BOTH "525" - by agouderia (SSBHM, ~XWG, ~BBW, Dining)

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agouderia

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Kicking off and getting going as well as breaking and stopping the bike were a challenge at his weight, but once he was literally rolling it was a most enjoyable form of exercise. The pedaling of his legs mobilizing his lower back muscles made his super-sized love handles role over ponderously increasing the bouncing and swaying of his huge gut against the thick steel bar. The regular movement of his heavy bulk, especially with his stomach comfortingly filled, not stuffed as it was now, had an enormously reassuring feel for him, as if he had limitless reservoirs of energy to tap into as long as he ate well and kept going.

On returning from France, he had immediately used the ego boost the trip had given him to see Brett Norton, the lawyer recommended by Mary Helen, to take care of clarifying his professional situation with Warren and the division of their business partnerships. After mandating Norton, he had regretted the decision at least a million times – it seemed so thoroughly wrong to communicate and negotiate business with Warren via an attorney. But once you have the lawyers in, things develop a dynamic of their own as he was to notice, turning it into an official legal conflict, no longer a business matter between two individuals.

Norton had suggested it might be meaningful to actually do a round-table talk on the division of the assets with Warren and his attorneys, since in his opinion Christopher’s offer for bakery and deli had been more than fair and reasonable. Only to then find out that he had trouble finding anyone to talk to on the Langdon side about the issue. Warren stoutly refused all communication, did not respond at all – and it was because Christopher knew the name of the law firm representing the Langdon group did they manage to have a point of contact at all. Somehow the Langdon attorneys must in the end have convinced Warren that he simply couldn’t ignore the issue endlessly, so he had given his financial representative power of authority to handle the deal.

Christopher knew if it hadn’t been for Brett Norton’s cool headed professional management, he would have back-tracked several times and let the whole affair rest, leave it in limbo until Warren signaled he was willing to deal with it. Yet in the end, he was relieved and even felt muted pride as he looked at the deeds confirming his personal ownership of the bakery and deli when Norton brought them over one sunny evening.

Sitting out on the terrace of the deli with a celebratory bottle of champagne and sea food tapas, he grinned: “Cheers, here’s to great further success of what is now 100% your business Christopher. Though I don’t have an instant of doubt that it’ll be hugely successful – the stuff you produce is just too damn tasty! Do you know I’ve actually gained 13 pounds since you walked into our firm? My wife has started stocking up our fridge with diet shakes. I understand a lot better now why you didn’t manage to stick to that diet.”

“Thank you Brett for making it possible,” he raised his glass, sincerely thankful for Norton’s work and also tact in handling the emotionally difficult situation with his issues with Warren and his weight. Mary Helen must have given him an excellent briefing because he had never made him go into uncomfortable details in explaining his case.
“Diets are not my thing, you’re right. Especially not if I have to do it under pressure. I’m honestly relieved, we’ve made it this far. I think being hugely successful with food is something I have the makings for,” he grimaced with a shake of his flab. “Now I can make my own decisions; develop new concepts for the bakery and deli… Have you tried our new beer garden?”

“Don’t get me going on that! At least six of these pounds are courtesy of your brat sausages with beer and the thick pretzels – obscenely good!” Norton slapped his minuscule hint of a pot belly and took a tuna and spinach role with another swig of champagne.

“Yeah, the success has been almost a bit overwhelming…”

“What we have not achieved though, you know that – is to solve the issue with the hotel. Langdon and his attorneys are still totally irresponsive regarding you buying the hotel or officially accepting your resignation as director of the ‘Langdon Residency’. We’ve discussed that, to make sure you’re on the safe side, you’ll file your resignation again with date and take your official farewell from the hotel immediately….”


Puffing up the hill, his calves and thighs lightly burning to move the combined weight of his body and the extra heavy duty bike up the slope this conversation and it’s follow up went into rewind in his head. Until this day he hadn’t manned up and actually left the hotel. His note of resignation was still in his locked top desk drawer, although no longer at the top of his daily pile of papers.
For the first 10 days after Norton had brought the signed contracts, he had printed out his resignation every day, dated and signed it to then start practicing his resignation speech for the hotel staff in front of the mirror. Calling his attempts a ‘speech’ might even be a tall order – he never got any further than sentence five before his voice cracked or he had to close his eyes with emotion. Then he’d always had to have a big breakfast or lunch to calm down, tore up the notice and told himself he’d definitely summon the courage to get it over with tomorrow.

As a consequence of the change in ownership of the deli and deli bistro, all the job contracts of the employees had to be redone, since it no longer was an extension to the hotel. Brett Norton found a silky smooth legal way of formulating this in writing to raise no suspicion. So he threw a small party for everyone to celebrate the first year anniversary of the deli bistro and handed out the new contracts with a small humorous statement. Nobody seemed to think much of it – all employees were reassured that they would keep their jobs and him as a boss, so there was little interest in the legal details.

Naturally his fearful premonition that Claire might smell the rat, figuratively speaking, did hold true – she tended to see through such maneuvers. Marcus had once said he couldn’t even hide being upset about something as menial as a speeding ticket from her.
The next morning she was in his hotel office with her new, improved contract including a considerable pay rise and a commission bonus with worry written all over her face: “Christopher, please be honest with me – does this change in contract mean you’re leaving the Langdon group? Have you and Warren broken up? Does it have something to do with the fact that you’ve given up on the diet for months now?”

His face flamed as he looked down on the full curve of his stomach not able to meet her eye. “Hmmm … well … it’s just, a legal requirement … well ….”

“Christopher, please! Tell me the truth!”

Looking into those sincere dark blue eyes of hers, he couldn’t reiterate the well practiced legal phrasing Norton had prepared for him. Not to Claire, not after everything she’d always done for him. “Yeah, that’s more or less it. I’ve bought out Warren’s shares in the bakery and deli, am now sole owner. So if you’re okay with it, I’m your one and only boss now in the deli bistro.”

“You’ve always been my only real, favorite boss – you know that,” Claire said softly, leaning against him stroking his cheek. “Poor Christopher, dividing up the business must’ve been hard for you – I know you and Langdon had more than a CEO – senior executive relationship. At least you’re no longer torturing yourself with that awful diet. What about the hotel? Did Langdon fire you?”

Her knack for asking the really uncomfortable questions was daunting. “No – nor have I officially resigned to date. That is all still up to negotiating – outcome open. But please, this is confidential, only between you and me.
Don’t tell anyone, not even Marcus – promise, okay?”

“Of course I promise, you know you can trust me. Well, we’ll wait and see what happens, then. If they’re some new developments – I’d be grateful if you’d inform me, you know, because of Marcus… After all, he has a contract with the hotel ….”


Being honest about his situation with Claire somehow unburdened him, making him decide to really wait and see what happened. If Warren wanted him to leave the Langdon Residency, he’d have to kick him out, do the dirty work of telling the staff himself. He wanted to stay in the hotel, buy it – and he asked Norton, how to go about this, who only groaned. “Langdon and you are both nut cases. You and your hotels belong together, so sit down, talk everything over – even though I can see the non-communication is not your fault. This dividing everything up is absurd. There is no certain way for you to keep running the Langdon Residency without risking liability issues under the present circumstances. And I have no precedents to offer for such a bizarre case, so it could go anywhere.”

In the end, Norton suggested the arrangement of him signing on better, very expensive professional liability insurance coverage and having his hotel salary paid to a trustee account, in case that was ever contested. Since the bakery and deli were doing so well, now were fully his assets and the loans he had to service were not too crushing, he paid himself the salary he needed for running his life and apartment from their revenue instead, thankful he was independent enough to do so.

Although this objectively solved nothing, there still was the uncomfortable radio silence with the Langdon headquarters, it somehow put lock and key on the issue for him and freed him look ahead, make plans and work hard on advancing ‘his’ business. The most recent developments with the beer garden, a new bakery summer outlet down by the river showed the best prospects and inspired him to look about for other ways to generate more business. The word ‘diet’ had been transferred to his personal taboo list, but he tried hard to eat well, stick to only three meals a day, giving into the temptations of 5 meals only once or twice a week after having rescheduled their restaurant and bakery planning cycle.
Being out in the open, with lots of fresh air, helped clear his head, so pedaling towards the market puffing lightly, a fresh breeze on his hot cheeks, his belly swaying and bouncing rhythmically made him feel calm and content, despite the humidity and the looming dark clouds.

Lately he had even had the nerve to take a second look at an interesting woman, which he took as a very good sign for his own well-being. Charlene Mintner was the new creative director of one of the event planning agencies they worked with: Not only was she truly creative, but also a lively red-head with abundant curls and promising curves. Her backside was maybe not as spectacular as the one he was ogling right now on reaching the market, distracting him for a second so he didn’t see the small curb letting him almost bump into the appealing rear and come crashing down with his bike.

With much luck he managed to catch his fall, land with both feet on the ground, the bike only hitting the inside of his thighs hard in falling. “Ouch … shit, shit, shit… ouch!”

“Excuse me, are you hurt? … Oh, Christopher … why hello … how are you, are you hurt?” On turning the spectacular backside proved to be attached to Stephanie, who blushed crimson yet stretched out a hand to help him steady himself with the bike. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, I’m fine. Probably just a bruise. How are you Stephanie?” He felt his own face flame too, and his defenses go up. As much as her visuals in a fitted black jeans dress still instantly turned him on, remembering his last encounters with her put him on his guard and unwillingly brace himself for another mental slap in the face. After her non-sequitur at the cheese tasting, she had sent him a formulaic e-mail apology but he had been too put off by her erratic behavior to respond.

“Fine, thank you,” followed by an awkward silence. “You look really good, healthy, full of energy,” she finally said.

“Yeah, I feel fine – it’s been a good summer so far.” Another uncomfortable pause followed.

“I didn’t know you biked. That’s very good for you.”

