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Old 05-29-2011, 11:54 PM   #1
Join Date: Nov 2010
Posts: 61
lurksville can now change their title
Default Paul - by lurksville (~BHM, ~SWG, ~Gay, Erotica)

~BHM, ~SWG, ~Gay, Erotica, College romance

By lurksville

Paul took another bite of his chocolate cake, licking his lips to get a wayward piece of icing into his mouth. Opening up a book up, he propped it up near his tray. With any luck, he figured he'd be able to get a good portion of reading done before his next class.

About three pages into the history of Catalan his fork hit plastic instead of soft baked goods. He glanced over at the plate and saw that only crumbs remained.

Damn, he thought. And there were twenty more minutes left before he needed to go.

The smells of the dining hall continued to call to him, like they had been since his first month of college. It was both exciting and frightening to have so much food available to him, in unlimited quantities, nearly fifteen hours a day. He'd been overdoing it, he knew, but self-control when it came to eating had never been his strong point.

He stood up from his chair, ignoring the way his pants were starting to cut into his overfull stomach. He'd had several pieces of pizza that afternoon already, as well as french fries, macaroni and cheese, chicken nuggets, a donut, and that piece of cake. But with so much time left to kill, he couldn't help going back for just one more desert.

He ended up with three large chocolate chip cookies and a piece of key lime pie, resettling in his seat after tugging uselessly at the waistband of his khakis. The little potbelly he'd sported upon arriving at school had definitely been growing, and deep down he knew the situation was starting to get out of hand. But at the moment he chose to ignore it—to ignore the way his stomach was making soft folds when he sat, ignore the way his thighs were spreading out further along the chair. As long as he didn't think about it, he could just go on pretending that it wasn't happening.

By the last cookie his stomach was really starting to hurt, though he wasn't sure if it was because he was full or because of the tightness of his pants. He shifted in his seat, trying to relieve the pressure, and suddenly heard a terrifying sound. With a ping the button of his pants flew off, hitting the metal bar under the table. Even worse, his zipper immediately gave in to the pressure of his belly, opening up and allowing his stomach to spill into his lap.

"No way!" A table away, a muscular jock pointed at him, breaking into peals of laughter. "That fat little freshman just busted his pants!"

More laughter ensued, from the guy to the right of him, as well as from the tiny blond cheerleader-type draped on one of his arms. Only one person at the table wasn't laughing, but he was staring with such shock and apparent disgust that his face was somehow even worse than all the other mocking grins.

Paul's cheeks turned crimson, and he felt frantically for the flaps of his pants so he could hold them up as he stood. His fingers sank into soft flesh before he managed to achieve the feat.

"Freshman fifteen, huh," his tormentor sang out. "Better watch it, tubby, or you'll just keep busting out of your clothes. Just because the food is all-you-can-eat doesn't mean you're actually supposed to eat it all."

Paul's vision blurred as he ran to the bathroom, locking himself in a stall. He stood in the corner, panting, out of breath, and so embarrassed he couldn't stop the tears from falling. He wanted to sink down onto the floor into a little ball, but his disgust at being in a men's toilet kept him from doing so.

Why had he eaten so much? Why hadn't he watched his weight, like his mother had told him? Still clutching at his pants, he could feel just how jelly-like his stomach had become. What had he done?

The door to the bathroom swung open, and loud footsteps rushed in. Paul quickly stifled his crying, holding in the sobs.

"Hey, are you in here?" a voice called out quietly.

Frightened, Paul shrank back against the wall.

"I know you are, I saw you come in. Listen, I'm not here to bother you. I just want to help."

A tiny whimper escaped, and though Paul immediately clamped a hand over his mouth, whoever-it-was that was after him clearly heard it.

The guy knocked on his stall. "Hey, there you are. I've got something to help, okay?"

"Please, g-go away!" Paul cried, too humiliated to face anyone. He stared down at his pants, having no clue what he was going to do get them to stay up properly so he could make it to class.

A hand appeared under the stall door, palm open, holding a few safety pins. "See? I swear, I just want to help."

Paul quickly weighed his options—and it didn't appear he had very many. Tentatively, he reached down to grasp the pins, only to have them be snapped out of reach.

"It'll be faster if I help you. C'mon, let me in."

"N-no . . . I don't . . . I don't want anyone to s-see . . ."

"I'm not going to make fun of you."

Paul leaned back and hit his head against the tile wall. He needed the pins, but he still felt far too raw to expose himself to anyone. Yet something about the guy's voice sounded gentle and genuine, and he'd almost decided to open the door when he heard a flurry of movement.

His would-be helper had stepped up on the sink and was now peering down at him from above. Paul's heartbeat instantly picked up speed, because he quickly recognized the face as one of the jocks from the crowd that had been mocking him. This particular tormentor was tall; probably around 6'2", and he had dark, wavy hair and a broad chest.

Paul started to cry again. "L-leave me alone! Go away! W-why can't you find something better to do than pick on me?"

The jock pulled himself up over the edge and jumped down into the stall. "Just calm down. I'm not picking on you."

Trying to make himself as small as possible, Paul squeezed himself into a corner. "St-stop! D-don't come any closer!"

"Shh," the invader whispered. "Let's see the pants, okay? We can fix them up so you can go . . . and you left your stuff out there, you know."

Paul remained perfectly still, except for the trembling that came from crying.

"I'm so sorry they laughed at you. It's gonna be okay, though, all right? I promise. Don't let them get to you."

Paul knit his brows together. He couldn't understand why this stranger was being so kind to him, and the most prominent theory running through his head was that it was all the build up to some kind of cruel joke.

"I'm James, by the way. What's your name?" James reached out and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Uh . . . P-Paul," Paul stuttered, despite his fear that even that small omission was a huge mistake.

"Okay, Paul. Now let me look at the pants, okay?"

Paul shook his head. "I . . . I'll fix them. I don't n-need . . ."

But James was already reaching out to him, bending over to take a look at the damage. "Yup, ripped the button clear off."

Cringing, Paul brought a hand to his stomach, trying to cover any part that might have been exposed.

James chuckled. "You're gonna have to move your hand, you know, or I won't be able to get the pins in."

Gently but firmly, he took Paul's hand and pushed it aside, then lifted up his t-shirt.

Paul inhaled sharply, trying to suck in his stomach. Looking down, he was mortified to see what little effect the action had. There simply was too much of him to suck in. He squeezed his eyes shut in painful embarrassment, waiting for more torture to ensue.

His heart nearly stopped when he felt James grabbing his lowest, softest roll—the one currently preventing his pant flaps from meeting. James ran his fingers over it, almost caressing it, and Paul trembled, which only caused the pink flesh to jiggle in James' hand.

"Aw, you poor thing. You're getting chubby so fast, aren't you?" James said, his voice almost a whisper. He traced a faint stretch mark with his thumb.

"I . . . I . . ." Paul began, trying to pull away. James stopped him with his other arm, wrapping it around Paul's thickened waist.

"It's all right. It must be hard for you, with so much good food around. You don't have to feel bad about it."

Confused, Paul stared up at him. He couldn't quite figure out if he was being chided for letting himself go, or consoled. Either way, it just didn't seem like James was trying to hurt his feelings. He finally managed to get his crying under control.

James placed his hand flat against Paul's plump belly. "Okay, you're gonna need to suck in now."

Obediently, Paul did, although he had been trying to do so the entire time. James got a little more slack and managed to put the safety pin in where the button had been, leaving a small space between the two flaps.

"Lemme put one more in just to make it more secure," he added before placing the second one about a quarter of an inch away. "You can let your stomach out now, but you should exhale slowly. And be careful when you sit."

He gave Paul's tummy one last pat before pulling his t-shirt down. "See? All better. No one'll notice a thing."

Now that the immediate problem had been taken care of, Paul could feel his cheeks begin to color with a furious blush. He'd just let an incredibly good-looking guy feel his disgusting, flabby body, and he really had no idea why.

"Why . . . why are you being so nice to me?" he asked.

James smiled at him softly, then reached past him to grab a handful of toilet paper. "Here, dry your eyes. Billy and Josh—the guys that were bothering you—they should be gone by now."

The door to the bathroom suddenly swung open, and James put a finger up to Paul's lips, signaling quiet. They stood close together, waiting for the interloper to do his business and leave. Paul could feel his soft stomach pressing up against James' toned abs and his cheeks flamed even redder.

"Okay, he's gone." James said, still standing close. He seemed almost reluctant to pull back. "I gotta go, too. You take care, okay?"

Paul blinked, eyes wide as saucers as he stared up at his rescuer. He could feel wild emotions surfacing, telling him in no uncertain terms that he was suddenly and quite unreasonably enamored with the person standing before him.

"Th-thank you," he whispered.

James smiled one last time before he turned and left.

Last edited by Lou Grant; 05-31-2011 at 05:24 PM.
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Old 05-30-2011, 12:08 AM   #2
Join Date: Nov 2010
Posts: 61
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Default pt. 2

For the fifth time that month, Paul dreamt of James. He dreamt of those strong hands wrapping themselves around him, gently massaging his poor, abused stomach. He dreamt of James' sweet smile as he whispered to him, "It's gonna be okay, I promise."

But he always woke up, and always alone. Today was no exception, and he dragged himself out of bed as quietly as he could, trying not to wake his roommate. The gnawing hunger that seemed to be ever-constant these days set in, and before he'd even fully opened his eyes he was grabbing for a bag of mini chocolate chip muffins.

The sweet morsels dissolved all too quickly in his mouth, and soon he was struggling into a pair of jeans. He started to sweat when he realized just how much tighter they felt than when he'd first gotten them, right after the embarrassing cafeteria incident. He'd been forced to go up a size then, but now it appeared he would be outgrowing these fairly soon, too.

Fearfully, he glanced in the mirror. His face did look slightly rounder, his arms a little softer . . . and it was clear that annoying belly was sticking out even further than before. Heart pounding, he grabbed for another bag of muffins, stuffing each one into his mouth without pausing, hoping the delicious distraction would give him some kind of relief.

It did, but as soon as the bag was empty the dark thoughts cropped up once again. He grabbed a handful of his fat, shaking it and biting his lip, a blush lighting up his cheeks. Even if, by some strange miracle, James did like boys, there was no way on earth he'd ever be interested in someone like him.

Paul grabbed one more bag of muffins on his way out the door.


"Hey, Paul!" Reese, his roommate, greeted him as he joined him for lunch that afternoon. "Let's go grab our food."

Paul didn't tell him he'd already been there for twenty minutes, hurriedly chowing down on two hamburgers and a plate of fries, knowing he'd have to eat more sedately when Reese showed up. This time around, he only selected one hamburger, chocolate milk, and a piece of apple pie.

Reese had thick black-rimmed glasses, and he pushed them up along his nose repeatedly as he ate, nibbling like a little rabbit at a few chicken tenders. No wonder the kid was so small.

"Melinda's really pretty, isn't she? And she's awful nice." Reese said.

"Melinda from the Highland dorm?"

"Yeah." Reese fiddled with his glasses. "Too bad she's taller than me, huh? If you were taller, I'd tell you to go for it . . . but I guess both us shorties are stuck in the same boat."

Paul glared down at his empty plate. Yeah, he was short, but unfortunately that probably wasn't the first thing people would notice about him.

Reese began nipping at his third chicken tender, and Paul sighed. He'd been finished with all his food for about five minutes now, and if he'd been alone, he probably would have gone back up for thirds. He couldn't quite decide if befriending his roommate was to his advantage or not. At the moment, his stomach was telling him it was a disadvantage. It was really begging for one more piece of that pie.

"Well, we'd better get to class," Reese pointed out, pushing aside his tray and leaving half a chicken tender uneaten on his plate.

How does he do that? Paul wondered.

He and Reese walked out together, and Paul turned his head one last time to stare wistfully at the pretty pieces of pie, all lined up and awaiting consumption. By the time he looked straight ahead again, it was too late, and he bumped directly into a tall, hard body.

He glanced up and saw dark, wavy hair. "J-james?"

Paul hadn't seen him since that first encounter, over a month ago, and it seemed to him that James appeared even more handsome than before, his smooth hair glowing under the fluorescent lights.

