright and early. I’ll see you there.” Sam headed to the locker room and Iris continued jogging, running with a feeling like she had just won a big, fat prize.
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Old 03-28-2016, 04:36 AM   #5
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Ooops - this was a bit of a surprise!

Since the first post had all the makings of a perfect short story, I assumend it was one, despite the missing 'The End'.
But since many writers here don't do that, it's sometimes a bit of guess work for us as moderators whether we're looking at a first installment or a completed short story.
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Old 03-28-2016, 06:09 AM   #6
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Undine knows EXACTLY what's going onUndine knows EXACTLY what's going onUndine knows EXACTLY what's going onUndine knows EXACTLY what's going onUndine knows EXACTLY what's going onUndine knows EXACTLY what's going onUndine knows EXACTLY what's going on
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While the first part definitely could have been a lovely short story on its own, I'm very glad you're continuing with this. I personally find the gym environment totally intimidating, but strong fat guys kinda make me swoon. So thumbs up for Sam!

(Also thumbs up for naming him Sam, because there's an established history of hot chubby guys with that name.)
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Old 03-28-2016, 07:55 PM   #7
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Agreed to all the above

(And lolz at sam)
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Old 03-29-2016, 08:35 PM   #8
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Wow. I, too, thought the first chapter was a complete story in itself. I am thrilled to find it's only the beginning.

And I'm even more thrilled with the gym setting of the second chapter, and learning more about Sam. It will be fun to follow a man who is so dedicated to improving his body, and so aware of his surroundings that he noticed Iris.

Looking forward to the next instalment!
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Old 05-21-2016, 01:17 AM   #9
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Part 3

It was difficult not to seem wildly overeager as she got out of her car in the parking lot of of a donut place she’d driven past a dozen times but never actually been inside of. She looked around, but saw no sign of Sam. She hoped she was at the right place. Google maps had told her there was another place called Eclairs on the other side of town.

There was a sound of a car door opening. She turned toward it and realized there was a behemoth of a pickup truck on the other side of the parking lot, so large she honestly hasn’t noticed it. It was shiny, new, and incredible clean. He waved at her and tucked his phone into his pocket before climbing down. It was hard to tell at this distance, but she had a feeling the truck’s tires were almost as tall as her hips.

They walked towards each other, smiling a bit awkwardly in greeting. “So, is this the best donut shop in town?”
“Probably the best in the state, honestly. Prices aren’t bad, either.”

Iris wondered absently how much of his soft belly had been gained in the search for this place. Quite a few, she figured, since she’d driven past 6 different donut shops just on her way here. The tip of her tongue darted out and swiped her bottom lip as she tried to keep her composure.

They walked in, and Iris marveled at the amount of choices. This place’s specialty was definitely donuts, but they seemed to have a few fancier pastries as well, including some of their namesake eclairs, some looking ripe with cream, others plump with custard. It felt like a wonderland. Everything smelled glorious. Iris could practically feel her hips widening and thighs thickening just staring at various goodies. She walked up and down along the glass cases, struggling to decide which pastry to try. It took Sam’s hand on her shoulder as she bent to look down at some thrillingly syrupy-looking apple fritters to get her to come back to earth.

“I picked out all the best ones. I’m not sure what you have a taste for, but I made a few good guesses.” In his hands was an enormous pink box, of a size generally reserved for large cakes from Costco. “Let’s go sit.”

He guided her to one of the few tables in the bakery. They sat across from each other. He pulled napkins out of the dispenser on the edge of the table and handed her one and set the other in front of himself. There wasn’t much room on the table with the huge pink box of donuts in the center of it. He opened it and they both looked inside. It was packed. There had to be three dozen donuts inside. Sam examined them for a moment, then used a napkin to pull out a glazed donut, setting it down gently on the napkin in front of Iris. “Figured we should both start with a classic. Every donut place can be judged by their glazed donuts.”

Iris nodded, lifting her donut to her lips as he picked out a particularly sticky-looking glazed donut for himself and bit into it. He gave a little moan of pleasure. Iris tried not to shift in her seat. She took her time with her donut. After a slow first bite, he seemed to get through his in a matter of seconds. He pulled out a second - an old fashioned donut with chocolate frosting. By the time she finished her glazed, he was scoping out a third and grabbed a crueller. She fished a cake donut with sprinkles out.