“N… a friend of mine from France found this model for me. I thought I was too heavy to bike for many years. But this is a Flemish postal service bike – it carries up to 350 kilograms. So I’ll be fine with it for quite a while,” patting his belly reassuringly,” despite having undone some of my so-called diet success again.” He grinned at her, half provocatively, half insecurely.

“Great bike for you, really.” More silence fell between them.

“Well, good seeing you … looks like it’ll start raining soon, I need to do my shopping.., bye.”

“Yeah, nice seeing you too….” He had already turned to find a spot to lock up his bike as he heard Stephanie say in a small voice: “Christopher, I’m so sorry. I behaved like an absolute idiot the last times with you. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“It’s okay, forget about it. It’s fine, things like that can happen,” he sighed, hoping she’d let it rest.

“No, my behavior was personally and professionally impossible, I’m so sorry. I let some of my own issues out on you, you didn’t deserve that…”

“Stephanie, don’t worry. It’s over and done with. My own behavior could’ve been better, too.” He turned to his bike again, fiddled with the lock.

“It’s truly so good to see you so active and healthy again. When Claire came for you file, telling me how sick you were – I felt so guilty! I knew I should’ve helped you …. but I was so afraid of going through everything again…. You were so nice then to invite me to the great cheese tasting and I freaked… I’m so sorry…”

“As I said, it’s okay. Forget it. You don’t need to apologize again.”

“But I’d like you to understand, be able to accept my apology,” she looked at him with such anguish in her eyes he halted and nodded slowly at her. With a small relieved smile, she continued: “I’m not totally crazy. It’s just … with Timmy’s death … yeah; many things still aren’t back to normal for me. At the cheese tasting, such a nice event. And when everybody said I was your plus1 – it felt like a sort of date. I’ve never been on a date before… I suddenly realized I didn’t know what to do, how to handle the situation ..…”

“You’d never been on a date before?” he stared at her in disbelief, this being the most unexpected explanation. “Ummm …. but you were married…. And it wasn’t that much of a date ….“

“Still, I’d never been on a real date … there never was anybody else in my life except Timmy. I’d known him for as long as I could think. Sure, in high school, we officially dated. But it never felt like dating. It was just Timmy and me doing something together. When we were five, we went to the playground and for ice cream at the corner shop together. At fifteen, it was movies and burger place. And at twenty-five it was engagement party and wedding chapel. What it was called didn’t matter. It simply stayed Timmy and me together….,” she looked at him sadly, shrugging her shoulders. “So I’m still in the process of figuring out how to do things on my own … or maybe with somebody else.”
With another deep breath she half turned: “Well, as I said, I’m really sorry I let it out on you. Good seeing you, have a nice weekend.”

As she started to walk off, looking so small and vulnerable, despite her shapely buttocks dancing in rhythm under her dress, he could almost feel a small crack in his resentment open. “Stephanie, wait! What are you doing today?”

“Um … today? Nothing … why?” she looked puzzled.

“Well, since a thunderstorm is coming, I planned to do a cooking experimental afternoon with Moroccan tajines – try a little bit of fusion there. Just need to finish shopping for ingredients here, you know I live around the corner – would you like to join me? Shall we cook together? I remember that one Saturday we did that as the best day of my diet…,” he felt himself redden again, but smiled at her openly.

She looked at him in surprise before she smiled too: “Sounds like a very nice idea. Thank you for another great invitation, I owe you a lot.”

After quickly buying his list of ingredients the first thunder was rolling by the time they left the market and it was pouring when they reached his front door, both of them soaking wet. In a fleeting moment of embarrassment he became aware how the wet t-shirt look must bring out every single one of his roles and bulges while Stephanie’s soaked jeans dress outlining her pointed nipples and curvy hips was definitely more in the steamy dream department.

“Sorry Christopher, but I’m soaked. I guess we’ll have to postpone the cooking. I need to get back to my car, drive home and change.”

“Where did you park your car?”

“On the other side of the market – almost at the old shopping center.”

“That’s a twenty minute walk from here; you’ll be wetter than wet by the time you get there. And calling a cab is useless. In this rain and area it’ll take over half an hour before they get here. You can dry up in my apartment – and I can assure you one of my shirts is as good as three dresses on you…,” he teasingly plucked at his clinging huge polo.

Settling a stammering and blushing Stephanie in the guest bathroom with an assortment of towels and shirts he quickly showered, changed and was already in the kitchen with a hot coffee ready as she joined him. She looked incredibly cute in one of his tent like black-and-white pin stripe button downs she had opted for, tightly belted under her breasts and knotted at the hips to make the fabric masses manageable and outline her shapely plumpness.

“Wow, I never knew one of my shirts could look so good and stylish…,” he involuntarily felt his face grow hot as he handed her the coffee.

“Thanks. It’s a really nice shirt. Fabric feels great – and it’s cozy to wrap myself up in it..,” she blushed too, looking at him uneasily.

Then they set to work with the various tajine dishes, making one with only vegetables, one with sea food, one with chicken and one with lamb. Working so closely next to Stephanie left him conflicted. On one hand, her warm closeness, the smell of her hair, her naughty little laugh, alone of her physical presence led to automatic physical responses of his body he had a hard time controlling, wanting to forget himself, move in closer, touch her, kiss her…. On the other hand, his most recent experiences with her left him tense, expecting some irrational behavior any minute or wondering what she might think of having his again notably fatter belly so close to her, whether that disgusted her or made her view him with disdain for being so unable to control his diet…

As their dishes were in the oven, he suggested to ease the tension: “How about an aperitif – a summery Italian Apérol drink, with Prosecco and fresh orange juice?”

“Never had it before, would love to taste it.”

Handing her the glass, his stomach growled demandingly, reminding him that he had been suppressing hunger for some time already. “Would it be okay if I made us some hors d’oeuvres while we wait for the tajines to bake?”

“Great idea, you sound hungry – and I am too. You did a very good job in not snacking while preparing the food.”

Oh shit no, please no diet talk, he prayed inwardly, feeling himself flush very disagreeably. “Well … yeah … I try to eat only at meals …. be sensible … well … not very successful … food too good … as you can see…,” he stammered before hiding his head in the refrigerator to take out various things.

“Christopher, I’m not here as your nutritionist. I didn’t want to start any diet talk. All I tried was to … well … somehow … let you know that what you’re doing is okay. After all, we’re here to cook and eat together, aren’t we?” She drained her cocktail. “This stuff is awfully addictive…”

“And it’s on the light and healthy side, since it’s only made with wine and bitter, no hard liquor,” he gave her a relieved smirk, handing her a second drink before quickly fixing the first bites to eat.

Food and drink quickly smoothed out the awkwardness in their interaction. It’s easier to bridge a silence in chewing and swallowing, indulging in the flavors and textures of the food tickling tongue and palate. He could feel himself relax as the warmth of wine and the tajines filled his stomach, cherishing the gentle swelling of his vast paunch as it was filled with serious quantities of food. Smiling over to Stephanie, who seemed to be indulging herself too by taking another very full serving spoon of the lamb tajine and looked ravishing as one button of his shirt had undone itself to show off more of the full curve of her breasts, as he was telling her about how he had had the idea for the beer garden and its success.

“Oh, I’ve heard it’s great. Jason and his college mates are totally crazy about it. Of course they’re all working on your beer keg challenge,” she laughed. “As a nutritionist I highly approve you linked the beer keg to salad consumption – even the FDA would support that.”

“I find it very unjust that salads get such bad rep as being seen mainly as diet food. They’re fresh, offer fabulous options for very tasty combinations. It’s unfair to denounce them as ‘health food’ aka boring, tasteless, disliked and such,” sending Stephanie choking with laughter and making his belly flab jiggle most delightfully as he had to chime in.

As Stephanie insisted on helping him clear the kitchen, she entertained him with stories from accompanying her grandmother to Florida because she had decided she now was ‘old’ and should have a secondary home in some senior citizen resort. “Some of the things that go on there are really sad, like people who are dying all alone, whose family has fallen apart and no one comes. Others, like the odd dating rituals with one man for every five women are simply hilarious.”

“What’s wrong with one man and five women – sounds like a good ratio…”

“Okay, now you owe me a $ 5 fine for the chauvinist remark of the day,” she grinned, slapping him with a dish towel. “Thankfully my grandmother decided that she couldn’t stand being around ‘old’ people all day. Jason and I were tremendously relieved; we’d miss her so much…”

“You’re really close to her, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, always have been. Somehow, I don’t know why, she’s always been much more important to us than our parents. But you know the special connect between grandparents and -children – we definitely have that.”

Returning to the living room with coffee, Stephanie suddenly sighed. “You’re such a nice guy when you’re well fed,” patting the side of his belly triggering some pronounced jiggles. “I wish … well … we’d met under different circumstances … things hadn’t gone so wrong … are so complicated. That we could’ve just been friends…”

“Friends … yeah, that would’ve been better… could we still be friends?”
 

agouderia

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504 …. the reading on his scale showed, involuntarily making a pleasant warmth start to crawl through his body as he patted the farthest point of his bulging belly, hunger in combination with a greedy appetite surfacing. Stepping down from the scale he bounced a bit on the balls of his feet, setting the hundreds of pounds of his belly mass off into long stretched, tumultuous vibrations almost knocking him off his feet and sending shock waves of arousal to his nether parts; so bad he had to give himself a quick squeeze to calm down. He was running late -and he absolutely did not want to have to reflect on why the discovery he had eaten his way back over 500 pounds led to such violent outbursts of auto-eroticism.

Quickly he waddled bare foot into the kitchen and made himself a 6 double-waffle batch with Stephanie’s good healthy recipe, topped with fresh strawberries and the deli’s vanilla yoghurt cream to enjoyably devour them on the balcony with coffee. The feeling of deep physical contentment surfaced again as he tenderly fondled the light puff the waffles had made in his upper belly, closing his eyes to fully concentrate on the gentle quivers.