"Hey, it's the freshman who busted his pants!" someone shouted. Paul shifted his eyes and quickly saw that James was flanked by the two jerks who had belittled him before--Josh and Billy--though he didn't know which one was which.

"Oh shit, he got even fatter, didn't he!"

Reese pushed his glasses firmly up his nose. "Excuse me, who do you think you are to talk to him like that?"

Too mortified to even notice Reese standing up for him, Paul continued to gape at James.

"No one's talking to you, Peewee," Josh or Billy said.

"C'mon, Paul, you don't have to take this." Reese tugged at his arm.

But Paul remained frozen, still staring at James.

James had told him not to let the rude remarks get to him. James had told him not to feel badly about putting on weight. James had been nice to him. Why wasn't he saying anything now?

"You know being a student here includes a gym membership, right tubby?" the more muscled jock said. He elbowed James in the ribs, chuckling proudly like he'd just come up with a world-class insult.

And then James laughed. "Huh. Yeah."

Tears instantly sprang to Paul's eyes--all of his stupid, useless dreams dashed in that instant, seeing his hero, his crush, laughing at him just as cruelly as everyone else.

"Come on, Paul!" Reese insisted, and this time he managed to drag him away.

Once outside, Paul found a water fountain and splashed cold water on his face, his hands still trembling from the encounter.

"Are you okay?" Reese asked worriedly. "Those guys were assholes. Just because they're older than us or whatever they think they can treat us like crap . . ."

"I'm fine." Paul interrupted him.

Reese looked at his watch nervously. "Well, all right. I have to go to class now or I'll be late. I'll see you back at the dorm later, okay?"

Paul nodded, his head in a thick fog.

As soon as Reese left him, he headed straight for the convenience store on campus, loading up bag after bag with practically all the food he could lay his chubby hands on.


His stomach hurt. Still, he kept eating, tears spilling down his round cheeks as he pushed each bit of food into his mouth.

How could he ever have thought James was a nice person? Why had he been so stupid as to actually fall for him after one five-minute encounter? James was a jerk, just like all the rest of them. Maybe he'd felt sorry for Paul the first time, but now that he'd seen him blow up even more it was clear he thought Paul was nothing more than a fat slob-- someone who deserved to be made fun of.

Paul tore open his third bag of Oreos and continued to stuff them into his mouth, two or three at a time. The crying was making it hard to swallow, but he fought against it, trying to keep the food coming in a constant stream.

Why should he care anymore? It didn't matter if he got huge--no one liked him at this weight and he just couldn't bring himself to stop eating all the delicious food college life had to offer, especially not when he was as emotional as this. His hand found its way to his stomach, feeling the hard, bloated ball underneath the softer layers of fat.

Disgusting, he thought, and ate another cookie.

Keys jangled at the door, and Paul quickly pulled the blanket over the evidence of his binge, drying his eyes at the same time.

Reese stepped in a moment later. "Hey, Paul. I checked out a movie from the library, maybe we could--"

He stopped short when he saw Paul's red-rimmed eyes. "You're not still upset about this afternoon, are you? I told you, those guys were--"

"Were right." Paul cut in bitterly. "They were right. I am . . . I am f-f-"

He couldn't bring himself to say the word out loud, for some reason.

Reese peered around the room, looking uncomfortable. "All right, so you're a little uh, you know, larger. But so what? I see girls dating larger guys all the time. And really, that's all that matters, right? Who cares what they say?"

Paul burst into tears again.

"Um . . . did I say something wrong?" Reese asked, nervously touching his glasses.

"I don't . . . I don't want to date a girl!" Paul sobbed.

"Well, no one said you have to be dating right n- . . . ohhhhh." Reese cut himself off, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Right. Uh, I get it."

Paul sniffled, wiping his nose on his comforter. "I'm s-sorry. Please . . . please don't hate me . . . you're the only friend I have."

"I don't hate you." Reese took a step forward, looking rather indignant. "I'm a very open-minded person. Now my advice is to quit feeling sorry for yourself and forget about those assholes."

Longing to grab a cookie from under the blanket, Paul chewed on his lip. "B-but . . . one of them . . . one of them was nice to me the other day, and I . . . I thought . . . maybe if I didn't look like this, he m-might have . . ."

"Forget about him." Reese said firmly. "You want someone who'll like you for you, right?"

Paul didn't respond. Who would like him for him?

"Come on. Let's get out, get some fresh air, and grab some ice cream down at the Baskin Robbins. Sound like a plan?"

Unbelievably, Paul heard his stomach growl hungrily. He shifted out of the bed, careful to keep all the food wrappers hidden. "Um, yeah, okay."

"Cool. I'm gonna run to the restroom, and then we'll go, 'kay?"

As soon as Reese left the room, Paul turned around and grabbed five more cookies. At least those tasty treats never let him down.


Last edited by Lou Grant; 05-31-2011 at 03:22 AM.
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Old 05-30-2011, 12:14 AM   #3
Join Date: Nov 2010
Posts: 61
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Default pt. 3

Paul headed home from the convenience store that Sunday afternoon with four tubs of Ben and Jerry's. He would have gotten more, but there wasn't enough space to keep them in the dorm room's tiny freezer. He figured it would be better just to get what he could eat in one sitting, and then return to the store later when he needed more.

Now, though, he was feeling less keen on the plan, since the walk seemed much longer than it used to. He blamed the unusually hot fall day for how winded he felt, even though he knew his body probably had something to do with it as well. His stomach hung heavily in front of him, distended from near-constant binging over the past few days. The plump flesh had jiggled free to lap over the top of his too-small pants, and he had to keep pulling on his t-shirt to prevent that pesky bottom roll from peeking out.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps crunching on the sidewalk, coming towards him with alarming speed.

"Paul! Hey, Paul!"

Paul looked over his shoulder to see James headed his way, frantically waving an arm in the air. "Paul!"

Terrified, Paul forced his tired body into action, trying to maneuver away as fast as he could. It was a lost cause, however, because within seconds he knew there was absolutely no way he'd be anywhere near fast enough.

"Paul, wait! I just wanna talk!"

Paul realized he hadn't tried to run in quite some time, and moving quickly with the recently accumulated weight was an entirely new sensation. Bits of his body wobbled to and fro at different speeds than his feet, making him lose balance and breath quite rapidly. Within a minute he had to stop, doubling over and resting his hands on his knees while he gasped for air.

"Are you all right?" James asked, easily catching up to him.

"Go . . ." he had to stop for breath as he spoke. "Go . . . away. Leave . . . me . . . alone."

"You need to sit down," James ordered, maneuvering him by his shoulders onto a sidewalk bench. "You want some water? I have some in my bag."

Paul shook his head, still trying to suck in enough air to stop his lungs from hurting. "Just . . . go . . . away! Why . . . are you . . . bothering me?"

"I wanted to talk to you. I didn't know your last name or what dorm you were in, so I've just been hanging around, hoping to see you somewhere."

Paul looked around desperately, as if he thought he was going to see some kind of escape. None was apparent, however, and if his only hope was to run for it . . . then he had no hope. "Please stop. I know I'm an easy target, but please . . . I just want to be left alone."

James looked down at the ground, kicking some dirt. "I don't blame you for being mad. I was a real jerk the other day. I just wanted to apologize."

"A-apologize?" Paul blinked in bewilderment.

"Yeah . . . Billy and Josh . . . I know they're assholes. I'm so sorry I let them pick on you like that."

Paul's face burned. "But you . . . you agreed with them."

"No! I swear, I really didn't. I just sorta said what people would expect me to say. I know it's stupid--it's just hard when I'm around the guys, you know? Anyways, I've been pissed at myself all weekend for letting you down like that."

"L-letting me down? We barely know each other."

James nudged Paul's shoulder with that same soft smile Paul remembered seeing when they'd first met. "I'd sorta like to change that."

"Um . . . why?"

"Hey, freshmen need friends too, right?" James chuckled. "Oh, shoot," he added, suddenly looking concerned, "your ice cream's melting."

Paul's heart sank as he looked at his bag, sitting on the sidewalk beside his feet. The ice cream was indeed dripping out the sides of two of the containers.

"You can eat it now, if you want."

Another blush hit Paul's cheeks. He couldn't sit and eat four tubs of melting ice cream in public, and certainly not in front of James. And what if that was what James wanted, as part of some sinister joke? Maybe Billy and Josh would jump out of the bushes as soon as he put the first creamy spoonful in is mouth.

Creamy. His mouth watered.

"Or we could go back to your dorm."

"M-my dorm? Why would we go there?"

"I dunno. To talk, get to know each other better."

Paul glanced sadly at his ruined ice cream, then over at James. He was as handsome as ever, his wavy hair blowing slightly in the breeze. "You're . . . you're not doing this just to mess with me, are you?"

"No. I'm really not a jerk like those guys. Let me prove it to you."

Frightened but too curious to refuse, Paul stood, gathering his bag. "O-okay. But I guess I should toss this ice cream."

"If you like. I'll definitely replace it, since it was my fault."

Reluctantly, Paul threw away the now-soggy cartons. "Um, that's okay. I don't need any more ice cream."

James shrugged, standing to follow. "Whatever you say."


"I forgot how small these freshman dorms are," James said, sitting on his bed. Paul stood in a corner, feeling miserable that he hadn't had an opportunity to hide the many boxes of snack cakes that lined his desk shelves.

"You're . . . you're a senior, right?" he said, just to keep the conversation going.

"Yup. Almost out of this place. Time for me to start thinking about my future, I guess."

Paul nodded, then looked down shyly, unsure of what to say next.

"Sit down, Paul." James patted the spot next to him. "Tell me about yourself."

"Um . . ." Paul sat, furiously sucking in his stomach. Sitting on the bed made his constrictive pants even more uncomfortable. "You already know I'm a freshman. I'm thinking of studying to be a journalist. And I always thought it would be really neat to be a food critic."

Oh great, Paul thought after he had spoken. He had to go and bring up food, like it wasn't already obvious that it was constantly on his mind.

"Yeah, that would be cool," James agreed.

Just then, a loud growl erupted from Paul's stomach, which evidently also took issue with the discussion of food.

He blushed, looking down sheepishly. "Um . . . I . . . I skipped lunch." He hadn't, of course, but he figured white lies never hurt anyone.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry . . . and you didn't get your ice cream. Well, it's almost dinner time . . . we should order a pizza."

Within a second James was flipping open his cell phone, where it appeared he had the local pizza place on speed dial. He ordered an extra large with sausage, pepperoni, and extra cheese.

"They'll probably take like half an hour to get here," he said when he was through. "Why don't you have a little snack to tide you over?"

Paul's stomach growled again. "Th-that's okay, I'll wait."

"Suit yourself. What would you like to do, then?"

"Um . . . we could watch a movie."

"Sounds good." James nodded. "Whatever you like is fine."

Paul shifted out of the bed to grab a DVD, yanking his pants up as he went in the hopes they'd settle in a somewhat less painful spot when he sat down again.

He happened to find Independence Day first, and quickly popped it in the player that went with Reese's TV. James didn't say much as the movie began, but a few minutes in, he casually stretched out his leg along the bed so that his knee bumped into Paul's. Thinking it was unintentional, Paul tried to wiggle away, only to see James stretch out a little farther to touch him again.

"Good choice, gotta love this movie." James said, reaching out and giving his thigh a little squeeze.

Immediate happy shivers ran up and down Paul's body. He really liked when James touched him. He'd even liked it in that tiny bathroom stall, even though James had been touching the most embarrassing part of his body. It was just nice to feel human hands on him that were not his own, no matter where those hands happened to be.

As time went on it seemed less and less likely that James had any devious intentions. Despite his misgivings, Paul began to relax, and was fully enjoying the movie and the proximity to James' strong, warm body by the time the pizza arrived.

The smell of warm cheese made Paul's stomach audible again, and his calm was mostly shattered. Could he handle eating in front of James? One thing was for sure; he had to limit himself.

"Dig in, you must be starving," James said.

Okay, Paul told himself. Just one piece. Better make it last.