They chatted as they munched. They talked about how they’d come to the city. Iris had moved a few years ago for work. Sam had grown up in the cities- his grandparents had come in the sixties, and his parents had never seen any reason to leave. He pulled out his phone and showed her a few photos. His father was tall, thin, seemingly always laughing. His mother was softer, and looked much more reserved. He had three siblings (two brothers, one older than him, one younger, and a younger sister). Iris noted that most of his siblings were thin, or on the smaller side of average. The whole family seemed very close. It was nice to know.

After he finished showing her some photos of the last trip his family had taken to Japan to visit relatives, he asked her about her own family. There wasn’t much to tell. By this point, half the box of donuts was gone. She’d only had three. And he was listening to her raptly, hoovering up donuts as she talked. “I have one sister, Annie. She and my parents are back in Massachusetts.”


He swallowed a mouthful of an enormous apple fritter. “Oh, Massachusetts? Like, Boston area, or - ?”

“Closer to the Berkshires, actually.”

He nodded knowingly, then cracked a smile. “I know nothing about the East Coast, so I actually have no clue where that is.”

She laughed. “It’s okay. I thought San Francisco and L.A. were a couple hours away from each other before I moved out here. I mean, you look at maps of the country and you see how big California is, but you don’t realize how big it is until you decide to play tourist and drive up the coast.”

They went back and forth, sharing backgrounds and jobs. “I’m an English professor at the university.”
“Really? What’s your specialty?”

She blushed a little, but maintained her composure. “I have a lot of interests, but I’ve published mostly on modern American lit. Specifically, like, the representations of food and bodies and how they’ve changed, especially over the last century?” Uptalk creeped into her voice at the end.

“Of course,” he said. “Considering.”

Feeling flirty after watching him take one of the last dozen donuts, she asked suggestively, “Considering what?”

“You’re not the first girl I’ve run into who has a thing for this.” He gave his belly a small jiggle.

“So you noticed.” She struggled a bit to keep her composure as she watched his belly settle heavily in his lap.

“You’re terrible at hiding it.” He took a gleeful bite of a pink-frosted donut. “Your first day at the gym... it was pretty clear.” He cleared his throat. “And, uh… the actual first day. At the restaurant.”

Iris’ hands clapped over her mouth and she turned beet red. “Oh my god. Oh my god I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. It was cute.” He grabbed one of the last six donuts. “I like having an audience.”

Iris had to take a few moments to do some discrete deep breathing, but after he’d gone through another three donuts, she was satisfied with the idea that he wasn’t completely repulsed by her and actually liked her company.

A few minutes later, he finished up the donuts and sat back for a minute. His hand traced the crest of his belly. While he did look very full after finishing enough donuts to sedate a small office, it was clear to Iris that he hadn’t even gotten close to his capacity yet. Iris glanced at her phone and saw that it was only 8:45. Her toes curled at the thought of how many more meals were left in the day.

Sam pushed back from the table. “Ready?” Iris nodded and they stood. They both got into his truck and chatted about the quality of the donuts, and Sam recommended a half dozen varieties for her to try that she hadn’t gotten a chance to that morning.

Somehow, the conversation turned to favorite movies. They discovered that they both loved documentaries. Iris was a sucker for historical documentaries. Sam was really deeply interested in more socially-focused documentaries. “I actually decided to become a lawyer because of documentaries. There was so much injustice in the world. I mean, less than 75 years ago I would’ve been getting shoved into an internment camp along with the rest of my family. We didn’t have enough people advocating for us then. I wanna try and be a voice for people who might not otherwise be heard.”

They talked about cases he’d worked on as they drove. He was deeply knowledgeable, throwing out vocabulary that Iris didn’t even recognize from TV shows. WIth each bit of legalese, though, he took the time to explain it a bit further in layman’s terms, usually with such ease that Iris was reminded that he probably had to do a lot of explaining like this for his clients and, sometimes, their translators.

After around thirty minutes of driving around, he pulled into the parking lot of a diner called Corinna’s. It looked properly diner-y, and just busy enough for that time of the morning. From the outside, it looked bright and clean. “So… is this second breakfast?”