Dressing for his business meetings in the sleek dark gray suit he had bought for last year’s 4th July, he saw with fascination how tight it had gotten: The waist band was strained and trapped between two roles, one bulging thickly over the top, underneath it the zipper struggled tautly over the spherical roundness of his lower belly. Slapping this lower belly curve quite hard, the again resulting ripples and waves renewed the feelings of lusty pleasure. Buttoning the suit coat only worked with the top two buttons, but this brought out the dimensions of his girth very convincingly.

Pushing this girth through the park on the sunny morning, feeling its weight roll and sway taking the longer path in the shade to not get too hot increased the sense of physical over alertness that had hit him. The rustle of the leaves in the slight breeze, the quacking quarrel between two ducks on the small lake, the warm rays of sunshine making their way through the trees and the distant sound of a police car reached his senses in amplification completing the picture of complacent normality that his mind set had gradually returned to. After having spent yesterday in his new office at the bakery, he genuinely looked forward to going to the hotel again today with the tasks, meetings and people awaiting him there.

Heeding Brett Norton’s warning and to avoid the unpleasant surprise of being ‘office less’ should Warren kick him out of his hotel office one day after all, he had set up a nice new one for himself above the bakery. It had mentally and psychologically made dividing the two businesses a lot easier – and designing and furnishing the new office without having to stick to the style of the Langdon hotels had been fun and inspiring. Through Stephanie’s contacts – her uncle had a small building company – he found a great young carpenter to custom make some furniture to comfortably fit his size. It had been an exhilarating experience to be able to settle his massive body on an office chair that served it like a throne, increasing his sense of empowerment. The preceding negotiations with the carpenter – a gruff, very quiet, hefty young giant – had been on the bizarre side, since he seemed much more embarrassed by Christopher’s size than he himself was. The carpenter had been extremely squeamish in measuring the width of his mega ass or the depth of his bulk and had fussed around endlessly with the statics of the chairs before finally almost choking in admitting that he’d have to insert some steel trusses and brackets because of his weight. The result was fantastic –and he personally didn’t care which and how much material was needed, as long as it supported him safely and comfortably.


“Good morning Christopher, what a beautiful sunny day. You look very good and full satisfied.”

“Yes, it’s wonderful today – and full satisfied describes how I feel perfectly. As always, you look blonde and lovely Meret,” he smiled at her, amused at how her not 100% idiomatic English often nailed the essence better than correct wording would.

“Good news – VikingTours has reserved for 2 more weeks of the Revolutionary America package – so we’re booked out for those weeks too!”

“Fantastic job!”

“Here’s your mail Christopher,” Tricia handed him a pack. “I’ll come up with you right away with the booking overview – if that’s okay. We need a few decisions on cancelling booking options.”

In the elevator, he rested his belly on the hand rail as usual after turning the private key.

“Meret is an absolute jewel,” Tricia enthused uncharacteristically. “I’m glad you forced me to take her on as an intern – she’s still studying but has more knowledge and talent with guest management than anybody else I’ve ever seen on the job.”

“See – I told you she’d be perfect. I immediately noticed she really knows how to bring out the best in people.”

“You were right, sorry I doubted your judgment. It was just a bit odd you insisted on giving one of our tremendously sought after summer internships to some random Dutch girl you’d met on a hike in France. And thank god the continental academic year doesn’t start until end of September. Can’t you get her to stay on, so we can fire Walter?”

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t do that – she has to finish her diploma first. She’ll get it next April – and you can be assured I’m offering her the job here immediately.”

Over a cup of coffee he discussed the booking with Tricia, then went through the regular and e-mail before opening the folder he had brought along with a deep breath. Inside was his bid for renting out the two big store fronts on the street-side ground floor of the ‘Langdon Imperial Residency’ for opening an outlet of Maynard’s bakery and deli bistro. The idea was not new: he had wanted it for the bakery even before his diet - and for the deli bistro last fall – because he saw that the concept of luxury boutiques and jewelers no longer worked well in the troubled economy.

Warren had had a succession of unsuccessful tenants yet continued stating a store that sold anything eatable did not match the standard of a truly first class hotel and would only take business from the hotel restaurant. He agreed with Warren that any store on the hotel’s premises had to be truly first class – but it was perfectly okay if it sold first class food. And his experiences showed that it did not take business away from the restaurant – on the contrary, it generated more business. It kept people who would normally go out to smaller restaurants, fast food joints or shops to buy a small, quick and cheaper bite to eat at the hotel. Why go out for a sandwich if you could buy one from the best bakery in town in the hotel building? Or get one of the tastiest salads to go?

While they were on speaking terms, he had never managed to convince Warren of this model. Now he had heard through the grape vine that Warren was desperately looking for longer term solvent tenants to set up business in the store fronts of the ‘Imperial’, so he had written an – in his and Brett Norton’s opinion – excellent proposal: To make up for the investments necessary, he proposed a share in profits instead of a high monthly rent payment. The papers had been finalized for quite some time – and today, looking through them one more time, he was confident enough that it was worth a try.

Taking a last sip of coffee he with a flourish signed the papers and put them in the envelope, realizing in surprise that the subconsciously calming wobbling of his belly flab was the result of his inadvertently tapping his left heel while he had been reading. To make the most of his momentary assertiveness high, he quickly threw the envelope in the old mail slide to make sure it was actually sent off, not leaving it sitting for even longer than he already had. Maybe the business approach was a good way of getting back in contact with Warren.

Even though he was far from hungry, a wicked, insistent tingle of appetite started tickling him, like a little itch at the rear of his palate, where it merged into his throat, making him salivate. It urgently begged to be satisfied with the flavor and texture of delicious food, the reassuring motions of biting, chewing, sucking and swallowing. Looking at his office clock, it was already 10:40, time to go down to the restaurant kitchen for their sample tasting – the perfect way of appeasing that rearing appetite.


Coming to the kitchen, everything was ready; everybody was waiting for him, only Paul was nowhere to be seen. “Where is the chef himself?”

“He called and said he’d cook his samples at home and bring them along…,” Marcus responded.

“Well, then he should be here by now … it’s 10:45 and I only have until 12:00. He knows that.” After taking off his coat and tie, rolling up his sleeves and wrapping his over sized apron around himself, he said: “Okay, let’s get started. Marcus, please explain what you have planned so far for this week.”

“Since it’s really summery and warm, I opted for classical dishes of summer cuisine – in part with a new interpretation. Two chilled soups – Spanish Gazpacho with grilled shrimp and French Vichyssoise in a lighter version with a touch of cilantro and yoghurt.”

Tasting both soups, he asked for a round of comments from the other members of the kitchen equipe before saying anything, because this brought out more honest and diverse results. “Okay, I’m fully convinced of this version of the Vichyssoise, great mix. As some others have pointed out, the shrimp with the Gazpacho is okay, but not perfect. How about either rosemary breadsticks wrapped in Jámon Iberico or little Manchego crisps – I can give you a recipe – to go with the Gazpacho, depending on whether guests want meat or not?”

“Sure, I can see that tasting good and being popular. I had opted for the shrimp because now in summer I wanted the fancier main courses to center on fish and sea food, like the classic Lobster Thérmidor as prime offer. People tend to prefer that to meat cuisine in summer.”

“I totally agree. To make use of the idea of grilled shrimp – how about offering them as an appetizer? Like as grilled shrimp kebabs with basil mayonnaise foam on iced cherry tomato salad? Shall we try making that right now?”

They had already gone through all menu options, were about to start on the desserts when the door opened and Paul came in, followed by what had to be a cab driver who hauled in some kitchen Styrofoam boxes.

“Paul, it’s already 11:40 – you’re an hour late. You know my time is limited today to 12:00. What’s in the boxes?”

“The boxes contain the menu samples for the coming week.”

“I’m sorry; we’re more or less done with selecting the menu. I don’t have the time to start over. It would’ve been easier if you had prepared your samples here in the kitchen.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong – I am the chef here. Isn’t it my job to decide on the menu of the week?”

“Of course you’re the chef and you decide on the menu. But you offered no suggestions at the scheduled time. Why didn’t you prepare them here, I don’t understand that? This is not your private restaurant, but part of the hotel. Your menus and planning have to fit into the demands and budgeting of the hotel’s bookings, you know that.”

“Well, how am I supposed to be creative, cook haute cuisine in this cramped place? Whenever I turn, I bump into the big fat gut of my sous-chef! With Claire it was so different…”

“I think you owe Marcus an apology,” he observed, folding his hands protectively over his own protuberance, seeing Marcus had turned red with mortification, sucked in his gut and visibly shrunk.

“Why did you take Claire from me? I can’t cook top cuisine without the support I need! Haute cuisine is about the art of the preparation, the perfection of the presentation – not about actually eating it, wolfing it down until you’re too fat to fit in the kitchen…”

Taking a deep breath to stay calm, he wanted to try and keep this argument on the professional level: “Paul, I have a different approach. You knew that when you signed on here and you’ve been working with it well. Yes, haute cuisine is about preparation and presentation, doing the utmost justice to the ingredients. But it’s also about savoring the excellent food, letting it create a joined experience of pleasure, improving the communicative environment of the likeminded you share it with. Cooking and eating should be holistic, shared events. In my humble opinion applying this philosophy has made this kitchen and restaurant so successful.” Before Paul could get a word in, he finished. “I promoted Claire to the deli because of the excellent work she was doing here. She deserved to reap her own laurels, be more than the back up for yours.”

“Claire belongs here, belongs to me! She was only deluded by the atmosphere here! You don’t do haute cuisine to get hugely fat! Haute cuisine is about denying yourself the pleasure for the sake of the art! Claire needed more time, more training with me to learn and understand that! It isn’t normal, professional to eat all the food, turn into a lard balloon! She just didn’t see that because you’re the boss. And now that fat f*** here has ensnared her, is ruining my kitchen with his simplistic gluttony cuisine…,” shooting Marcus, who looked like he was about the crumble a glance so full of hate he was truly shocked.