He took the smallest bites possible, trying to emulate Reese's little nibbles. Sadly, the pizza wasn't nearly as fulfilling that way, and it seemed to be gone within a matter of mere minutes anyhow.

He swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the aliens blowing up yet another building and not the growling of his stomach.

James watched him out of the corner of his eye. A minute later, he leaned forward, grabbing another piece of pizza and depositing it in Paul's hands. "Eat." He smiled. "Relax."

Paul ate this second slice faster, letting the warm tomato sauce, cheese, and soft dough fill up his mouth.

As soon as he was done, he bit his lip, dying for just one more piece. Two slices wasn't nearly enough when it came to pizza. Still, James had only had one slice, so he knew he had to try and ignore the rest of the pizza that sat enticingly in front of him.

That task was easier said than done. It was such a tease to have the food so close, but be unable to reach out to it. His eyes continually wandered over to partially eaten pie, and he began to memorize the location of every topping just from staring with such intensity.

At one point he looked up and realized he'd missed a good portion of the movie while lost in pizza-thought, and he berated himself for his inattention. What was wrong with him? Here he was, sitting next to this great person who actually seemed nice enough to want to befriend him, and all he could think about was eating more pizza.

James reached over to tousle his hair. "Have some more. It's not like I want to take any leftovers home."

Paul shook his head. "I . . . I really sh-"

"You skipped lunch, remember? It's okay to have some more."

Paul found it terribly difficult to argue with that logic (even though it was based on a lie), and his already-weakened resolve was soon broken. As they watched the humans head towards victory, he finally gave in, letting his hand wander repeatedly towards the box, filling his chubby cheeks with greasy goodness. James smiled and inched in a little closer so that their shoulders were touching, and in between bites Paul sighed in contentment. He knew that so long as he didn't stop to think too hard about it, this was as close to a perfect afternoon as he'd had since coming to college. Delicious food, a fun movie, and an oh-so-hot senior by his side. Who could ask for more?

The closing credits started when Paul reached into the box one last time and found it completely empty. The happy, fulfilled feeling he'd had just a moment earlier immediately disappeared. How could he have made such a pig out of himself in front of James?

Worse yet, he realized the pressure on his stomach was growing unbearable.

He squirmed around on the bed, torn between sucking in to avoid the pain of the waistband and exhaling to avoid the pain caused by sucking in. It was quite a dilemma.

A second later, James reached over with amazing speed to unbutton his pants and release his zipper. Paul's stomach instantly plopped out, complete with an angry red mark where the restrictive clothes had been.

"Wouldn't want you to pop a button again," James teased.

Paul closed his eyes, still in shock while also feeling immense physical relief now that the pressure was off his stomach. Blood rushed to his face and his ears as his embarrassment sank in. "Please . . . please don't tell me you went through all this trouble just to make fun of me."

"Of course not! I wasn't making fun of you. I was just trying to make you more comfortable."

Paul shook his head, still not understanding. He covered his exposed fat with a chubby arm, beginning to grow teary-eyed. "Why . . . why did you come here, then? W-what do you want with me?"

James looked at him curiously for a moment. Then he leaned in, placing his hand very lightly on the top of Paul's protruding belly. "For starters, I'd like to do this," he said before swooping in for a kiss.

The sound of keys at the door interrupted him, and James jumped out of the bed just as Reese walked in.

"Hey Pau- oh, you have company."

"Oh, I was just leaving," James said. Paul still sat frozen and dazed, though he managed to yank some blanket into his lap so Reese wouldn't see his wide-open pants. "But lemme get your number, Paul, so we can hang out again."

Paul blinked.

"You do have a cell, don't you?"


"So, can I get your number?"

When Paul still didn't move, James carried a pen and a sticky note from his desk over to him, and Paul obediently wrote down his number.

"Great, see ya later. Nice meeting you, uh, Paul's roommate."

"Right," Reese said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

As soon as he was gone, Reese turned to Paul with a confused look. "Um, wasn't that one of the guys who was pestering us the other day?"

Paul nodded. "He . . . he came to apologize."

"It sorta seemed like he was doing more than apologizing."

"Um," Paul scratched at his head. "Yeah. I think . . . maybe he um, likes me? I mean, like, likes likes me. I don't know why he would, though."

"You're a nice guy, Paul." Reese told him. "If he likes you, that's uh . . . really great."

Really great. That was an understatement. Tall, handsome, senior James had just kissed him. Kissed him!

For a moment he felt light as air, until his hand brushed against his stomach, making it wobble. He glanced down at the mound, covered by his blanket, and frowned. He was definitely not light as air.

"Reese . . . um, if . . . if you wanted to keep someone interested in you, to like, um, start dating them or whatever, what would you do?"

Reese removed his glasses and breathed on them, swiping off the condensation with the corner of his shirt. "Aw, gee, I dunno. Give 'em compliments, I guess . . . try and do nice things for them . . . try to look nice for them . . ."

Try to look nice. Under the blanket, Paul poked at his stomach, his finger sinking into the jiggling flesh. He obviously had some work to do in that department.

"Well, anyways, if he likes you, you shouldn't have to try all that hard. Remember, you want him to like you for you," Reese went on, but Paul wasn't really listening. "Okay, gonna go take a shower, see you in a bit."

Paul heaved himself out of bed once Reese was gone, shedding his pants in favor of more comfortable sweats. He deliberately avoided the mirror as he did so.

He knew if he looked, he'd just tear himself up inside, wondering how on earth James could possibly like someone like him. And at the moment, all he wanted to do was munch on some Little Debbie cupcakes and dream of that kiss, over and over again, until he fell into a fitful sleep.


Last edited by Lou Grant; 05-31-2011 at 11:12 AM.
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Old 05-30-2011, 02:26 PM   #4
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this story is amazing! Hope to see more soon!
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Old 05-30-2011, 02:55 PM   #5
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Originally Posted by Sugarkitten7 View Post
this story is amazing! Hope to see more soon!
Thank you, pt 3 popped up before your post just a few min ago- would not go through last night
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Old 05-30-2011, 04:18 PM   #6
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Originally Posted by lurksville View Post
Thank you, pt 3 popped up before your post just a few min ago- would not go through last night
Just for your reference, as a new poster your more lengthy posts are likely to be held in moderation until one of the moderators can look it over and approve it. So that part three you thought did not go through was just sitting in moderation with the other part threes you posted. I approved the original and deleted the duplicates. As time permits I will edit and format.
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Old 05-30-2011, 05:08 PM   #7
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Originally Posted by Lou Grant View Post
Just for your reference, as a new poster your more lengthy posts are likely to be held in moderation until one of the moderators can look it over and approve it. So that part three you thought did not go through was just sitting in moderation with the other part threes you posted. I approved the original and deleted the duplicates. As time permits I will edit and format.
apologies. I kept getting a white error screen so I didn't realize. Thanks.
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Old 05-30-2011, 05:13 PM   #8
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Default pt. 4

I owe you some ice cream, the text from James read. Meet me in the parking lot behind your dorm at 2.

Paul had read it over at least fifteen times since receiving it, early that Saturday morning. He hadn't heard from James all week, and was on the verge on writing him off as some kind of freak accident when the message came.

Now he was frantically digging through his closet, tossing shirts and pants left and right in an attempt to find something that didn't make him look so positively . . . plump. Slightly chubby for most of his life, this transition into an even heavier state had left his wardrobe in a pathetic state. Even his larger pants were now struggling to contain his girth.

He ended up with a fairly new pair of khakis and a plain black t-shirt, hoping it would be slimming. By the time he was finished dressing and fixing his stick-straight blond hair, it was already five past two.

He raced down the stairs and realized that was a stupid decision the moment he came to a stop on the sidewalk, miserably out of breath.

Oh great, he thought. Go ahead and show off how out-of-shape you are.

He spun his head around to search the parking lot, and suddenly realized he had no idea what kind of car James drove.

As if in answer, a white SUV rolled down its driver-side window a quarter of the way. "Psst, Paul, over here."

Paul climbed in, tugging at the end of his t-shirt so it didn't hug the curve of his stomach quite so snuggly. He hated the way that sitting made his belly fold into several rolls when he leaned even the slightest bit forward.

"Hey," James said, smiling his soft smile. "How was your week?"

"Um, g-good. I didn't . . . I didn't really think I'd hear from you."

"I said I wanted to be friends, didn't I?" James retorted, looking offended. "And I did promise to replace the ice cream."

Friends? Maybe James had a different definition of friendship than he did. Was it possible he'd read far too much into their very brief kiss?

"So, um, is that where we're going now? To the store?"

"Nah," James chuckled. "That's no fun. We're going out for ice cream."

Happy butterflies spread through Paul's body. They were enough to cause him to forget the way the car's movement made his stomach bounce and jiggle, until he caught James staring at him. Chagrined, he self-consciously curved his hands around his middle and tried to control the wobbling from then on.

They drove for a good fifteen minutes, to a Baskin Robbins across town. Paul wondered why James and chosen to go so far when there was one near campus, but was too nervous to actually say anything about it.

"Okay, now get whatever you want, okay? It's on me," James said as he parked the car.

Sounding more and more like a date, Paul thought, so happy he continued to be speechless.

They walked inside together and found the shop mostly empty, save for one man with a daughter licking an ice cream cone nearly as large as she was. The attendant behind the counter was a rather overweight teenage girl, and Paul instantly felt more relaxed, as he always did around heavier people. He didn't have to live in fear of being made fun of when he was around 'his own kind.'

Surveying the flavors offered, his eyes grew wide and his mouth watered. He absentmindedly brought a hand to his stomach and began to pat it in anticipation. What to get? Mint chocolate chip? Cookie dough? Waffle cone? Sprinkle covered waffle cone? Ice cream shake?

"Know what you want yet?" James asked from over his shoulder.

"Just one more sec, it all looks so good," Paul shot back without thinking.

A hand brushed his side lightly and James leaned in to whisper in his ear. "You're adorable when you're hungry, you know."

Paul froze, a blush hitting him at full force. Why was James always saying such strange things? Was he mocking him, or did he truly mean it?

"Why don't you tell me what things you're deciding between?"

"Um," Paul stared down at his toes, which he could only just barely see nowadays. "I . . . I like waffle cones, but I also really like the ice cream shakes. Especially the peanut butter one."

"So get both," James rattled off immediately.

Despite the kind smile, Paul was starting to lean towards the notion that James really was trying to make him uncomfortable. He turned to the cashier and mumbled his order: three scoops of cookie dough in a waffle cone.

James ordered a single scoop of chocolate in a cup and together they found a table in the corner of the store.

They were silent for a good four or five spoonfuls, until James reached under the table to gently squeeze his knee. "You seem really nervous. This your first date ever or something?"

Ignoring the slight dig in the comment, Paul latched on to much more exciting information. "D-date? So this is really a date?"

James laughed. "Well, isn't it? I mean, I did kiss you the last time we were together, or did you forget?"

"I'll never forget," Paul whispered, then filled his mouth with ice cream to keep it from saying anything else so pathetic-sounding.

When he'd recovered from the brain freeze, he tentatively took a stab at filling the silence with more coherent thoughts. "Have you . . . have you been with, um, many guys?"

"Not too many," James shook his head. "A few here and there. What about you?"

Paul shook his head. "N-no. No one."

James leaned over the table with a spoonful of his chocolate ice cream, offering it to Paul, who obediently opened his mouth and swallowed it. "Maybe we'll get a chance to change that, then."

If it were possible to choke on ice cream, Paul would have. As it was he spluttered little chocolate droplets down the front of his shirt, where they of course got stuck at the upper curve of his belly.

Before Paul had a chance to react, James grabbed a napkin and dabbed the mess away, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh and lingering a little longer than necessary. "Good thing you're wearing black-- it won't show at all."

Feeling destined to embarrass himself over and over again in James' presence, the only thing Paul could do was finish off his cone as quickly as possible. James leaned in on his elbows, smiling at him as he ate.

The door to the shop jangled when it opened, and couple of high schoolers wandered in just as Paul finished off his last bite.

James' shifted back abruptly. "Well, we should probably get going."

Paul nodded, wishing he'd been able to carry on a better conversation. The date felt like it was ending far too soon, and he couldn't help but think he'd done something wrong.