Sam laughed. Iris bit her lip. He looked absolutely adorable, and the laugh brought out his double chin. “Second breakfast? Those donuts were just a morning snack. This is just gonna be breakfast.” Iris’ toes curled in her shoes, thinking about the fact that he considered that enormous box of donuts no more than a snack. Of course, she knew some of it was bravado--she’d seen how full he was when he finished his last donut--but after what she’d seen at the restaurant and the fact that everyone seemed to know him and what he wanted as soon as he walked into any place that sold food… Iris wasn’t sure she’d make it through the entire day without spontaneously combusting.
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Old 05-21-2016, 08:44 PM   #10
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Wow. Thanks for this great addition to the story. Sam seems quite the BHM hero!
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Old 10-11-2016, 05:21 AM   #11
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I have to ask - any more additions for this story?
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Old 10-14-2016, 03:27 PM   #12
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Great story!
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Old 11-01-2016, 11:33 AM   #13
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I haven't gotten a chance to write more about these two because of school kicking my butt and some other feedist stories I've been working on, but I'm hoping to come back to these two soon. Maybe over the holidays.
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Old 11-14-2016, 09:34 PM   #14
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Great story so far, thanks for sharing.
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Old 01-23-2017, 11:52 PM   #15
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Part 4

Corinna’s was everything a breakfast joint should be. The hostess, May, greeted Sam warmly and was excited to see he’d brought someone with him. “He always comes alone and it’s just not right for such a handsome man to have to eat alone.” May winked at Iris as she set down the menus on their table. Sam loved watching a flush creep into her cheeks. “Make sure he paces himself, sugar. He went too fast a few weeks back and only made it halfway through his meal.” Sam could see the gears of Iris’ imagination whirring. He could only guess that she was treating herself to images of him stranded in his seat, beached by his own appetite. “And order something nice for yourself. You’re so teeny he’s gonna make you fall right on your behind when you try and help him up.”

The hostess left both of them looking at each other shyly. “Do…” Iris paused and cleared her throat. “Do you really need help up after a meal here?”

Sam looked at her with a smirk that had her melting in her seat. “You’ll just have to see, won’t you?”

“Such a tease.”

“There’s more where that came from.” He covered his mouth with his hand as he suppressed a belch. “Excuse me. I may have overdone it at Eclair’s. Not gonna stop me from trying to go all-out here, though.” He flipped through his menu quickly. He had it memorized and was only looking through to finalize his breakfast choices. Iris took her time. She was too jittery to eat much and wound up only ordering cut fruit and a glass of water. The waitress then turned to Sam, looking ready to write a novel-sized order down. Sam glanced over at Iris. She looked beautiful and so eager and expectant that he was certain his order was going to make her fall off her chair. He was ready to see the dazzled look on her face he’d seen the first day she’d watched him eat.

He rattled off his lengthy order, which was about half the menu. He watched Iris’ chest rising and falling faster with each item. When he saw her bite her lip as he ordered a shake--“extra thick”--he could feel himself getting hungrier. His belly emitted a gurgle right then, signifying that it was making room for his feast. He smiled at Iris and then thanked the waitress. Once she left with their menus, Sam leaned back in his chair, sighing happily with his hands laced together behind his head. “God, I love cheat day.” His gut growled again.

Iris breathed the words “me too” in a barely audible whisper. Her cut fruit was delivered to their table soon after and she took nibbles here and there, composing herself.

Sam took this moment of quiet to ask her about her work. “What’s the most recent article you’ve published?”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh! It’s actually really interesting. To me, anyway. I wanted to talk about the proliferation of works that emphasize scarcity of resources, particularly in post-apocalyptic works and comment on the social climate that champions these sorts of works and how they feed into each other. I focused a lot on The Walking Dead comics and other zombie fiction because the hunger of the protagonists is often so well-mirrored by the hunger of the undead around them.” She continued on as the waitress returned and set down Sam’s meals.

He was halfway through his second plate when he swallowed and paused. “So, you think that so-called ‘diet culture’ is what makes post-apocalyptic fiction so popular?”