“Paul – enough!” Other hot words bumbled to his mouth, but he easily swallowed them. As insulting as Paul’s rant was, it didn’t get to him – it so far had been such an inspirational, positive day. He could stay detached; see it for what it was: An unmasked outburst of pure jealousy for his superior position and Marcus’ happy relationship with Claire – things that clearly didn’t fit into Paul’s world view of the adequate place for fat guys in life.

“I can’t work with this incompetent personal any longer! I’m resigning if he doesn’t go! I have so many offers; maybe even an investor for a restaurant of my own!”

“How wonderful for you, Paul,” he stated. “Since I don’t intend to fire Marcus, I accept your resignation. Good luck with your own restaurant; there you can live out your cuisine philosophy!”


As he entered the deli bistro for his meeting with Charlene, Claire was waiting for him at the entrance. “Christopher, I heard what happened in the kitchen. Paul is definitely leaving?”

“Yeah, I’m accepting his resignation, even though he just tried to back track. But since there were so many witnesses’ it saves me the pain of firing him,” he sighed. “It’s not great timing, but over all it’s the best and overdue solution. His talents don’t make up for his deficits any longer – and his lashing out at Marcus and me today was an absolute no go. Using you as a pretext was even worse.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Well – if I knew you’re interested, I’d offer you the job – but somehow I get the sense that you’d turn it down…”

“You’re right – and pretty observant for a guy, if I may say so. I don’t want it.”

“Because of Marcus? Do you want to give him a better chance?”

“Actually no, that’s not the reason. I truly love being chef here of the deli and deli-bistro. Top notch regular cuisine actually is more my thing than 5* restaurant haute cuisine, I’ve found that out. I have so many more options to be creative here, like matching the food with design or event themes, doing special catering packages. Thank you for giving me all this freedom, responsibility and trust …. you’re such a good boss. That’s another reason by the way – I prefer a contract with you to one with the Langdon group where I don’t know how things will develop…”

He was touched and bent down to give her a soft kiss on the forehead. “I don’t know how I deserve you – thank you so much. We’ll figure something out for the restaurant, also to make the most of Marcus’ talents, don’t worry.”

Claire turned very pink with pleasure and smiled shyly. “Charlene Mintner is already waiting for you; I set up your table on the rear terrace to the park, a little secluded behind the flower pots so you’ll have peace and quiet to work. Go around through the outside passage, that’s easier than this packed seating we need to half-way meet demand,” acknowledging that his bulk would have trouble squeezing through some of the aisles.

Reaching the table, Charlene was already nibbling on an assortment of bread and vegetable sticks with creamy dips. “Lovely seeing you Charlene – sorry I don’t have much time today. But you insisted you wanted to show me some new event concepts as soon as possible…”

“Thank you for taking the time out of a busy day..” as Claire arrived with 2 small casseroles, setting them in front of them: “Today’s special – baked fennel stuffed with spinach, tomato, ricotta and goat’s cheese. Charlene asked me to decide for both of you. I hope you like it, bon appétit!”

“Claire thank you, I don’t need it. We’ve just done the sampling … and I have an official business lunch in an hour….”

“Oh, but I want you to taste this new combination …I’d like your opinion on it. And you’ve certainly got some room for this little dish to fit!” she playfully undid the straining top button of his suit coat and fondled his belly, making him redden: “Okay, a small bite. Looks like it’s indulgence day today…”

Naturally he finished the whole dish – alone to stop ogling Charlene’s very appetizing cleavage while she explained to him her idea of the deli catering for some their special wedding events, a new service of theirs. The concepts sounded quite promising; he’d have to look at them in detail with Claire. “Oh, I just got the message my lunch meeting is half an hour late. May I treat you to coffee and a little delicacy from the bakery?”

“Those delicacies from your bakery are my downfall – they’re way too good!” Charlene rolled her eyes and twirled a coppery curl. “Do you know that I’ve gone up two cups sizes and three inches in my waist since I’ve moved here?”

“I didn’t know that – but all I can say is I highly approve of the results I can see,” he gave her breasts threatening to bust a pressured button on her dress a rakish smile. “We only make best quality, finest ingredients, many of them organic… they’re good for you.”

“Way, way, way too good! Every morning I tell myself that I’ll resist, not go get a croissant, or a pain au chocolate or a pumpkin seed role with ham and cheese … but mostly I do. Even if I don’t succumb in the morning, I’ll cave in at lunch with a quiche, or a baguette or an éclair… or … where’s that supposed to end?”

“Admittedly – it can end with many more inches around your waistline if you spend your life around our bakery,” he smirked, outlining his expanse with two fingers, using the opportunity to loosen the tight waist band of his pants.

“An impressive number of inches, indeed.” Charlene eyed his super-sized middle with a friendly grin. “But you really wear them well … like they’re comfortable where they’ve settled…”

“If you’d like to get more of an insight into our bakery, I’d be happy to give you a tour some day. Maybe cook you a special dinner afterwards. Would you be interested?”

“Sounds fabulous, that’ll add at least another inch to my waistline,” she winked at him. “Name the day when it would be convenient for you in the bakery – and I’ll see that I fit it in.”

“So which delicacy can I treat you to right now?”

“My current summer favorite is your new Cherry Cosmopolitan gateau…”
 

agouderia

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Despite the incident with Paul, he was in his very best, well-fed, expansively confident mood on seeing Charlene off and going to his official lunch meeting with the representatives of several Asian Tour operators. As he greeted them, standing in front of them in his full height, width and depth, he could notice them staring at his size in disbelief – but that was understandable given the contrast since hardly any of them even reached his shoulder.

After the polite introductions as they were seated at the table, Marcus – calmer, more confident and professional than he had feared – explained the menu around the theme of traditional American cooking with a vegetable, fish and meat course with some Asian touches to it.

During the first three courses, everybody mainly ate and only made polite small talk, which was somewhat inhibited by having to use the interpreters because over half the representatives were not comfortable in using English. For dessert – knowing from experience with Asian delegations that their tastes and habits with sweets varied strongly – there were mixed platters with tasting spoon size servings of their best seasonal creations, mainly on the fruity side which he explained himself.

Before and during dessert was the accepted time to talk about business again, so he had to concentrate on the numbers, a bit difficult because of the interpreting, while absentmindedly spooning down some of the dessert. By now he was seriously full; after all it was already his fourth meal of the day, his waistband biting into him and his pants pinching his lower belly and thighs viciously. To be more comfortable and better able to concentrate, he leaned back in his broad chair, spread his thick thighs further so his oversized belly pillow could sink more relaxed between them and folded his hands over the bloated sphere of his upper belly, registering with naughty delight that the thick roles on his sides once more pushed his inflated upper arms into the perfect angle for this set up. With his interlocked thumbs he unwittingly rubbed small circles into the stretched flesh under his shirt, a trick which helped him focus on the sums, rebates and guest numbers thrown over the table. Catching one shocked glance from who had to be the young assistant of one of the reps, he momentarily became aware that he must strongly resemble a huge whale in this posture.

Then the meeting was over surprisingly soon and he could confirm a whole set of bookings for the coming 18 months at rates that were pleasantly above the maximum rebate with a handshake.

“Very smart of you to pull the Buddha stint in the negotiation of the rates,” the most senior interpreter, a wiry man around 60 told him with a Scottish accent. “They’ve agreed to 15% to 22% more than your two competitors here offered – and it really speeded up the process.”

“We’re 25% and 35% better than they are, so it’s still a good deal for them. What do you mean by Buddha stint?”

The interpreter smirked: “If you’ll forgive me for saying so, your corpulence is outstanding. Asian people are on the small side, mostly naturally slim and the social norm requires them to stay that way. Ironically their iconic figures like Buddhas or Sumo wrestlers often are rotund men, maybe because they have a surreal quality in comparison to the average person there. In so openly presenting your massive physicality, their traditional imbibed respect for this figurative type was triggered. Very successfully for you, as you see.”

Bemused, he looked after the group and lightly shook his belly murmuring: “Unbelievable, I always told Warren outstanding corpulence was good for business,” as Marcus came in.

“Claire said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes, I’d like to know your opinion on how we should continue with the restaurant. Are you interested in the position of chef?”

“Do you think I’m ready to be chef?”

Sensing the sincerity of the question, he shrugged: “To be honest, I think you’d profit from maybe a year or so more experience. On the other hand you’re so good already that I don’t want you suffering under maybe some idiot who’s got nothing except some years on you – so I’d be willing to give it a try.” – completely blending out that he normally needed to talk to Warren about so major a decision.

“It’s okay you’re honest – I actually see myself exactly as you do. My personal career plan was to work another year here, then ideally go abroad for a year or two and afterwards come back for a real advanced chef position.”

“Sounds like a very well thought out plan. I’d like to keep you on, with some perspective for more development, also because I don’t want to be murdered by Claire or lose her too. I’ll think of a plan giving you those opportunities and more responsibilities without the full position yet – is that ok?”

“Thank you, that sounds perfect. You’re doing so much for Claire and me…,” but he waved Marcus’ gratitude off and turned to go down to the bakery.

Although he was stuffed, his belly pushed heavily in front of him and he had to take deep puffs when moving, he wasn’t satiated yet. The burning tickle at the end of his palate was still there, demanding perpetual oral gratification now in the guise of a bad pastry craving. After all he’d only had a few bites of the fruity desserts, no cake, gateau or cookies yet – and it was as good as tea time now. Hadn’t he determined it was indulgence day, especially after the last successful deal?

Studying the spread of Maynard’s patisserie, rubbing his expectantly gurgling stomach, he opted for the Cherry Cosmopolitan gateau Charlene had chosen, his favorite new post diet creation of a caramel crocante millefeuille, the summery frozen chocolate gateau and a blueberry tartlet. Armed with these treats in their pretty paper box, he heaved his way up the three flights from the bakery to the service elevator which went up to his office floor, panting all the way because he was so full and felt the weight.