As they stood to leave one of the high schoolers took a table by them, holding a large peanut butter ice cream shake, complete with whip cream and a cherry. Paul was instantly distracted, his mouth watering. He loved those shakes, and now he was kicking himself for choosing the cone instead.

James held the door open for him. "You're still hungry, aren't you."

"W-what?" Paul snapped his eyes away from the decadent dessert.

"Wait here," James ordered, leaving Paul standing on the sidewalk outside the store.

He reentered the store and emerged a few minutes later with a shake of his own. "Here you go."

Paul felt a smile spreading on his face as soon as the ice-cold drink was placed in his hands. He took a sip, letting the rich, creamy flavors play on his tongue. Exactly what he'd wanted.

But then he caught sight of his reflection in the glass windows, with his expanded stomach that could no longer be sucked in far enough make him look anything other than flat-out tubby.

And here James was, bringing him more food. Didn't he know that would only make matters worse? How could he possibly like him the way he was?

He paused at the door to James' SUV, feeling slightly sick. James walked around to the passenger side and dropped an arm over his shoulder. "Everything okay? You like it, don't you?"

"Y-yes." Paul looked down at the now-melting whip cream. "It's just . . . it's just . . ." He closed his eyes. Why should he go and stir up trouble? Still, he had to know. "Do you . . . do you really like me?"

James grinned. "Yeah, I like you Paul. Do you like me?"

"O-of course I do. B-but . . . d-doesn't it bother you that I'm . . . that I'm . . ."

"A freshman?" James asked, his lips curled in a cocky smile.

"N-no . . . I meant--"

"Look," James interrupted him. "I know we don't know each other all that well, but from what I do know, I like. You're sweet, a little shy . . . you've got goals in life . . ."

Frustrated, Paul nearly crushed his shake cup in his hand. "But what about--"

"Your bubble butt?" James' hand fell from his shoulder to his backside, where he gave one cheek a hearty pinch. "I happen to like that, too."

Paul frantically swiveled around to see the area in question, eyes wide in disbelief. How had he failed to notice his rear end expanding along with the rest of him?

But maybe he'd lucked out with that bit--he'd heard of guys who liked rounder butts.

James opened his car door for him, pinning him against it before he could step inside. "Ah, ah, ah, gotta pay the toll first." He looked around quickly at the empty parking lot, then leaned down for a quick kiss. "Mm, peanut butter and chocolate," he said as he pulled away.

Delirious with joy, Paul finished off his shake on the way home and received one last kiss before James said goodbye and drove off.


"I meant to ask you," Reese said, pulling his usual five chicken tenders from the dining hall buffet, "how'd that date thing go?"

"Good." Paul smiled, feeling warm all over just thinking of James. They wandered past the desserts, and in his haze of pleasure he added a fourth cookie to his stack.

"That's good to hear. He's over there, by the way."

Eyes snapping up, he caught sight of James standing by the Mexican food section.

"Oh, hi, James!" His feet started forward of their own accord as he bubbled over with excitement.

But when James looked up, he shook his head, darting his eyes quickly from side to side. A second later, he was surrounded by a thick crowd of friends--thin, attractive friends, who hustled him off to a table.

He never once looked back.

"Hey." Reese joined Paul now that he'd poured himself a glass of sprite. "Where'd the guy go?"

"He . . . he was busy," Paul muttered, his face red.

Of course he was busy. Busy being cool and good-looking and physically fit like all the rest of his friends. He didn't have time for tubby freshman when they were around.

Reese or no Reese, Paul knew he'd be going back for seconds that afternoon.


He went home after lunch, feeling bloated from consuming two heaping plates of onion rings in addition to his first helping of food. He peeled off his clothes, haunted as always by his reflection.

God, he was getting so big. He had no idea how much he weighed anymore, and was far too cowardly to find out. But every part of him--including his butt--was obviously covered in inches of wobbly fat. No wonder James hadn't said hello to him. He'd never be able to fit in with James' friends looking like this.

But if he looked different . . . if he lost at least some of the chub, would he have a chance? He thought back to James' sweet smile and soft lips, feeling his body tingle with excitement just from the memory.

Maybe if he could stop eating quite so much, he could manage to slim down to a more acceptable size . . . to a size where James wouldn't be embarrassed by him. Maybe then he'd get to see James' smile much more often.

Sure, that was it. He just had to try harder not to stuff his face. How hard could it be?

He gave his stomach a violent slap, sending it into jiggling waves.

Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow I'm gonna start to lose weight.


Last edited by Lou Grant; 05-31-2011 at 11:18 AM.
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Old 05-30-2011, 10:16 PM   #9
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Originally Posted by lurksville View Post
Thank you, pt 3 popped up before your post just a few min ago- would not go through last night
well just read the third and its awesome! i love where this story is going. and the detail! )
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Old 05-31-2011, 05:08 AM   #10
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Wow. Just ... WOW. Awesome story, good writing, well-paced plot development, and well-depicted characters. I especially like how with just a half sentence here and there you capture James, making him seem as real, as sympathetic and as conflicted as Paul.

This is terrific!! I hope to see more soon.
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Old 05-31-2011, 03:55 PM   #11
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Originally Posted by Sugarkitten7 View Post
well just read the third and its awesome! i love where this story is going. and the detail! )
Thanks. Another part snuck in again before your last post

Originally Posted by Big Beautiful Dreamer View Post
Wow. Just ... WOW. Awesome story, good writing, well-paced plot development, and well-depicted characters. I especially like how with just a half sentence here and there you capture James, making him seem as real, as sympathetic and as conflicted as Paul.

This is terrific!! I hope to see more soon.
wow, thanks. This piece is a little...indulgent for me, I think. I didn't plan it out too well before I started writing.

Sorry i'm such a lurker but I do believe I've read + enjoyed everything you've ever written.
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Old 05-31-2011, 04:06 PM   #12
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Default pt. 5

"Everything okay?" Reese asked as Paul stabbed a piece of lettuce with his fork.

"Hmm? Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing." Reese shrugged. "It's just you usually have a . . . a healthier appetite."

Paul scowled. One lonely bowl of salad sat on his tray, along with a glass of water. "Uh . . . I'm just not that hungry today."

His stomach immediately protested that statement with an angry growl, but it was pretty loud in the cafeteria and he didn't think Reese heard.

"Oh." Reese nodded. "This doesn't have anything to do with that guy, does it?"

"No." Paul flushed red.

"'Cause you know, you should make sure he likes you for--"

"I know, I know." Paul interrupted, exasperated. "Make sure he likes me for me. I got it already."

Reese pushed his glasses up his nose. "Alright. But you don't look like you're enjoying that salad very much. Hey, you know what would probably help? Cut up some chicken tenders and throw 'em in there."

Paul rolled his eyes. Reese and his chicken tenders.

"Yeah, thanks, but I'll just stick with this for now."

They finished their meals and parted ways for class, but Paul barely got four steps out of the cafeteria before he was leaning weakly against the wall. He felt like he hadn't eaten a thing, and he had three hours of class left before he could go home. There was no way he'd be able to focus with his stomach this empty.

He wandered down the hallways of the student union to a snack machine hidden away in a corner, stopping in front of its bright display.

Surely one little snack wouldn't hurt, would it? After all, he usually had three or four plates at lunch.

He fed the machine a dollar and selected a snickers bar, ripping it open as soon as it was in his hands. The chocolate melted on his tongue as he energetically chewed the caramel and peanuts. Delicious, as always.

Four more bites and it was gone, but Paul was still standing in front of the machine. Maybe he could have just one more . . .

Five dollars later, he left the machine and headed for class, a bit of chocolate still stuck on his lips.


For the next week he continued the same routine, eating as little as possible in the dining hall but giving in to temptation the minute he passed a vending machine. Still, he reasoned he was making some progress. A few candy bars a day couldn't equal everything he had been eating before.

He had to be getting something out of the experience, since he was certainly suffering for it. The treats barely made a dent in his hunger, and he'd had to adjust to constant growling from his stomach. His mind wandered in class--usually to thoughts of food--and he knew his grades would probably take a hit if he couldn't figure out a way to get himself back on track.

Worst of all, he was angry and irritable all the time, and pretty much anything that was said to him rubbed him the wrong way.

"So then Melinda said she liked comic books, too, and that they weren't nerdy at all. That's pretty cool for a girl to say, don't you think?" Reese remarked one afternoon.

"Uh huh," Paul mumbled into his bowl of salad, wishing he could smother it in ranch dressing and make it just a little more palatable. But that would defeat the purpose, so he was forced to stick with the low-cal Italian. He speared a piece of spinach and shoved it in his mouth, chewing angrily.

"You know, I noticed she started wearing flats instead of heels, so she doesn't tower over me quite as much as before. You think maybe I might have a shot with her now? Gosh, she's so pretty, don't you think? I mean, I know you don't like girls like that, but you can still tell she's pretty, right? You think I should ask her out?"

Paul dropped his fork with some lettuce still attached, and it bounced on his tray. "Jeez, Reese. I don't care. Do whatever you want . . . I'm just sick and tired of hearing about Melinda all day long!"

Reese gave him a hurt look from behind his thick-rimmed glasses. "Oh. Sorry, I didn't realize I was bothering you." He slid back his chair and picked up his tray, three chicken tenders still sitting uneaten on his plate. "I'm done. I guess I'll see you back at the room, then. But I'm going out of town this weekend so I won't be bothering you too much."

Paul closed his eyes, berating himself for his outburst. "Reese, I'm sorry . . . I don't know what's gotten into me lately."

"Yeah . . . it's okay," Reese threw over his shoulder as he walked away. "See ya."

Paul picked up his fork and stabbed his lettuce repeatedly, as if trying to wound it.

Stupid, stupid salad. Stab. Stupid diet. Stab. Stupid, fat belly. Stab.

"Heya, Paul."

Paul whirled around and found himself staring into James' eyes.

"Whatcha got for lunch there?"

"Umm," he licked his lips. "A salad."

"That it?" James looked concerned. "How come?"

Any other time, Paul probably would have blushed himself into silence. But he was still seething, and he let his mouth blurt out words before he'd thought them over. "I'm on a diet."

James frowned. "A diet? Who told you you should be on a diet?"

"No one told me," he snapped. "I'm not stupid. I know I have to . . . to . . ."

James furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly dropped his voice to a whisper. "Crap, I gotta go, the guys are coming. But we'll talk later."

He quickly darted away.

Paul stared down at himself, bewildered and yet slightly pleased. James had finally come up to speak with him in public. It was some sort of progress, at least, if not everything he'd been aiming for. Maybe he'd lost a little weight already?

The curve of his stomach, though, seemed to suggest otherwise.

He sighed and resumed eating his lettuce, making sure he scraped every little bit out of the bowl before standing to leave. Food was food, and he still wanted as much as he could get.

He didn't even pretend he was going to skip the vending machine that day. Some days he managed to get a few feet beyond the hallway that hid his guilty pleasure, but today he went straight for it. He was nervous and frustrated, and James had said they were going to talk later. He needed to make sure he was on his game for that, and dying of hunger wouldn't help him any.

He had ten dollars in singles on him (he'd started carrying a lot more cash, lately), and he fed everything he had into the machine, loading up on chocolate bars. He still had to get to class, so he stowed them in his bag, except for one that he opened on the spot and quickly sank his teeth into.

All of a sudden, he heard someone behind him clear his throat.

He turned around slowly, already knowing who it was. Darn it, why was James always sneaking up on him like that?

Then his heart began to beat faster. How long had James been standing there? Had he seen how many candy bars he'd snuck into his bag?

"You are just too cute," James said, walking closer to him.

Thank god, Paul thought. He didn't see.

He still had the one candy bar in his hand, though. He tried to hide it behind his back, but James reached over and took it from him.

"Still hungry after your salad?" he asked, breaking off a piece and popping it in Paul's mouth.

"Um, j-just a little." Paul eked out as he chewed.

James abruptly pushed Paul up against the corner behind the vending machine, pressing into his body so forcefully that Paul could feel his belly smushing out in all directions in search of space.