“I do. A culture built around deprivation needs ways to validate itself and its participants. Narratives about hunger being part of surviving in an unforgiving environment are really validating when you’re depriving yourself on a consistent basis. The post-apocalyptic genre is a more extreme version of what many people already live with and worry about already. The zombie subgenre is interesting in that it provides a critique of the attitude that always being hungry makes you better somehow. Purposefully or not, the concept of being perpetually hungry is linked with being a mindless zombie.” Sam ate a particularly large mouthful of pancake and Iris stuttered. “Th-that’s what I wrote, anyway.”

He swallowed. “I like it. I’ll have to keep all this in mind next time I watch Doomsday Preppers.” Iris smiled shyly and ate a bit more of her fruit. “Do you want to try any of this? I’m happy to share a few bites.”

Iris shifted in her seat. She was considering something. Her big brown eyes fluttered and she looked quietly confident. “If I don’t see every bite of what you ordered make it’s way into your mouth, I’ll be very disappointed.” She paused for another moment, weighing her words. “If I eat any of it, it’ll make it harder for me to estimate your calorie intake. I may be an English professor, but those kinds of numbers give me all sorts of good feelings.”

Now it was Sam’s turn to feel shy and out of sorts. He could feel blood rushing to inconvenient places. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering what she might like to do with him once he couldn’t eat another bite. He’d known girls like her before. One liked sitting on his lap, lifting his belly off his thighs so they could feel it resting on top of their own thighs. Another liked to have him lie on his back while she straddled his gut. That had been somewhat painful, but watching her pleasure herself against his dome-like stomach had made it mostly worth it. The way Iris was looking at him, he was sure she’d definitely considered both of these scenarios and many more. He was dying to know exactly what she was planning.

But he couldn’t dwell. For all that he was dying to spirit her out of the restaurant and toss her into the spacious backseat of his truck for some fun, he also wanted to take full advantage of his cheat day. Her reaction as he took another bite and then told her “I’ll give you record-breaking numbers to ponder over” assured him he’d made the right choice.

///

The rest of the day passed in a food-packed blur. Between meals he’d drive around and show her areas she hadn’t seen before and let things digest. By the time dinner was done, he was sure he’d burst. Iris couldn't take her eyes off of him. His appetite was like nothing she’d ever seen. He’d been eating and drinking almost non-stop since they had met for morning donuts and his stomach had expanded into a rock-hard ball of food and blubber that seemed almost twice its original size.

As they walked to his truck, he was a little wobbly. He was food drunk, of course, with most of the blood in his body diverted to his digestive system. But he’d also gotten tipsy on a few spiked chocolate shakes. Iris felt herself getting warmer every time he belched, which was about every forty seconds. “Sam?”

“Yes?” He hiccuped and grinned salaciously at her.

“I think I should drive.”

“But the truck’s too *hic* big.” He rubbed a hand over his midsection. “And you don’t know where I *hic* live, gorgeous.”

Iris blushed. “I can get directions. You’re too drunk.”

Sam paused and leaned his face in close to hers. “Mmm. This is why I do cheat days at home.” He hiccuped again and groaned. “But you’re right. I may be drunk and too full to walk, but I’m not *hic* dumb.” He fumbled for his keys and handed them to her. “Here. Address is 1668 Bintel Street. It’s big and old. You’ll like it.”

She helped him into the passenger seat and then climbed up into the driver’s seat. She had to use the front tire as a stepladder because it was so high up. She got everything adjusted so she could drive and then headed toward his home.

///

Sam hadn’t been inaccurate when he called the house big and old. It was an old Victorian that, as far as Iris could tell in the dark, looked to be in excellent condition. She pulled up into the driveway and marveled at the size of it before getting out to walk Sam to the front door.

On his front steps, he thanked her for coming. “I know it’s a weird first date. But I enjoyed myself.” He put a big hand on her lower back. “And I’ve enjoyed you.”

She took a step forward, her chin tilting upward. “It was exactly my brand of weird.” She stood up on tip-toes and pressed her lips to his. His arms wrapped around her as he pulled her in closer. The kiss felt like a jolt along their lips. Iris grabbed at his love handles without thinking, moaning as softness filled her hands. His hands moved lower down to her thighs and he lifted her up. She was light, but the pressure of her against his full stomach was almost too much.

“Are you coming inside?” He asked between hungry kisses.

She couldn’t even get words out. Just a long moan and emphatic nodding.

“Good girl,” he said, smiling into their kiss as he took the keys from her and deftly unlocked his front door.
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