Fixing himself a pot of his current favorite white tea, he arranged the pastries on a platter together with patisserie cutlery and set it on his desk. With a sigh of relief, he took off his suit coat, his tie and unhooked the torturously tight waistband, watching as the tonnage of his underbelly pushed open the zipper forcefully to bulge out freely. Leaning back in his chair, his distended belly filling and straining his shirt jutting upward, he started to savor the first bites of his pastries, taking a small nibble of each to decide with which he wanted to continue his quest for sweet satiation.

While he was doing this, he with his free left hand massaged, fondled, rubbed, kneaded the masses of flab his belly offered, squeezed the bulging side roles, pinched the deep flab of his man boobs and shuddered with pleasure, making his chair creak dangerously. Opening his eyes, surveying the mountainous fat of his gut, he sighed shaking his head. There was no sense beating around the bush, he had to face the facts – he was insane, a hopeless nut case who was blissfully content because he weighed more than 500 pounds again. No normal person wanted to be this hugely overweight – but he gloried in it. Warren had been right with his accusation: He simply loved being super fat, stuffing his monster gut with delicacies, rolling it around cherishing the sensation of soft overabundant flesh with its heaviness.

Since the end of his diet, he’d put 50 pounds back on – most people probably did not notice the difference given his in both cases very high weight, but he could see and feel it clearly. His belly had regained the look of burgeoning overconfidence as absolute center of attention and all parts of his body once more had the reassuring layer of padding that comfortably cushioned his interaction with the world in so many ways. With the way he was currently indulging himself again, he’d be back up to his 525 pounds by Christmas, no matter how well he was exercising – his appetite always caught up, and the well fed fullness felt so delightful.
But what if he put on another 50 pounds more from now, how would that feel, how huge would his gut be then? Dubious was only that he could see himself with that much bigger a gut – but not with dieting again, losing weight down to the 350 pounds he had once promised Warren, should he ever take him up on that offer. It was not just the sense of physical well-being and confidence; his mother was right, everything worked better when he was eating well. All his hard work of the past months had been so productive and it was so rewarding to see how it paid off. And now he maybe even had a new dating prospect with Charlene….

Yet he didn’t want to think this fat fueled insanity through now; he’d deal with his insight and which consequences it might have sometime else. Right now he’d concentrate on this wonderful day, relish the excellent pastries, finish his work, digest a bit and then this evening be a good boy and get some exercise on his bicycle. Twirling a forkful of frozen chocolate gateau in his mouth, feeling the creamy richness melt on his tongue and the icy cool slide down his throat, there was a knock on his office door. Sitting up straight to hide his open pants under the desktop, he called a muffled: “Come in,” with a full mouth.

To his surprise it was Stephanie: “Hi Christopher, how are you. I forgot my coat and umbrella last week when we went to the concert in the park, when it didn’t rain after all. I came to pick them up.”

Over the past weeks, their attempt at being friends had progressed quite nicely. She had helped him with her uncle’s contacts in renovating and furnishing his new bakery office, while he had taken her to some summer events here at the hotel and in the park, they had made a few new jam and preserve recipes together. Although she still physically was a pretty bad turn on for him, he had been increasingly comfortable around her and found it easier to control himself than he thought. His experiences with how vulnerable she remained after the death of her husband, to which bizarre outbursts this could lead left him guarded and naturally keep his distance.

Before he had the chance to think how he was going to close his pants again, hide his pastries or minimize his embarrassment, she seemed to have caught up on the scene:
“Looks like somebody is nicely feasting on Maynard’s excellent patisserie…”

“Would you maybe like some?” his cheeks flushing, wondering how he could salvage the situation.

“I’d love some,” with a naughty smirk, Stephanie came around to his side of the desk, half sat on it and with a pout opened her mouth: “A bite of chocolate gateau for me too, please.”

Not being able to come up with anything better to do, he fed her a forkful, mesmerized as her plump lips sucked the chocolate off the fork. “Mmmh, sinfully good,” giving him a slightly hooded smile and opening her mouth again.

“Taste this,” he gave her a bite of the Cherry Cosmopolitan gateau. “This summer’s new creation.”

“Ummmh, really delicious,” she reached over and gave his chair an unexpected hard push, making it turn and fully exposing that his belly was bulging out of his open pants. “Well … well… somebody has really been living the good life today…,” she rubbed the top puff of his belly.

“Sorry… it’s not a good idea to let oneself be caught in too tight pants by your nutritionist after a truly indulgent day of business meals and now pastries…,”

“I’m not your nutritionist any more, I’m a friend, remember?”

“Yes of course, we’re friends. That’s working quite well, isn’t it?” he tried hard to get her attention off his monster gut, not that that was easy since it obviously was the elephant in the room.

“Ummm, yes, I think so too.” By now she had started to paw and fondle his gut seriously, even moving on to unbutton his shirt. “Let’s see, belly has gotten so really big and round again hasn’t it? It’s gotten over the scare of dieting by now, or not?”

“Unfortunately … I’m over 500 pounds again,” he whispered hoarsely, mortified that he let this slip, but her touch on his naked skin was getting him seriously bothered.

“And it feels so good, doesn’t it? So soft, and thick and familiar…” she murmured, now rubbing his belly fat in circular kneading motions. Sensing that he must be beet red by now, he only nodded slowly. “Yeah, I can see that, you look so well fed, so satisfied,” taking the platter from him, feeding him two bites of gateau, one for herself before she set it aside. She resumed caressing his belly, fondling his man boobs and running her hands teasingly under his belly, bouncing it upwards making him get painfully erect.

“Please Stephanie, stop it, this is getting unfair!” yet he couldn’t bring himself to grab her hands to stop her, her touch was addictively stimulating.

“How can a nice tummy rub to sooth poor stuffed tummy be unfair?” She teasingly bit into the puff of fat over the deep cavern of his navel. From his position, he could see her breasts rising with quickened breathing in black lace and her juicy thighs spread seductively as she squatted on her haunches.

“Because your touch … is … well … turning me on … and I can’t…”

“Who says you can’t touch me?”

“I can touch you?”

Seeing the disbelief in his face, she burst into giggles and half tipped backwards, the table holding her upright. With a speed he himself was surprised by he hauled himself to his feet, pulling her up and pushing her up on his desk breathing heavily.
Leaning over her, the mass of his gut immediately pinned her down as he let his chubby fingers wander under her skirt. Her thighs were so luscious, tender and soft, but firm underneath, the perfect grip under his fingers, making playing around a tactile joy as with pate brisée dough. The bulge of her haunches offered the ideal handle to pull her up stronger into his belly, with the thrill of her naked flesh pressing against his. He carefully unbuttoned her blouse, pulled it off to show her breasts spilling out of their lace bra. She in slow motion continued pulling and pushing his belly fat soothing and arousing him simultaneously. Given the enormous size of his stuffed gut, he struggled a bit to bend far enough over to kiss her.

“Is it okay if I kiss you, as friends you know?”

“Yes, it’s more than okay to kiss me,” raising herself a bit so he could reach her lips, languidly starting to nibble on them, they were so plump and sweet. Taking her in his arms, he kissed and caressed her, wrapping her into his overtly ample body, knowing its protective heft was often appreciated.

Stephanie responded to his kisses with a drawn out intensity that took his breath away until she suddenly held him off murmuring: “So sorry, you’re seriously good at working with your tongue but…,” she looked at him in pleading, plucking his nipple.

“But what?” he feared the worst.

“But … the table is really hard… and you know you’re pretty heavy ….you surely have a more comfortable piece of furniture in this hotel?”

“Pretty heavy is the understatement of the day,” he grinned in relief. “I have extremely comfortable furniture made for two right next door in my ensuite bedroom…” holding her tight as he led her over, carefully peeling her clothing off and shrugging out of his which was undone anyway. Pulling her on him on the bed, he continued with his exploration of her curvy body, observing in wonderment that it felt as fabulous as it looked; it was the perfect mix of soft and substantial.

As intimately as he continued showing her his oral and tactile appreciation of her physique, a gnawing doubt in the back of his mind held him back. From the way she was intensely fingering his sensitive flesh and his manhood – his size was not an issue, she was at least positively fascinated by his blubber overflowing her body. As for himself, he felt so lustily confident today, he was sure he could bodily bowl over anybody, so no doubts there. What subconsciously worried him was Stephanie’s motivation for intimate overtures, whether she was emotionally assertive enough for an attempt at sex with another man and whether he was the right one for this experiment.

“Hey, why are you holding back?” she looked him in the eye, nibbling on his double chin.

“I’m not holding …. are you sure you want to…?” his uncertainty regarding how comfortable she was with the situation spilled out.

“Yes – it’s you I want to be with right here and now. Let me, I want to feel all of you badly,” she pushed him on his back, once more massaging the underside of his belly in wicked stimulation, rubbing his erect manhood. Concentrating on controlling his arousal, he did not know what to do next as Stephanie quickly straddled him, placing his hands under his belly roll: “Hold up that big tummy pillow so I can get you inside me..”

Before he knew it, she had guided him inside her and all he could feel were hot dense muscles giving him such a breathtaking squeeze he almost passed out. Stephanie rhythmically pushed herself up against his gut rolls, playfully clawing into them in a feeling that was unreal in its intensity. She was no lightweight herself, and having this weight on him set off vehement waves and wobbles through his flesh masses that had an ecstatic quality, all he could do is try to make it last as long as possible until his climax made him forget everything around him.

In his utter physical satisfaction, he forgot all unease for a moment and pulled her into his arms and cuddled her close, rolling some of his weight over her, immediately starting to nuzzle and kiss her again. After an indefinite time period she tweaked his plump cheek: “Hello there … anybody home? Are you ever going to say anything again?”

“Hmmh, don’t know – I’m afraid of ruining the moment…”

“So… how was your moment?”