"We've got to get a chance to spend some more time together," James whispered.

"Um, m-my roommate is going to visit his parents this weekend, s-so if you wanted to come over . . ."

James cut him off by kissing him. "Perfect. I'll see you then, Paul." He smiled brightly and left.

Paul finished the candy bar, then ate three more before he moved from the spot.


"Hi, Paul." James walked into his dorm room late Saturday evening, greeting him with a quick kiss.

Paul just blinked and smiled.

James dropped a stuffed backpack from his shoulder, setting it down on the bed. "So I brought some DVDs and some snacks. I thought maybe we could have a movie marathon."

"Yeah . . . that sounds like fun."

Paul put some pillows up against the back of the bed for them to lean on while James unloaded his backpack. He'd brought a couple bottles of coke with him, along with extra large bags of Cheetos, chips, and caramel popcorn.

James opened each one up and climbed onto the bed, patting the space by his side. "Stick in a movie and let's kick back and relax."

Paul did, barely noticing which DVD he'd picked. The scent of the food was distracting him, since he'd barely eaten all day. He tried breathing through his mouth to shut it out as he flicked off the lights and sat beside James, hoping the glow of the TV wasn't enough to illuminate the rolls on his stomach.

James grinned and dug his hand into the bag of chips as the trailers started to play.

In the darkness, Paul slipped a hand around his belly. After one week of salad, he had to have lost some weight, he reasoned. A few snacks with the movie couldn't set him back that much. Besides, it'd be rude to refuse the food after James had gone through the trouble of bringing it.

He reached for the caramel popcorn and took a heaping handful. The diet could wait.

Many, many handfuls later, he sat on the bed with James, surrounded by empty bottles and bags. He'd consumed an entire two-liter of coke on his own, and a little of the second bottle as well. He had no way of knowing how much of the chips and popcorn he'd eaten, but he had a sinking suspicion it was quite a bit more than James.

James stretched, clearing away the trash. "Well, that was fun. Getting a little sleepy, though."

"Oh . . . you want to go home now?"

James shrugged. "Nah, not yet." He walked over to Paul's dresser, picking up a picture of him and a few of his friends from high school. "Aw, you look cute in this picture."

Paul's lower lip trembled. He'd been self-conscious about his weight back then, too, but he was countless pounds heavier now than he had been in the photo. And the picture was only eight months old.

James continued investigating, and to Paul's dismay he opened his top dresser drawer.

Oh no! What if he saw how big his clothes were?

James started to laugh. "Oh my goodness, Paul . . ."

Paul froze, feeling like he'd been punched in his ample gut. No, no, no . . .

"[i]Where[/]> did you get these?"

He pulled out a set of light-blue pajamas, complete with tiny little teddy bears all over them.

Oh my god.

"Um, th-those . . . m-my mom got them . . . I . . . I don't know why she packed them, I . . . I told her not to, b-but she didn't listen . . ."

His skin burned so hot he was sure he looked like a tomato.

"There is just no end to your cuteness," James said, thrusting the pajamas forward. "Here, put them on."


"Go on, I won't look. I promise. I just have to see these on you."

"James, no, I . . . I never wear these . . ."

"Please, Paul? For me?"

Paul reached out with a shaky hand to take the pajamas from James' grasp.

"Alright," James smiled happily. "I'll just turn this way and wait on the bed. Let me know when I can look."

Paul stared down at the childish pajamas. He tried to remember the last time he'd worn them--probably his final month of high school, before he'd picked up his usual five pounds of summer weight gain. And, of course, before he'd come to school and discovered the joys of an unlimited meal plan.

And they'd been a tag snug even back then.

Swallowing down a lump in his throat, he quickly took off his clothes. He hid behind an open closet door, even though it seemed James was staying true to his word and not looking.

He went for the pants first, sighing in relief when they made it past his thighs, even if it was a tight fit. He yanked them up over his rear next, feeling them pinch at his hips, but in a moment of dread he realized that was as far as they would go. The drawstring band was threatening to disappear within the fabric fold, and there was just no way he'd be able to get them over the swell of his stomach.

Shaking with fear, he slipped his arms into the top. Please let it cover my stomach, please, he prayed silently.

He sucked in his belly, but he could feel all the food and drink he'd had sloshing around inside, making it difficult. He managed to close the first and second button, but beyond that it was a lost cause. The buttons were straining so much it was obscene, letting doughy blobs of flesh poke through the gaps. Thinking quickly, he dug into his closet and pulled out a light blue t-shirt. The color matched, so maybe he could pull it off as part of the ensemble.

"Can I look yet?"

"N-no, not yet. . ."

Discarding the button-up, he pulled the t-shirt over his head. Luckily for him it did indeed cover most of his belly. The overhang of his stomach was showing, but Paul hoped no one could see that when looking at him head-on. Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do about how tightly the shirt clung to him.

And then came the moment he most feared--checking himself in the mirror. He turned toward the full length in front of the closet door very slowly, wishing he could postpone the agony.

He looked ridiculous. Like a very, very chubby boy trapped in too-tiny, little-kid pajamas. His legs and butt filled up nearly all the fabric of the pants, and his stomach poured out in front of him, appearing even more inflated than usual. His chest had softened considerably as well, into two little rounded mounds, clearly outlined by the tight t-shirt. His arms squeezed out of the sleeves, all soft and squishy. And as for his face--was that the hint of a double chin?

Tears filled his eyes. He knew he hadn't lost a single pound. If anything, he'd gained even more weight.

"Can I look now?"

"N-no, p-please, James. They're too t-t--"

But James had jumped up and was coming straight for him. "Oh my god."

"J-james . . ."

"Even more adorable than I imagined."

Shock kept Paul's tears from falling as James wrapped him a tight hug. "J-james, no, I'm--"

James cut him off with a kiss--and not a short one, either. It was slow and passionate, taking the breath from his lungs.

"James, I look--"

James kissed him again.

This time, when they broke apart, Paul had forgotten what he was trying to say.

"As cute as they look on, I bet they'd look even cuter off," James whispered, leaning over to rest his forehead against Paul's.

Now Paul paled. "I don't want to take them off."

"How 'bout just the bottoms?" James persisted.

He didn't wait for permission, and instead began slowly drawing the pants downwards.

"Stop." Paul put his hands down to block James' way. His emotions were swinging back and forth so wildly he was starting to get seasick.

James looked down at him with a worried expression. "Paul, I'd really like to . . . to . . . make you feel good, if you'll let me. Don't you want that?"

Yes! Paul's mind screamed. He wanted that very much, and even more since those ardent kisses. But how could he let James see is fat, naked flesh? James would be so disgusted he'd probably run from the room screaming.

"Turn off the lights," he suddenly blurted out.

James smiled softly. "Okay, Paul."

He hit the lights and only the glow from the streetlamps shone into the room. Paul prayed it'd be enough to keep James from seeing the full extent of the damage he'd done to his body by overeating.

James continued sliding the pants down then, kneeling on the floor as they reached Paul's ankles. Paul stood perfectly still, half in fear and half in excitement.

In the mirror he caught a glimpse of his pudgy, dimpled thighs, but he quickly looked away. James wasn't looking at his legs, anyways.

He was looking straight up, and smiling reassuringly. He arranged Paul's boxers strategically to gain access, then lifted his hand up and placed it on Paul's belly, fingers spread wide.

Paul stared down at James' hand. From that angle, his stomach looked absolutely enormous. He could only hope it didn't seem quite so large from where James was crouching.

A moment later he didn't have the wherewithal to think about how big his stomach looked. He was lost in ecstasy, as James had gently pulled him into his mouth.

James abruptly dug his fingers into Paul's belly, and Paul yelped. He almost backed up, but he was too close to finishing, and from then on James kept his hand completely flat.

Paul tried to give warning when the time came, but didn't quite make it. James didn't seem to mind, though. In fact, at some point during their escapade he'd drawn himself out, too, and after swallowing he finished himself off, catching the release in his hand.

James stood slowly, pulling Paul back into his arms. "Was that good?"

"Yes," Paul said, starry-eyed. "Very good."

"You think maybe I could spend the night, since your roommate's not here?"

"Yes, please."

James smirked and took off his jeans, leaving on his t-shirt and boxers. He pulled back the covers and jumped into Paul's bed. "Coming?"

Paul looked at his pajama pants, still lying in a pile on the floor. As atrocious as they were, he knew he'd rather be wearing those than have his fat legs exposed in the bed with James.

Hopefully James wouldn't call him out on it. After all, they were pajamas. He scooped them off the floor and pulled them on.

"Admit it, you love those pajamas," James laughed. "Now come here, little teddy bear."

Paul padded over, crawling onto the bed. He could feel his belly hanging down, only a short distance away from the mattress. It swung side to side as he found his way to the top of the blankets and quickly dove under.

James put an arm around him and turned him onto his side. Their faces were several inches apart, but Paul could feel his stomach spreading out over the bed, touching James' firm abs. He felt like a beached whale, lying like that.

James pulled him in even closer, squashing up against his belly, and gave him a gentle kiss. "Goodnight, Paul."

Worries forgotten, Paul snuggled happily into James' arms. "Goodnight."


Last edited by Lou Grant; 05-31-2011 at 05:23 PM.
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Old 05-31-2011, 04:55 PM   #13
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Novelist has said some nice things

I'm a lurker and I don't post much if at all, but this is the best story I've ever read.
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Old 06-01-2011, 02:43 AM   #14
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agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!

What a nice surprise of a story and new writer! You do a great job in capturing the insecurities and repressing rituals characters have to face in school life. And who can't love a hero who owns a teddy-bear pyjama ...
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Old 06-02-2011, 08:43 PM   #15
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Originally Posted by Novelist View Post
I'm a lurker and I don't post much if at all, but this is the best story I've ever read.
you are too kind

Originally Posted by agouderia View Post
What a nice surprise of a story and new writer! You do a great job in capturing the insecurities and repressing rituals characters have to face in school life. And who can't love a hero who owns a teddy-bear pyjama ...
Thank you. I usually lurk, so I apologize for never telling you how amazing your work is.

I have a thing for pjs :-P
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Old 06-02-2011, 08:49 PM   #16
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Default pt. 6

Paul popped a couple french fries into his mouth, turning another page of his history notes. With exams coming up he hadn't been able to avoid all the snacking that went hand-in-hand with study sessions, and he'd decided to put off his diet for a more convenient time.

It didn't quite seem as important as it once had, anyways, since the night he and James spent together. Every time he thought about the moments they'd shared, he grew so happy his concerns about his weight barely registered.

"Ugh, I'm full," Reese said. "You want the rest of my fries?"

"Sure!" Paul agreed, eagerly taking hold of the box. "Thanks."

Reese smiled as he adjusted his glasses. "You've been in a better mood lately. Any reason in particular?"

Tapping the table, Paul debated keeping his secret to himself, but in the end he was just too proud. "Well . . . James and I are getting kinda . . . serious."

"Serious?" Reese adjusted his glasses. "As in . . . you . . . and him . . ."

"Uh huh," Paul sighed dreamily.

"Wow, Paul," Reese punched him in the arm, but it was a pretty weak punch. "Way to go."

Smirking in satisfaction, Paul stuffed another handful of fries into his mouth.

"We should all hang out together some time," Reese continued. "As your best friend at school, I should get to know him."

Paul stopped mid-chew. That was a normal request, of course, but he got a nervous feeling in his stomach, wondering if James would really want to do that.

"Um, yeah. Sure."

"Why don't you text him? He must have exams coming up, too. We could meet up for a study session tomorrow."

Under Reese's watchful eye, he pulled out his cell phone, pasting on a smile.

Reese wants to know if you'd like to join our study session tomorrow.

James responded only a few seconds later. Sorry, Paul. Busy.

"Uh . . . he can't do it tomorrow," Paul told Reese, trying to keep the sadness from his voice.

"How about Thursday, then?"

Paul tried again, and got essentially the same response. He frowned. "He's just really busy, Reese."

Reese took off his glasses. "I see. He's busy a lot, isn't he."

"What does that mean?" Paul ate a few more french fries, trying to ignore the worry in Reese's voice.