“Phenomenal. Umm … for you … I hope…”

She kissed him reassuringly. “My moment was really something special, very intense… Don’t look so worried. I feel great – and I’m very happy we’ve gotten this far. After all, we’ve both wanted it for some time, made overtures, haven’t we? It was overdue we gave it a try….”

He nodded and kissed her again, deciding to blend out all doubts he might have, to concentrate on the marvelous tangency of her delectable plumpness.
“Mmmh…,” he nibbled on the soft bits of her tummy.

“Is that really all you have to say? What are we going to do now?”

“Mmmh … sensuously sensational,” he grasped a big handful of her ass cheek and shook it. “Now I think we still have the appetite for a second course before I take you home to cook you an aphrodisiac dinner, or not?”
 

Lardibutts

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What a wonderfully weighty chapter. It had absolutely everything in it we've been longing for. :eat2:
 

Anjula

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Finally. I love eveturhing about it, EVERYTHING. I just beg you, continue. I will never get enough of em <3
 

viracocha

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Finally. I love eveturhing about it, EVERYTHING. I just beg you, continue. I will never get enough of em <3
Seconded. You seriously know how to make us melt. I think I need to read this every day.
 

deb

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More, More, More.....I just love this story and the characters too.....Too bad there are no illustrations.
 

atwolfe

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:wubu: oh, oh, oh!!!!:wubu: Been waiting for this chapter and it was even better than I expected! Thank you so much :)
 

Xyantha

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That chapter was liking finally tasting brownies you have been smelling as the cook... Such a reward for the anticipation!!
 

agouderia

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:blush::blush::blush: My heartfelt thanks to Lardibutts, Tad, Anjula, viracocha, deb, atwolfe, Xyantha, Undine and BriarChubNJ and all others who have expressed their enthusiastic support for this story.

I don't know how to convey how strongly I appreciate it.

Now here's the next chapter with an attempt to keep you interested in Christopher and Stephanie's personal progress....
 

agouderia

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188

“188, 188, f***ing one hundred and eighty-eight!” Stephanie mumbled angrily coming into the kitchen.

“Good morning! 188 what?” he stretched out his arms and wrapped her in them, pressing her into the soft mass of his belly.

“Mmmmh, it’s so good to feel you. When I woke up, the bed was so hard, cold and empty…” she snuggled against him.

“Well, you knew I had to be at the bakery at 4:30 a.m. to supervise the first official run of the new oven with the new breakfast rolls. I’ll make up for it now with a lot of coziness … and our very best new yeast buns with dark-chocolate chips…,” he tore one apart with one hand to feed her a bite with a kiss. “Isn’t the taste worth waking up alone?”

“Yummmm, excellent as always… but that’s no real help right now…”

Kissing her again, he fed her another piece. “What’s with the 188?”

“I weigh 188 pounds!”

“Ugghu..,” this not meaning all that much to him, feeding her another bite.

“Stop it! That means I’ve put on 16 pounds since we got together! Look, I can’t even button and zip my pants properly anymore!” indicating at her hips where her black dress pants indeed were gaping over about 3 inches of creamy white flesh bulging out. Her blouse also was conveniently unbuttoned, exposing small finger thick roles bulging over the top and sides of her bra.

“Oh, you’re right, now I see them!” He cuddled her playfully, pawing at her tummy, shaking it a bit, aroused by finding more to grab-able. “This is at least three pounds … oh and here, 10 cute new ounces…., ah and some prime real estate, five pounds of serious new sexiness,” he reached around, slid his hands in her pants and lightly spanked her butt cheeks.

“This isn’t funny Christopher! I was already at the upper edge of my weight limit when we got together. I’m now about 30 pounds over normal weight – and 60 pounds over what would be a typical nutritionist weight. You said so yourself, when we first met that I size-wise don’t fit the regular nutritionist bill. In our center, I’ve always been the cow among gazelles …”

“You’re a great supportive nutritionist! You’re gorgeous and certainly not a cow….,” he held her tight, kissing her softly and seriously to mask that he couldn’t think of a good positive and acceptable analogy for her curvaceous beauty and what it meant to him. To him, her hips were like the juiciest tenderloin steak, her breasts an exquisite cream puff with nipples like raspberries, the softness of her belly resembled a ripe Brillat Savarin cheese, her skin had the texture of a luxuriously blended sauce. Even though all this equaled perfection and sensual pleasure to him, the best comparisons he could think of, he knew from experience that women did not approve of being compared to food, no matter how good it was – and especially not in a discussion like the current one with Stephanie. In youthful fervor he had once done that with Liza, gushing fondling her breasts was as wonderful as kneading croissants – only to have her kick him out of her bed for over three weeks.
Suddenly he had a flash-back though: “Your curves are the feminine ideal …. you’re the perfect Nana, my beautiful Nana……”

“What do you mean by Nana?”

“Oh those fantastic colorful woman statues by Niki de St. Phalle – she would’ve loved sculpting your backside…,” fondling it. “That’s what I thought that very first day you came to my office. I wanted to make you as a Nana out of Marzipan, eat you all up,” teasingly sucking at her breast.

“You know I like it that you think I taste good … and you’re trying to be supportive… but those Nanas are just the caricature of a fat woman…”

“No they’re not! They’re the modern interpretation of the timeless female archetype offering all of the sign stimuli to subconsciously appeal to your basic instincts that require nutrition, protection and sexual fulfillment…”

“Says who?”

“My mother.”

“Why should I take your mother’s word for such a wild interpretation…?”

“My mother is an acclaimed art curator; you can trust her judgment on an issue like that. And I love your Nana curves, can’t get enough of them … what else matters?”

“What matters is that I have a talk with my supervisor today… it’s probably about the weight issue,” Stephanie muttered glumly. “I even have to go home first because I don’t have any business clothes here that fit properly any more…”

“First you need a decent breakfast – look I have the table all ready and here’s your coffee!”

“You’re so wonderful about spoiling me – the table looks lovely and appetizing! But that’s my problem; there are always way too many tasty calories around you!”
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Since he hadn’t heard back from Stephanie on how her supervisor meeting had gone by late afternoon, he sent her a text on where to find him and went on his normal bike and back exercise program. Cycling along the river, his flab bouncing in timing to the pedaling, he exhaled deeply something like true happiness streaming through him – his reality at the moment seemed as golden tinted as this early autumn evening was. Having Stephanie in his life had turned out to be nothing but a straightforward blessing. As complicated as their early history had been - they had very smoothly taken up the routine of a loving couple without any questions asked, explanations needed or awkwardness to be overcome. It had been like a self-assembly appliance: Parts that wouldn’t fit, a user manual that wasn’t helpful and mechanics that somehow couldn’t fall into place, even though it was obvious it had to work fantastically once assembled. Then when the decisive pieces finally clicked, everything functioned in perfection and one could only wonder why it had taken so long and been so complicated.

Within two weeks she had more or less moved in with him since he had the spacious and stylish apartment while she – as he found out – shared a run-down old house with her brother and his other college roommates on the other side of town. Jason had explained that she had moved in after Timmy’s death since she couldn’t bear being alone and now hated the house she henceforth owned 50 miles to the West, which Timmy had originally inherited from his grandparents and had very lovingly refurbished for her. Her black dresses, pants and skirts started to fill one of his closets; her collection of hairbrushes was in a basket in the bathroom and her favorite tea in the kitchen. It was as if a void in his life, one he had only vaguely been aware of had been filled as it was meant to be.

It was wonderful to wake up in the morning, reach over and roll against her warm, luscious sweetness. Smile at her over the breakfast table as she bit into a warm cinnamon bun, one of his huge t-shirts wrapped three times around her. Not go to a reception or premiere alone, but with his arm around her, proudly advertising their togetherness. He hadn’t known it, but that had always been missing with his affairs, that he had to hide his affection in public. The cozy feeling of simply coming home to someone. Picking her up and biking together for exercise. Cooking all sorts of delicious dinners and samples, testing and tasting them over the dining table, feeding each other. Having his sexual appetite kindled and satisfied very regularly. Even watching TV – she was hooked on some medical drama shows – boring as it may be, was pleasurable with Stephanie: They’d settle on the sofa, she’d snuggle against him, slide her hands under his shirt and let them cuddle his bulk watching TV while he read the paper, looked through menu plans, or into recipe collections, or simply dozed off nodding on his fleshy double-chin – or if he should get too bored, he’d start petting her to either finish off the job then and there or to friskily push her over into the bedroom.

In light of all these domestic delights, his uncertain position in the hotel and conflict with Warren had faded into the back ground. Life went on – and as long as it was as marvelous as it was now, being incommunicado with Warren bothered him less and less. Especially since he knew the ‘Langdon Residency’s’ performance was currently outstanding; it would be very difficult to find an adequate replacement for him. There also was the tinge of hope that this part of his life would also get back to normal since the feedback he had been getting regarding his bid to open an outlet of Maynard’s French Boulangerie in the store front of the ‘Langdon Imperial Residency’ actually sounded more promising than he had dared imagine.
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With a loud puff, he pulled at the laundry lift, making it rise towards the ceiling as he felt a whack on one of his mega rump cheeks with a loud slapping sound followed by an explosion of jiggles in his wobbly flesh.

“Hey!” he cried out as his other butt cheek was smacked.

Turning he saw Stephanie with a coy smile. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. That was so much ass, just begging for a little spank!”

“Look who’s talking, Miss I’ve-got-the-sweetest-spank-able-ass-cheeks-ever herself!” he laughed and tried to twirl her around to get a chance to slap her delightful pumpkin backside. As he caught her arm, he noticed she wasn’t really smiling and her eyes were red. “What’s wrong?” to only see her chin start to quiver as tears spilled out of her eyes and she flung herself against him.

“Careful – that’s not a good idea. I’m all sweaty – your nice dress’ll get dirty.”

“So what! Just hold me, please hold me!” muffled against his chest, sobbing. Something must have happened at her supervisor meeting and she was too upset to answer any of his questions, so he stuck to cradling her in his big arms, murmuring soothingly and stroking her hair.