"I just mean . . . you don't know any of his friends, and he doesn't know any of yours . . . and he seems too 'busy' to change that."

"W-well his friends are . . ."

"Jerks, from what I remember."

Paul sighed. "Yeah."

"Look, I'm not trying to bring you down," Reese replaced his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "I just want you to make sure you're careful. I hope this guy has his head screwed on right, and sees what a great thing he's got going with you."

The fries were all gone now. "Yeah. Thanks, Reese. I'm gonna go grab another snack--I got a lot more studying to do. You want anything?"

"No, I'm good."

Paul took off, anxiously chewing on his lip until he was able to get something more tasty to nibble on.


He didn't get a chance to see James again in the weeks leading up to exams. But it was a busy time of year, and he decided he didn't have any real cause to be concerned.

He had a lot to do as well, preparing for the end of the term. With most of his focus on writing papers and taking exams, he ate whenever he wanted, and as much as he wanted. He couldn't risk letting his grades slip by being distracted.

Without fully processing the fact, he'd slipped into wearing only three pairs of his roomiest cargo pants. It made for a lot more laundry runs, but it was worth it to avoid the pinching and squeezing that told him there was every chance he was putting on more weight. And in the colder weather he was able to switch from t-shirts to bulky sweaters and sweatshirts, masking his continued growth.

He finally ran into James as he was leaving the cafeteria during the last week of the term--quite literally, in fact.

The book he'd been reading clattered to the floor and his belly bounced from the contact. James just stood there smirking, and Paul was pretty sure he'd placed himself in the way intentionally.

"You shouldn't walk with your nose in a book, you know. What if I were a wall?" James bent to retrieve the textbook and hand it over.

Paul rolled his eyes, trying to play it cool. "Very funny."

Without another word, James cocked his head towards the bathroom--the same one where they'd met--and walked off.

Paul followed him in, and James grabbed his arm once they were inside, dragging him into a stall.

"Right back where we started, huh," James said, pulling Paul into his arms.

His hands roamed all over Paul's body, pinching in a few spots, as they pressed their lips together in a series of deep kisses.

"Hey, if you're real quiet, maybe we could--"

Paul pulled away, startled. "What? In here?"

"Yeah," James said, his pupils wide and his breaths excited. "Why not?"

"Why not?" Paul crossed his arms, suddenly feeling irritated. "I haven't seen you in nearly two weeks, and instead of saying hello, you drag me into a bathroom stall to hook up?"

The color drained from James' face. "Oh." He looked down at his feet, clearly embarrassed.

He scooted towards the door, and Paul's brain finally caught up with his mouth. What was he saying? He couldn't push James away. It was a miracle anyone even liked him at all, let alone a nice, good-looking guy like James. "Wait! Don't go . . . uh . . . I . . . I was just nervous, I didn't mean it . . ."

James sighed. "No, Paul, you're right. This is not very classy of me, is it?"

Someone walked in, and Paul instinctively went for James' open arms as they silently waited for the person to leave. When they were alone again he stayed wrapped in the hug, worried that if he let James go, he'd find himself miserable and alone again.

James squeezed him tighter. "I tell you what . . . why don't you come stay at my place for a couple weeks during the break? My parents are overseas, so we'd have the whole house to ourselves. How does that sound?"

"Oh." Paul blinked. It sounded like pure heaven. "I . . . I'd have to ask my mom first . . . but yeah, I'd really like to."

"Great." James kissed him. "There's just one condition."

"What's that?"

"You have to bring the teddy bear pajamas."

"What? James, I told you. I don't really wear those . . ."

"No excuses," James laughed. "You're bringing them, and that's final."


"Mmm, this is delicious, Mom. Thanks." Paul reached across the kitchen table in the small house he shared with his mother, helping himself to another piece of chicken pot pie.

It was good to be away from all the stresses of school. In the week since he'd arrived home, he'd been making the most of his break, sleeping in and eating hearty, homemade meals.

"Well, thank you, dear," she responded. "But are you sure you want more? I did serve you a nice portion to start with."

Paul peered down at his plate uneasily, sucking in his stomach. It didn't really hurt to do that, which meant he wasn't anywhere near full. "It's . . . it's just a small piece, Mom," he mumbled.

He quickly shoveled the food into his mouth, as if to get rid of the evidence.

"Oh, honey," his mother said, shaking her head. "Do try to take smaller bites. Maybe then you won't feel like eating quite as much."

Paul scowled. His mom was the queen of beating around the bush. Why wouldn't she just come out and say what she was thinking?

Still quite hungry, he pushed back his chair and began clearing the table. His mother walked past, giving him a little peck on the cheek before making her way into the living room.

Thinking he'd heard the end of her commentary on his eating for the evening, he stuck a fork into the remainder of the chicken pot pie and took a couple more bites. It was so creamy and flavorful, he felt like he could have eaten the entire casserole-dish full and then some. Of course, his mother always insisted they eat only half the large dish, and save the rest for the following day.

Lost in thought, he accidentally stuck his fork in too far to the right, leaving a gaping hole in the pie. His mother would surely notice that, so he went to even it out by eating the surrounding pie back into a fairly straight line.

Except he messed up again, and had to eat even more to try to set it right.

Soon there was only a sliver of pie left, and he knew he'd gone too far to hope to cover his tracks. Maybe he could prepare dinner tomorrow and hope his mother forgot about the leftovers? In any case, there was hardly any point in saving the paltry amount that remained, so he finished that off, too.

He scraped up the last forkful, closing his eyes to fully savor the taste.

"Paul honey, aren't you done cleaning up? Do you need any h . . . oh." His mother stopped short in front of the kitchen table. "Oh dear."

Paul looked down at the floor guiltily. Caught red-handed.

"Honey, come and sit with me in the living room, will you? I think we need to have a little chat."

Paul sat heavily on the couch, sucking in his stomach as far as it would go and trying to curl in on himself. His mother stood above him, looking on with a worried expression.

"I did try to warn you about watching your eating habits at school, didn't I?" She sighed heavily. "You always had such a big appetite, even when you were little. I just knew you were going to have problems."

"Mom," he protested weakly. "It's not that bad, is it?"

"Darling, surely you've noticed you've . . . grown a little . . ." She brought a hand to her own flat stomach with a slight frown.

His lips started to quiver, and he kept his eyes wide so his tears wouldn't spill out.

She sat down beside him, laying a gentle arm on his shoulders. "I just worry about you, dear. You know you've always been a little on the shy side, and I'm afraid getting . . . chubbier . . . won't help matters."

"Mom . . ." he groaned.

"It's a mother's job to worry. I just want you to be happy, make friends--"

"I have friends," he quickly interrupted.


"Yeah, my roommate Reese--he's really cool. And, uh, there's this senior who I made friends with, too . . . actually, he invited me to stay over at his house for a while during the break. It's only a couple hours away, and his parents are traveling, so he thought it might get sorta lonely . . ."

His mom smiled, looking relieved. "Well, I'm glad to hear that, Paul. That poor boy, all alone for the vacation. I suppose it might be nice of you to keep him company. You'll have to wait till after we get back from visiting your Aunt Linda's, though."

Paul let out a sigh of relief, until he saw the way that made his stomach pooch out again. He quickly inhaled, trying his best to keep his mother from spotting just how "chubby" he'd gotten.

"Yeah. Thanks, Mom. You're the best." He jumped up, kissing her on the cheek. "I'm gonna go pack my bags for both trips, then."

She grabbed his hand before he could slip away. "Oh, and honey, while we're there . . . you will try to watch what you eat, won't you? You know how your Aunt Linda loves to cook."

He gave her a half-heated smile. "Um, sure, Mom."


Paul stood out on the driveway in front of his house, waiting for James' white SUV. He pulled at the waistband of his cargo pants, trying to make a little more room for his stomach.

Holidays were simply not good times to lose weight. With all the roast turkey, baked ham, cakes, cookies, and pies, it was pretty much impossible to stick to any kind of diet. He hoped James wouldn't notice he'd packed on a few more pounds.

But it was only a few, he reassured himself. His clothes weren't thattight, and he could slim down once he went back to school. He could start eating salads again, and go to the gym . . . take up jogging maybe. Then he and James could spend more time together, meet each others' friends, go out places on dates . . .

Honk honk!

James' car pulled up to the curb. "Ready, teddy?"

Was he ever.


Last edited by Lou Grant; 06-03-2011 at 03:19 AM.
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Old 06-02-2011, 10:27 PM   #17
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Novelist has said some nice things

Aww, poor Paul. He's so cute, LOL... I hope he does figure out eventually that James actually likes his chub, but then again, I like him shy too. Something tells me he'd be shy no matter what. His mother is rude. I think it would be very funny if she met James. Nice work again! I checked a few times today to see if you had another installation, this is definitely my favourite.
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Old 06-03-2011, 08:13 AM   #18
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Novelist has said some nice things

(This is definitely my favourite story, I mean - I can't edit my post, so I have to double-post, sorry!)
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Old 06-03-2011, 08:38 AM   #19
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yeah cant wait to see the rest of this story! one of the best ive ever read!
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Old 06-03-2011, 10:05 PM   #20
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Originally Posted by Novelist View Post
Aww, poor Paul. He's so cute, LOL... I hope he does figure out eventually that James actually likes his chub, but then again, I like him shy too. Something tells me he'd be shy no matter what. His mother is rude. I think it would be very funny if she met James. Nice work again! I checked a few times today to see if you had another installation, this is definitely my favourite.
thank you Shy guys are cute.

Originally Posted by Sugarkitten7 View Post
yeah cant wait to see the rest of this story! one of the best ive ever read!
:-) thanks. It's my first long wg piece.
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Old 06-03-2011, 10:23 PM   #21
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Default pt. 7

"This is your house?" Paul gaped, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "This is a mansion!"

"Well, it's my parents' house," James laughed. "But yeah, I guess it is pretty nice."

Nice was an understatement. Lofty ceilings with room after room of neat things-- a big screen TV with surround sound, practically every video game console invented, a pool table, and a huge kitchen--stocked to the brim with food.

Every kind of snack food imaginable sat on counters and in pantries, and the refrigerator housed even more yummy treats, along with tons of soda.

"I bought all this stuff for us, by the way," James added, grabbing a can for himself. "So you don't have to worry about eating my parents' food or anything. I can't really cook anything beyond breakfast, so I figured we could order in for most of our meals, and snack on this stuff when we get hungry." He uncovered a tray full of brownies. "Want?"

Paul took one readily.

As he chewed, James led him through the rest of the house, giving him the grand tour.

"There's a lot to do here, but it's no fun when I'm by myself. With you here, we can have a blast just relaxing and staying in. Sound like a plan?"

"Mhm." They'd arrived back at the kitchen, and Paul had another brownie filling up his mouth. "Sounds great."

"Okay, well I'm gonna get comfy, change into my lounging clothes." James grinned. "Why don't you do the same? You did bring the pjs, right?"

"Yes." Paul rolled his eyes. "I brought them."

"Great. Well, change whenever you want, and in the meantime, why don't you look over these takeout menus for dinner? There's Thai, Italian, Chinese, pizza . . . pick anything you want."

James thrust the menus into his hands and left for his room.

Devouring another brownie, Paul looked them over. So many choices. His stomach rumbled, and he absentmindedly went for yet another piece, brushing his belly up against the kitchen counter.

A nervous little flutter went off inside him as he stopped to pat his protruding gut.

I shouldn't really be eating so much. My pants are getting pretty tight again . . .

James reappeared in the kitchen, looking quite comfortable in a pair of old sweats and a high school t-shirt. "You haven't changed yet?"

Changing suddenly sounded like a good idea. Paul didn't want to think about his snug pants anymore, and knew he'd feel much better in sweats.

"I'm going to now," he said, quickly heading off to the bathroom.

James gave him a pouting look when he returned. "No teddy bears."

"No," Paul laughed at James' sad expression. "But I promise I'll wear them later, okay?"

"Okay, I can live with that." James squeezed him into a hug. "Now, what's for dinner?"

Paul stood on his tiptoes, hoping for a little kiss, which James promptly gave him. "Maybe Italian?"