“Better now?” as she slowly stopped sobbing. “Why don’t we go for a swim together – I still have to do that part of my exercises? And I’ll ask Linda whether she can give you a massage while I get mine from Namée. It’ll do you good. We can talk about everything over dinner after you’ve unwound a bit. How does that sound?” Sniffing she nodded.

Diligently swimming laps for quite a while, he was soon distracted by watching Stephanie’s backside bob in and out of the water. Her plain black sports swimsuit had the exciting novelty of her having outgrown it; so the fabric cut into her plump buttocks making fresh flesh roles spill out at the seams and quiver appealingly with her swim strokes. After a while, the itch in his fingers became unbearable and he reached over, grabbed into her juicy ass cheek and flipped her around in the water, making her yelp and kick in protest. “Hey, I’m swimming, don’t ruin my exercise!”

But he only gave her a quick kiss before he dunked her playfully to then toss her into the air as soon as she resurfaced. As she splashed back into the water, she caught him by surprise as she dived down and with a jerk pulled his feet out from under him on the slippery floor, making him end face down in the water so she could clamber on his back rodeo style, lightly, mischievously digging her heels into his side roles. As soon as he was able to raise his head long enough from under her grasp to catch his breath, he turned over, making her slide off so he could roll himself over her, cavorting like a love sick sea elephant, his flab shaking madly. Soon he had her squealing with laughter as they romped through the water, groping each other with the splashes of his tonnage displacement caused squalls of water to overflow the pool.

“Mr. Christopher, Miss Stephanie – time for your massage!” Namée’s accusing look at the pool clock made him realize that they had completely lost track of time.

“So sorry Namée, we didn’t pay attention how late it already was. We’re coming!”

Namée started on his back, very firmly reaching into his back muscles, loosening them. “Your back very good and strong again Mr. Christopher. You worked very well on your exercises,” coming from reserved Namée, this was highest praise.

“Thank you so much Namée, I’m trying to do my best. Without your help I would never have made it,” basking in the warm glow of this unexpected recognition.
That was one more thing that made being with Stephanie such a special, uplifting experience – she was so sweet, caring and attentive. She always reassured him, gave him positive feedback, told him how nice his clothes looked, how good he made her feel, how strong and fit he was, how excellent his taste was and so on. Her constant appreciation had let him leave the last hurtful vestiges of his diet period behind him, restoring his basically confident and optimistic outlook on life. Stephanie’s loving support in connection with business thriving at present actually had him in serious danger of becoming absurdly self-satisfied and rather conceited.

Since she now in turn was struggling with her weight and job, he wanted to give her back at least some of that tender encouragement to help her through her troubles at the diet center and racked his brain how he might convincingly achieve this. Later at home, he took care to make a really light healthy dinner with two different salads and turkey-sage kebabs, no bread, no dessert, only a glass of light white wine.

Stephanie did notice and gave him a sad smile. “Oh Christopher thank you – you’re so considerate cooking me a diet dinner .. . because you’re of course right, that’s what I’ll have to stick to for the next weeks,” she sighed heavily.
“But is this okay for you? I don’t want you to go hungry and unhappy. Have some bread and cheese with fruit afterwards.”

“No, I’m okay. A light dinner won’t do me any harm, on the contrary. Bon appétit – despite watching calories, I made sure the taste didn’t suffer.”

After they had both eaten a bit, Stephanie spoke up again: “Okay, I owe you the full story, I’ve calmed down. As expected, they want me to lose weight, get back down to 160 – maybe even write that as maximum weight into my contract. I’ve got until the end of the year, weighing twice a week on Mondays and Fridays. Our new co-owner is my ‘mentor’,” she grimaced.

“Stephanie … I don’t know what to say…. I somehow feel this is in part my fault … I cook and eat too much,” a strong sense of discomfort rising.

“Don’t berate yourself Christopher, that’s not the point. I’ve been eating all the delicious things you prepare after all,” she rubbed his hand, lightly squeezing the dimples in their padding. “Our new co-owner is part of the problem. Jack, the founder, always was very positive about my size, saying he got only positive feed-back from clients, showed we promoted a healthy, realistic approach to diet and fitness. But to finance our expansion he took in Mindy – she’s the daughter of the owner of the largest local gym chain. A total body fanatic, much less qualified than I am, she has no more than a license as an aerobics instructor. So it’s also a bit of a power and status struggle – she’s jealous I’m in charge of the program development. Her harping on my weight, pointing out it doesn’t fit the image and profile of the center is a bit tit-for-tat. But it’s my fault I gave her the grounds for it, I should’ve been more careful, not enjoyed life so much….”

The cold dread he had known so well during his diet was stealing back through his intestines, making swallowing his salad difficult.

“This is real difficult for me … but I need to take care of losing the weight again. I want to keep my job … and I don’t want to prove Mindy right.” Stephanie took his thick hand between hers. “So I fear we’ll have to cool things for a while, Christopher darling. I’ll relocate back into my room at Jason’s; take care of the diet for the next months…”

“No!”

“It’s only temporary…”

“No! I don’t want you to leave, I don’t want to wake up alone again, I don’t want to imagine you all miserable dieting over in that awful house…,” he heard the note of panic in his voice, the familiar painful ice block once more sinking into the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t want that either. Be reasonable Christopher, it’s only temporary. And we’d still see each other, for exercise, going out, though without eating out. You know I can’t manage a diet here, with you cooking, baking, producing culinary delights non-stop … it wouldn’t work.”

“Yes it can! You can do the diet cooking for our breakfast and dinners, I can eat them too. I promise I won’t bring food from the deli and bakery…,” he said this without thinking, what it might mean for him, but he didn’t care. The specter of his life and apartment without Stephanie was a lot worse than that of two diet meals a day. Hauling himself to his feet, he bent down to her chair and wrapped her in a fierce hug. “Please, can’t we try it? I’m no good as a dieter, I know that … but I’ll do anything to help you. Don’t you always say getting support in dieting is important, having a partner for it? And look, my kitchen is so much nicer, better equipped; we have the good market around the corner. It’ll be a lot easier to do your healthy diet cooking here. Please stay here.”

She reached up and kissed him, rubbing his cheek. “You’re adorable to offer that. I know how difficult it’s for you. I’d prefer staying here – I hate the idea of waking up alone again too. But I don’t want to diet torture you. Are you sure it’s okay to eat diet dinner and breakfast for you? I would make you bigger portions though…”

“Don’t worry about that. I want you here with me, that’s what counts. I can eat a normal lunch and tea at the hotel or bakery, I’ll be fine. Set up everything here as you need it… we’ll show that Mindy!”


After making his promise to Stephanie to support her in her dieting, he had briefly been worried that he would lapse back into the nasty food and hunger issues he had had during his diet, but that went surprisingly smoothly. Stephanie was a good cook, her diet breakfasts and dinners served in more sizable portions for him supplemented with a big lunch and nice afternoon tea were enough to keep him adequately fed.

Much worse was the diet atmosphere that quickly hung over the plafond of their relationship like a dark gray leaden cloud making their spirits droop.
From what anger she vented occasionally, it was mainly her in-fights with Mindy and the pressure she received from her that bothered and frustrated her. Now Stephanie often complained about head-aches, was tired and in no mood for high jinks of any type, only willing to snuggle in his arms and quickly fall asleep in the evenings. What he really missed was doing things together. Cooking and eating were no longer possible.
To his surprise exercising was eliminated too because Mindy insisted on doing a much more rigorous regime with Stephanie – only to have her get a bad case of bursitis from over working her left shoulder early on in the program. This made Stephanie spend several nights literally crying in pain in his bed before she got the right diagnosis after he had insisted on sending her to Dr. Kalamidis. Ensuing more problems at her center since she couldn’t follow their plan as desired since she could only do special exercises with her shoulder and was not allowed to work out much because of the strong medications she had to take to stop the inflammation.

How strong the disregard for medical considerations was at Stephanie’s center became obvious as he came to pick her up one evening to take her to a concert. Since she was not ready yet, he barged in on a dispute between Stephanie, Mindy and some other guy who was forcing Stephanie’s arm up in some exercise which caused her to cry out in pain.

“Stop that immediately!” he barked at them.

“Who are you?” the guy asked.

“Ouuh, so you’re Stephanie’s new boyfriend…,” Mindy surveyed his girth with fascinated disgust. “No wonder…” but he cut her short before she had the chance to come up with any insults by blocking her way out of the equipment corner with the full intimidating force of his good 500 pounds. “You clearly are not qualified to do the correct mobilization exercises with an injured patient. Stephanie will get her mobilization therapy and massage at our hotel spa from now on. You’ll receive her doctor’s certificate that this is medically required.”

Coming from changing, Stephanie said nothing but a small “Thank you ever so much for saving me,” with a long kiss before being very quiet all evening, despite the fun Latin music, only clinging to his hand tightly, or wrapping herself around him.

As he weighed himself four weeks into Stephanie’s depressing diet, he was startled to have lost five pounds back down to 505 pounds making up for almost all of those he had initially put on with Stephanie. He didn’t even dare tell her, because he knew she had only lost six in this time period and was very upset. Apart for her heart wringing to watch frustration, no longer being able to pleasurably test cook and taste with Stephanie annoyed him most because it had been such a wonderful rewarding past time à deux.

Since the winter holiday season was approaching quickly, he needed to spend some evenings in the bakery or deli kitchen with Jerome, Marcus, and Claire to develop and test cook and bake new specialties to sell and serve for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Stephanie clearly was not fond of him doing so, but always put up a brave face telling him he needed to take care of his business, get the work done and was doing all he could in supporting her with the diet anyway. Heading off to the deli or bakery then left him conflicted: He hated seeing her so unhappy, detested the diet gloom that had settled over his apartment and was torn between guilt for leaving her alone and relief to get away to the haven of his kitchen. There he would find the cheery warm bustling mode he relished and could experiment with all types of food, taste them, focus on the flavors, not worry about calories and enjoy his new creations with a warmly filled stomach.