"Italian it is!" James trumpeted, running towards the phone. "But help yourself to snacks while we wait for it."

No longer constricted by clothing, Paul happily grabbed another brownie.

"Okay, so, what do you like? Lasagna? Spaghetti and meatballs? Chicken Parmesan? Fettuccini alfredo? Breadsticks?" James shouted from the living room.

"Um . . . " Paul considered for a moment as he rounded the corner. "I like all of those."

"All of those? Looks like someone brought his appetite." James smirked "Alright, let's get all of 'um."

Paul's eyes grew wide. "N-no, that's not what I meant . . ."

But James was already on the phone, speaking into the receiver, and Paul could only blush and finish off his brownie. At least it seemed like James wasn't aware of his newly acquired poundage, or else he surely wouldn't be ordering such rich food for them.

"Now, what would you like to do first . . . maybe play a board game while we wait for dinner?"

"Sure." Paul nodded, wiping a few crumbs from his lips.

"You play chess?" James asked.

"You play chess?" Paul shot back, stunned.

"Sure. Why, does that surprise you?"

"Um, a little. You don't exactly look like someone who'd play."

James feigned a hurt look. "Don't judge a book by its cover, Paul."

Paul blanched white. He really ought to take classes on appropriate conversation--now he was insulting James in his own home. And what if James judged him by his 'cover'? All he'd see would be an overweight, nerdy freshman--surely not enough to keep his interest.

"Well, let's play." James set out a fancy board with crystal pieces, then returned to the kitchen to retrieve the tray of brownies. "I'm a little rusty, I'll admit, but I'll try to give you a run for your money."

Paul plopped himself down on the floor, resting on his stomach. He figured that'd stop him for worrying about his belly for a while, but when he glanced behind him he was embarrassed to see his plump rear spreading up and out behind him.

James gave his behind a little slap, which sent it quivering, and Paul quickly flipped over.

Maybe he was better off displaying the parts he could suck in.

James was not as rusty as he claimed, and Paul had to put in a good deal of effort to outthink him. As he concentrated his hand wandered from the brownies to his mouth in a steady rhythm, until he finally reached for the plate and found it completely empty.

For a moment he felt horrible, until a much better realization came to him.

"Checkmate!" he squealed triumphantly, thankful for the way the sweats hid his jiggling belly when he laughed.

"Alright, alright," James groaned. "You got me."


When the food arrived, they sat on the floor in front of the huge TV, metal serving trays set up all around them.

"Here you go." James handed over a paper plate and some plastic utensils. "Hope you don't mind if we skip the fine china. Less dishes to do when we're through." He flicked off the lights and put in a movie, settling himself only a few inches away from Paul. "Dig in!"

In the dark, and in his soft, comfortable sweats, Paul felt fully relaxed, and he tucked into the meal with gusto. First he went for the lasagna, cutting himself a modest piece, accompanied by a few breadsticks. He tried the spaghetti and the fettuccini next, then went back for a little more lasagna. Realizing he hadn't had any of the chicken parmesan yet, he added that to a second helping of spaghetti.

He hadn't been able to eat to his heart's content while at home with his mother, and he was realizing now just how much he missed it. Soon he knew he had no hope of stopping himself, and he devoured bite after bite, returning to the containers for fifth and sixth servings until every bit of food was gone.

Just when he was sure he couldn't fit in another morsel, James popped up and treaded to the kitchen, returning with a large tray full of cannolis. "Dessert," he grinned.

Of course, Paul had to try one of those. And a second, and a third, and a fourth.

By the time the movie was over he was completely stuffed, his tummy puffing out like an orb beneath his sweatshirt. For just a split second, he was happily sated, until he noticed James looking at him.

James was biting his lip, and his expression was . . . unreadable.

Suddenly Paul grew aware of the fact that even the waistband of his sweatpants now felt uncomfortable against his bloated belly. He had powdered sugar down his shirt, and bits of red sauce stained his pants. He realized then that he'd eaten an absurd amount--the food they'd purchased was probably meant to feed at least ten people.

He nearly started to cry from the shame. He was such a freak. Why couldn't he control himself around food? Why couldn't he have a normal appetite like everyone else?

"What's wrong?" James asked worriedly.

"N-nothing," Paul sniffed. "It's nothing."

"You sure?"

Paul nodded, his breaths labored and small beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"Well, okay. You wanna go upstairs to bed now?"

The idea of sleep sounded enticing, but Paul felt far too full to move right then. "N-not yet. Maybe in a few."

James nodded and pushed aside the emptied food containers so he could sit closer. He took Paul's hand in his, embracing Paul with his free arm. "Okay, teddy bear," he said soothingly, squeezing Paul gently. "We could play a video game . . . or my Dad has bowling set up downstairs in the basement."

"I think . . . I think I'd just like to sit here for a while, if that's okay."

"Yup," James nodded. "Sure thing."

They talked softly while Paul digested, about school and potential careers and family. James kept stroking Paul's arm softly, and eventually the gentle rhythm began to lull Paul to asleep. His head dropped on James' shoulder, and his eyes gradually drifted closed.

"I think you're ready for bed," James whispered, kissing his temple. "Come on, let's go."

Paul got up sleepily, still feeling weighed down by his huge meal. He followed James up the steps, getting a little winded by the time they reached the spacious room with its own private bathroom.

"Gonna put your pjs on?" James asked hopefully.

"Oh . . . I left my stuff downstairs," Paul said, suddenly coming to his senses. He frowned, not looking forward to repeating the stairs.

"I'll get it!" James quickly announced. He flew out of the room and returned in what felt like only a few seconds with Paul's bag.

Paul scratched at his belly under his sweatshirt, taking his pajamas out and ducking into the bathroom to change. The one advantage to his ill-fitting pjs was that the band didn't fit over his stomach, meaning the whole jiggling mass would be free from painful restraint.

The t-shirt wasn't cooperating at all, though, probably because he was still quite full. It refused to stay down and cover his entire belly, so he pulled his sweatshirt back on over top of it. He surveyed himself in the mirror and decided the look wasn't all that bad--certainly not too much worse than it had been the first time James' saw him in the getup, except for the fact that his butt looked a little bigger.

He headed out and was surprised to see James resting on his bed in just his boxers. He wasn't quite as thin as Paul had thought, but certainly not even the slightest bit chubby. Feeling a little more nervous, Paul crawled into the bed.

James started to kiss him as soon as his head hit the pillow--gently, at first, and then with more energy and force. Suddenly Paul felt a cold hand slip under the edge of his sweatshirt, sinking into his soft stomach.

He recoiled in fear, but James pursued him, trying to continue the kissing. "C'mon, Paul. Take your sweatshirt off."

"Um, I'm . . . I'm cold." Paul stuttered out. He put his hands down against the hem to hold it firmly in place.

"I can turn up the heat."

"No!" Paul practically shouted, feeling his hysteria mounting to the point where he was about to cry. "I . . . I c-can't take off my sh-shirt. I . . . I'm . . . I'm too . . ."

"Paul," James interrupted sternly. "Why do you get like this? One minute you seem like you're having a good time, and the next you're just so . . . worried. You don't have to worry with me, you know. I like you, Paul. Honest."

Paul's lower lip trembled. Of course he was worried. How could he not be? Didn't James understand that boys like him weren't supposed to like tubs of lard?

"Stop worrying." James pushed his nose against Paul's to sneak in a kiss. "I don't want you to worry anymore for the rest of our vacation. You're here to have fun."

Paul sniffled. "Okay. I'll try . . . b-but I want to keep my sweatshirt on."

The look of disappointment on James' face confused him. Why would James want to see him without a shirt? He must have some idea that it wasn't a pretty sight. Unless, of course, he took Paul's reluctance to mean he didn't want to take anything off . . . which definitely wasn't the case.

"The bottoms, though . . . th-that's still okay."

James grinned, rolled him over, and pounced.


The next morning, Paul awoke to the sounds and smells of sizzling bacon.

Throwing off the covers, he realized he'd unknowingly discarded his sweatshirt at some point during the night. He stood up to retrieve it from the floor and was pleased to see some of the bloating in his stomach had gone down, making the t-shirt a better fit. Just to be on the safe side, though, he yanked on the sweatshirt and began lumbering down the stairs.

He was salivating by the time he reached the kitchen and its delicious aromas. Out on the island in front of him sat heaping plates of pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, and hash browns.

"What's all this?" he asked James, who was just placing some buttered toast down in the center of the spread.

"I told you I could cook breakfast foods." James whirled around and pecked Paul on the lips. "Morning, teddy bear. How'd you sleep?"

"Good." Paul grinned. He'd liked the part before sleep, too.

"Well, grab a plate," James said, pulling a barstool up to the island. "I don't want to brag, but I'm pretty good at making breakfast. Makes up for my lack of talent in cooking anything else."

"I'm sure it's great," Paul climbed into a seat beside him. He took up a fork and hovered over the plate of bacon for a moment, debating how many pieces he should take.

He felt James' hand come to rest on his back, giving him a gentle rub. "You like bacon, right? If you don't, I could make some ham."

Paul looked over at James and shook his head, smiling. "I like it."

After another few seconds of consideration, he decided to take James' advice and not worry--at least for the time being. He was on vacation and he was going to enjoy himself.

"I like it a lot," he added under his breath, and began piling food on his plate.


Last edited by Lou Grant; 06-07-2011 at 03:15 AM.
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Old 06-04-2011, 11:38 AM   #22
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LOVE it.. great work again... they're just so cute.
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Old 06-06-2011, 10:53 PM   #23
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Default pt. 8

"Wake up, teddy bear."

Paul cracked an eye open and saw James hovering over him, fully dressed.

"What time is it?" he grumbled.

"It's almost noon," James laughed.

That didn't really surprise Paul, since he'd accustomed himself to staying up really late with James and sleeping in until the afternoon.

"Mm, okay. Well why are you all dressed?"

James sighed. "I know, huh. I broke our streak of not having to put on real clothes . . . but I gotta do some errands for my parents today."

"Oh?" Paul pulled the sheet back a little. He almost sat up, until he remembered he wasn't wearing his protective sweatshirt. Usually he waited till James was cooking breakfast to sneak it back on. "Well . . . do you want me to come?"

"Nah, I don't want you to get bored. I'll be back around six, okay? You can just relax here while I'm gone. And when I come back, we can do whatever you want. Watch some movies, play video games . . ."

Paul scratched his head. "Um . . . yeah, that's sounds good, but . . ."

"But?" James look concerned.

"Well I've had a really great time staying in with you, but I just thought, since this is our last full day together . . . maybe we could go out?"

James tapped his chin. "Yeah, I guess you're right. We haven't left the house at all, huh. Well, how about this . . . you sleep in, have whatever you like here for breakfast and lunch and when I come back we can go out to dinner, okay?"

Paul broke into an ear-to-ear grin. "Okay."

"Perfect." James leaned over and kissed him. "See you in a little while."

Pulling the sheets securely around him, Paul drifted back to sleep.


He woke up about an hour later, his stomach rumbling furiously. This would be the first afternoon since he'd arrived without a huge brunch spread, but he wasn't really worried. James had kept the kitchen well stocked.

He sat up and stretched with a giant yawn, causing his t-shirt to ride up well past his navel. With an absentminded tug he pulled it down, barely noticing that a few inches of tummy was still exposed.

He continued ignoring the hefty roll and bent over to retrieve a pair of socks from the floor. The seams on his pant strained as he did so, and for some strange reason, folding over like that left him feeling a little winded.

Standing up, he could feel the band of the pajama pants pinching at his hips, so he went to loosen the drawstring. His fingers fumbled around for a minute, but he couldn't find the string anymore.

Oh well, must've gotten caught up in the fabric when I slept, he thought.

He pulled at his t-shirt again, slouching a bit so it would cover more of his belly. But even with that effort, it still failed to meet the top portion of his pants, where his pockets gapped open and the stitching over his plump bottom was beginning to fray.

He waddled down the stairs, lost in a sleepy fog. By the time he reached the landing his shirt had ridden up once again, leaving his thick love handles hanging out.

Opening a pantry, Paul selected a box of chocolate covered donuts to eat. He devoured three while standing in the kitchen, then took the rest of the box with him to snack on as he plopped down on the couch to watch some TV.

The box was empty by the second commercial break. He tried to resist the urge to go and get more, but another more persistent voice in his head told him that there were so many boxes in the pantry, one more wouldn't be missed.

And he was on vacation. Once back at school, he'd worry about getting a handle on his eating habits. For now, he had two days left to enjoy, and he wanted to enjoy them to the fullest.

He began watching a Star Trek marathon with the second box in his lap. A good portion of his belly sat there as well, but he used the throw blanket on the couch to cover it up--out of sight, out of mind.

In about ten minutes the second container was gone as well, for as delicious as donuts were, they were not very filling. He wandered back into kitchen and perused the refrigerator, noting that it was now what he would consider lunch time. There were a lot of tasty treats to be had, but one new arrival in particular caught his eye. It was large, luscious-looking chocolate cake, sitting in a crystal platter. James must have taken it out of the freezer and placed it in there to defrost . . . maybe they'd get to eat it later that night, to celebrate their time together.

And it had been an absolutely magical time. Every night he'd gotten to kiss James--among other things--and every morning he'd woken up to James' smile, or to the smells of delicious food cooking. They'd spent every moment together, isolated from the rest of the world, and Paul was pretty sure that if they hadn't gotten bored of each other in all that time, it meant they had found something really special.

Thinking about James--and staring at that cake--made Paul hungry again for something sweet. He dug into a box of éclairs that James had had delivered the day before, licking his fingers as the creamy custard spilled out. But he also felt like should have something more lunch-worthy, so he popped a frozen pizza into the oven while eating his sixth éclair.

The pizza took far too long to warm up. Paul managed to leave three éclairs in the box, but that was only because he didn't think it'd be right to eat them all and leave none for James. As a reward to himself for his willpower, he opened a few packs of Twinkies and chowed down until his pizza was ready.

By the end of the second episode in the marathon, he'd eaten the whole large pizza and was now beginning to feel full. He wiggled his pajama bottoms down a little to try to avoid the pinch, then reclined on the couch. All the food had made him sleepy, and he dozed on and off for another hour with the sounds of spaceships in the background.

He awoke around four, once again to a growling tummy. Still sleepy, he gave his paunch a gentle pat. With all the snacking he'd been doing lately, his stomach was growing accustomed to a steady stream of food, and he was only too happy to oblige it.

Back to the kitchen he went, where he found a box of blueberry muffins, as well as some chocolate cupcakes to mollify him. The chocolate was especially important, since he still had the cake on his mind. If it hadn't looked so lovely sitting in its crystal case, he'd have definitely gone for a slice--but it seemed James was saving it for something special, and he didn't want to be rude.

By five o'clock he'd eaten two ham sandwiches and a bag full of microwave fries (to balance out all the sweets) and five more Twinkies (because he had to end on desert). He started to feel a little guilty when he realized he'd be going to dinner in an hour, and he hoped he hadn't spoiled his appetite.

Who am I kidding, he giggled a little as he stood. That would be rare feat, indeed.

Still, it was hard to ignore the fact that his shirt was fitting pretty poorly, and his chest was heaving with a little more breathlessness than usual when he climbed the stairs to James' room. But with only an hour to get ready, he didn't have time to think about it, so he quickly stripped and headed for the shower.

He let the water warm up for a while, keeping his back deliberately turned to the mirror. Once the temperature was right he stepped in, squeaking a little in shock when the widest part of his full belly touched the metal of the sliding glass shower door. It was quite cold, and he quickly patted the spot with warm water to rid himself of the sensation.

That set his stomach off in jiggling waves, which he could feel but thankfully not see as he had his eyes tightly shut under the oncoming stream of water.

He hummed to himself to keep up his spirits--shower time was definitely not one of his favorite times. No naked time was, in fact. He concentrated on James and the fun they'd had together to prevent his mind from dwelling on anything negative.

Soap in hand, he began to daydream about all the fun they'd continue to have . . . hopefully for a long time to come. With James by is side, Paul was pretty sure he could make more friends and have the type of college experience he'd always wanted. James really was the perfect boyfriend--caring, considerate, and apparently very tolerant of certain . . . flaws.

The soap slipped from Paul's hands just as he rubbed it over the arc of his stomach. Scowling at the interruption, he felt for it with his foot. He found it, then peered down to locate it visually, and was momentarily shocked when he could not see his toes.

Sucking his stomach in, he leaned over until he finally caught sight of them.

Must've been standing at the wrong angle, he told himself, but the voice of self-doubt was starting to grow stronger. He had to crouch a little to retrieve the soap bar, because there was no way he could bend over and reach his toes with so much stomach in the way.

Once he'd finished rinsing off, he slipped out of the shower, sucking in again to avoid rubbing against the shower door. He reached for one of James' extra fluffy towels and quickly draped it around himself.

Without any clothes to deaden the movement, the act of drying off made all of his flesh jiggle. The softness under his arms waved back and forth, his thighs and butt rippled, and his round stomach quivered. Paul put the towel away and wrapped his arms around his belly to stop some of the shaking, stepping out of the bathroom as quickly as possible so he could put his clothes back on.

As he walked he felt the weight of the fattened flesh in his hands, and he had to admit he'd definitely put on a few more pounds. But he couldn't let that bother him now. He had to get ready to go out, and James could be home any minute.

He yanked on his boxers, which were starting to ride up rather uncomfortably, then pulled his largest pants out from his bag and began hefting his bulk into them.

The first resistance he felt was when they reached his thighs. Cargo pants were not supposed to hug the legs so tightly, and he bit his lip as he struggled to get them up. His full stomach continued to shake with his efforts, and by the time he'd gotten the pants up he decided to wait a few seconds for his belly to return to a less wobbly state.

Once it had, he went for the button, and found it to be around three inches from meeting the hole. And that was when he was sucking in.

Of course, you're still full, he continued to try to rationalize. True panic hadn't quite set in, because in the past weeks of lounging in pajama bottoms, he'd gotten used to wearing his pants below the dome of his belly. He figured he could just do that again now.

He lowered the pants from his waist to his hips and gave shutting them another try. They looked a bit strange down there, but that wasn't the real problem. The real issue was his hips simply had no give. His ample rear and full upper thighs prevented the button from closing--and try as he might, he could not suck those parts in.

Now he knew he was in trouble. These were his largest pants, and not only had he grown too big for them, but possibly way too big for them.

Okay, you can handle this, he tried to cut off the sense of impending doom. Just suck in, you can do this.

Lifting the pants back up to his waist, he struggled with them until he was red in the face. Every time he exhaled the flaps flew even further apart, and inhaling got him no closer than he was before. Finally, nearly numb with the fear of what not fitting into those pants would mean, he lay back on the bed and squeezed and squished until he succeeded in getting them closed.

The zipper was another story. Fat surged through the open space, and any time he tried to zip up he caught the teeth in his tender belly, making him yelp in pain.

Sweating, he struggled to stand--another difficult task. He could barely breath with his pants on so tight, and bending was not an option. He shimmied forward on his back and pulled himself up by the headboard, hoping his weight would settle better once he was vertical.

The mirror caught his attention before he had a chance to look away, and he realized his muffin top was so extreme that even his sweatshirt wouldn't be able to mask it.

Exhausted and very near defeat, he sank back down onto the bed.


The button of his pants chose that moment to capitulate, popping off the pants and landing on the floor in front of him.

No, no, no, no . . .

And there it was, the plain, hard truth. He was much, much too fat for his pants.

He stripped off the onerous pants and threw them to the floor, tears welling in his eyes. This time, he didn't shy away from the mirror--he knew it was time to face facts.

His chunky thighs and butt had blown up and dimpled, and his pecs had become soft mountains of flesh that sat upon the most obvious signs of all his consumption--his enormous stomach.

When he was younger it had only been a few inches of pudge, curving slightly outward and making little rolls when he sat. But now--now it looked as if he'd been inflated like some kind of beach ball, because there was just no word to describe it other than round. His belly surged out and down over the edge of his boxers, wrapping around to thick love handles.

So fat, he thought weakly, running his hand over the blubbery flesh. Too fat. Too fat for your pants, too fat for James . . . too fat to be happy.

The tears began to pour out and he took off down the stairs, waddling as fast as his weight would allow. He dove into the pantry to pull out the first food he could find--a box of dingdongs--and ripped into it, frantically shoving each snack cake into his mouth.

He didn't stop there. Tears kept falling and in his hysteria nothing seemed to matter--he'd gotten huge and ruined his very first dinner date. Now James would know what an absolute wreck he was . . . and how undeserving he was of their relationship.

After finishing most of the snack food from the pantry he headed straight to the refrigerator.

He ate all the remaining éclairs and chugged a half-gallon of whole milk before his eyes landed on the cake.

To celebrate, he thought bitterly. Once they returned to school, James would go right back to ignoring the fat freshman he'd been nice to in secret for a few months. Paul was too fat to ever show his face with James in public, that was for sure.

He pulled the crystal cover off the dish and dug his hand into the chocolate, taking a hunk and stuffing it straight into his mouth. All the crying and eating was making his stomach cramp up, but he couldn't stop, and he grabbed handful after handful, getting fudge all over his hands and mouth and bloated belly.

He didn't even stop at the sound of keys in the door.

"Hey, Paul, I'm--"

James stopped mid-sentence, a look of shock and confusion on his face.

"What . . . what's going on? What's wrong, Paul?"

Paul kept crying, eating another chunk of cake.

"Paul, talk to me," James rushed over, concern and worry in his eyes. "What's happened?"

Paul just cried harder, and tried to stifle the sounds with more food.

"Stop eating like that," James begged.

At those words, Paul froze.

Finally. Finally James had said it--the words he should have said ages ago. Stop eating. Maybe he just hadn't understood how bad off Paul was, but he could see it plainly now, as Paul stood there in his boxers, covered in a chocolate mess with his flabby flesh exposed to the world.

Stop eating. If only he could've done that. But it was too late now, wasn't it? He'd ruined everything. James was probably so disgusted right now . . .

With a cry Paul flung himself away from the refrigerator, making off for the bathroom. He dropped onto the floor in front of the toilet, heart pounding into his ears and throat.

No, no, no, I don't want to lose James . . .

Maybe, maybe, if he could undo the damage he'd just done--maybe then James could see he was trying to make it better. Maybe then he could have one last chance.

He fearfully lifted his hand and prepared to stick it down his throat.

"Don't you dare do that!" James roared, grabbing him by his shoulders and yanking him upright. "Don't you ever do that to yourself!"

James shook him a few more times, and Paul stopped crying, but the moment he was still again he burst back into tears.

"Oh, Paul," James whispered, wrapping him in a tight hug. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry, teddy bear."

He pulled Paul over to the couch and set him down, then disappeared for a moment. When he returned he had a wet washcloth in his hand, and he used it to gently wipe the sticky mess from Paul's face and hands, and his stomach as well.

Paul stared down in shock as James' hand traversed the rolls of his belly.

"Can you talk to me now? Tell me what's wrong?" James prodded gently.

Paul blinked a few times. He couldn't even begin to explain what was going on his head. "M-my stomach hurts," was all he managed to say.

James nodded. "Lie down," he coaxed, settling Paul's head into his lap. "Poor thing. If you're gonna eat till your tummy hurts then you should be enjoying it, you know?"

Paul closed his eyes and kept them tightly shut when he felt James' hand drift down over his belly. Normally that would have mortified him, but at the moment he was too exhausted to care.

James began to rub his stuffed stomach in slow circles. It hurt a little at first, but after a while the sensation calmed him and he was able to drift off to sleep.

Last edited by Lou Grant; 06-07-2011 at 03:17 AM.
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Old 06-07-2011, 07:37 AM   #24
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Novelist has said some nice things

This was a nice surprise to wake up to! Great chapter! Poor Paul. Awww, the ending is just too adorable.
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Old 06-10-2011, 11:07 AM   #25
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Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.

Somehow I hadn't read this story before now.....wow, what a treat to have so many chapters to enjoy! Fantastic writing, and the characters feel so believable.

I'm looking forward to more!
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
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