One evening Claire and he were making samples for their annual holiday season specialties to sell at the deli. They had already agreed on Orange-Cointreau relish, a new blend of Pumpkin preserve with bits of walnuts, nutmeg and cinnamon and were experimenting on their own home made Christmas flavor version of crunchy peanut butter.

“Close your eyes .. no peeking …. open up …. now taste this,” Claire pushed a spoon into his mouth, a very pleasant sensation of creamy peanut butter goodness spreading, the light crunch of the peanut chunks and them something soft and fruity.

“Ummm … more please…,” opening his mouth again to have another heaped spoonful of the goodness being slid into his mouth, his bulging upper tummy receiving a warm rub from Claire’s small hand. “Isn’t that good?”

“It’s fabulous…,” he opened his eyes, concentrating on spreading the peanut butter over his taste buds. “You added dried cranberries, didn’t you? Excellent combination, the fruity with the nutty, makes the creamy texture lighter….,”

“Yeah, our Christmas spices peanut butter turned out great – but I thought another type with the fruit would be something…,” Claire fed him another spoonful, continuing to pat his tummy. “Shall we give it a try for the sample sale of our best customers...that would be..”

“What do you think you’re doing there Claire?” Claire dropped her spoon and he turned to see a very angry Stephanie glaring at him. “So this is what your ‘work’ looks like! A nice cozy feeding session with Claire dear!” Stephanie’s voice was ripe with sarcasm.

He was at a loss of what to say. To be able to bow out of the dispute, Claire had immediately wet some cloths and bent down to wipe away the mess the fallen spoon had made. He knew Stephanie was still not Claire’s biggest fan, but was shocked to see how aggressively jealous she looked. “Stephanie how nice you came. Can I for once tempt you with a new creation we want to try out…”

“Well of course a new creation by dear Claire must be tempting! Especially on a real cooking date only the two of you… ”

“Stephanie, how good to see you again, it’s been ages!” Marcus saved him by returning this minute with a jar of sundried tomatoes for trying out a new spread. “You poor thing are on a diet Christopher said, so you can’t join in on the fun of preparing our holiday selection. We miss you!” he pulled Stephanie into a warm hug making Christopher sigh with relief.

“Oh so you’re working here this evening too, how wonderful!” Stephanie blushed a bit but responded to Marcus’ hug. “Yeah, I’m in full diet frustration mode … I miss cooking with Christopher too. You look great, very prosperous …, “patting his belly. Although her relations with Claire remained strained, Stephanie and Marcus had hit it off well making double couple events manageable like some film premieres they had gone to together.

Marcus reddened, but slapped his gut confidently. “Yeah … the big 4-0-0 is looming on the edge of the scale. You know this is no environment to agonize about the pounds – Claire and Christopher see to that,” making Claire’s eyes widen in alarm, but Marcus continued obliviously. “Halloween is next week, we had a long weekend of great events planned … why don’t you give yourself a break, join us for the fun?”

“I’d love to,” Stephanie had moved over to Christopher, slipped her arms as far around his middle as possible and kissed him. “And I think I will – I miss the fun of indulging myself with you guys…”
 

agouderia

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After their long Halloween weekend, Stephanie came back from work the next Friday her eyes red and puffy from crying, literally hanging her head. “What’s wrong my sweet Nana?” he murmured tenderly, hugging her tight, kissing her neck.

“They weighed me again today. Our Halloween indulgence made me gain five of the six pounds I’d lost back again. The ‘motivation talk’ I received was less than motivating.” Her voice wasn’t even upset – it sounded flat, tired, defeated. “Do you have a cup of that Moroccan mint tea for me?”

Serving her the tea and sitting down on the broad couch next to her, he took her in his arms, tongue tied because he didn’t know if there was anything helpful or non-offensive he could say. Especially since he badly wanted to talk about his own very positive news – but that seemed so selfish. After a long leaden silence her stomach growled pitifully and his responded in solidarity. “No matter what, we need a bit of dinner. I’ll make us a pan of those baked vegetables with goat cheese; I have some nice squash…”

The smell of the herbs, the chopping of the vegetables and most of all the pounding of the major steak he was going to have with his vegetables was calming, and he hoped eating it later with a glass of wine would give him an inspiration on what to say to Stephanie.

“How was your day? Everything okay? You’re so quiet….” She had snuck up behind him, slipped her arms around his middle, sinking her hands into the blubbery sides of his belly pushing it back and forth setting off the most pleasurable undulations.

“My day was just fine…,” he sighed. “I don’t know what to say. Since my diet, I know how awful these weighings and diet motivation talks are … After one of them, there never was anything anybody could say that would make me feel better. I felt like the biggest loser ever. That’s what got to me … and now seeing it with you again… I’m so sorry. We were so happy together … weren’t we…? I’m sorry you gain weight around me – you know my food issues….”

“Hey, I eat your good food after all, you don’t force me… it’s not your fault. But you were right, we were so much happier together… why do diets make people unhappy?”

“I hate to see you like this. Especially since you neither need nor deserve it. Those are weight fascists in your center. You’re curvy, wonderfully curvy, not obese or fat or anything that would remotely require a diet. In my case, being morbidly obese, at least the medical statistics were on Warren’s side… Did any of your patients, clients ever complain?”

“Not that I know of,” she firmly continued squeezing his belly, heat starting to emanate from her touch, flowing through him as arousing relaxation. “Don’t torture yourself with memories of your diet … it’s bad enough if I’m currently stuck in that rut..”

With one arm he pulled her around to his front and hugged her tight with a slow kiss. “I got a very unexpected offer today … and I have a wild idea for you. Headquarters contacted me whether I wanted to re-train the team of the Langdon Beach Resort down south for 2 weeks – they’re having some massive problems. I’d love to do it, show Warren … yeah … it’s good they seem to be interested in my involvement in running the hotel group again…,” he had trouble hiding how happy he was about these news. “Why don’t you come with me? Relax on the beach; get away from the wet and cold here…”

“You’re inviting me on a beach vacation?”

“Yeah, sort of. I have to work … but we’ll also have time together. You can relax, exercise….”

“Sounds too good to be true. You’re right – getting away is what I feel most like right now!”


The water ran off his lightly tanned flesh masses in riplets, the expanse of his belly wobbled and bounced heavily as he made his way through the sand back to the pool side bar after his daily afternoon swim. Holding Stephanie’s hand, he puffed a little as his weight made him sink deeply into the sand, his calves started to burn from the exertion of heaving himself forward.

At the pool side, he got under the shower and turned in the cool stream, rubbing his flab to get rid of the salt and sand on his skin and enjoying how this intensified his sense of physical well-being.

“Oh my god, look at that incredible whale! And he dares present all that blubber in swimming shorts!” A woman on a deck chair near the shower said this in one of those loud stage whispers meant to be overheard.

“How can anybody get so super disgustingly fat? And why do we have to look at that in a five star resort? I’m going to complain to the management – they should make sure such people don’t get into their exclusive pool area…..” her male accompaniment huffed.

Grinning with wicked pleasure, Christopher turned off the water, took his towel and started drying himself, taking great care to make his flesh jiggle as much as possible.
“If you’ll excuse my correcting you, I am not disgustingly super fat. I am outstandingly corpulent,” he had instantly loved this wording to describe his size and used it regularly. “And why would you want to complain about the chance to get some bonus whale watching here? Normally hotel’s charge you extra for that spectacle.”

Wrapping his arm around Stephanie with a possessive hand on her cushioned backside, who looked worried behind her sun glasses he lumbered over to the bar area letting his gut hang and sway energetically. His still damp skin felt so good in the warm breeze, he didn’t feel like putting his t-shirt back on as he sank onto the comfortable lounge sofa, spreading his thighs and exhaling to let his vast paunch swell comfortably into position. Having all his fat roll and stack itself without the constrictions of clothing and after having been freshly exercised was a truly exhilarating sensation: Like how the soft bulging roles from his man boobs to his back squished themselves into place over the upmost of his inflated belly tires set lose cascades of enjoyable little tingles. The weight of his gut in his lap, as the heavy naked flesh pressed on that of his thighs towards his knees. Or feeling how thickly his love handles spilled over the waist band of his swimming shorts, making him shift to spread himself wider and give all his excess bulk more room.

His stomach had barely started to growl as the platters with the happy hour tidbits were already placed before him by Paco, their new young head waiter for the day shift. “Mr. Maynard – here are the samples for today’s finger food to go with the cocktail for tonight’s celebratory cooking competition. We’re following the tapas style you had suggested. The small trial run selection we’re offering now here at the pool bar is also in high demand. What would you like to drink?”

“Thank you Paco, please tell the kitchen team it looks fantastic – they’ve outdone themselves. A large bottle of soda water would be great – and then a 43 sour for both of us… or do you want something else, Stephanie?” who only shook her head.

Surveying the platters, he dipped a king prawn into the cilantro pesto and bit into it, smacking his lips from the delicious taste. Taking a second one, he spread a slice of grilled ciabatta with the pesto and placed a prawn on it, guiding it to her lips. “Here, taste this, just delicious…” as she opened up and bit into it. Since he hadn’t eaten since lunch, no tea and pastries in the afternoon, instead an hour of swimming, he was starving. Dinner was over two hours off, so getting a substantial snack was asked for. He ate his way through the platters, feeding some to Stephanie, before leaning back as the edge had been taken off his hunger. Contemplating the charmed light of the setting sun, he looked down at the slightly more swollen sphere of his belly mass, lightly rubbing the side of his stomach with his elbow – enough to make all the flab vibrate pleasingly, but discreet enough to not be outright fondling himself in public.

Smiling over to Stephanie, she fit in perfectly into the hallowed image of being forming his current state of mind. The past twelve days here had really been as escape from their reality, a retreat into a happy universe of sea, sun, swimming, sex and delicious food. Working with the staff in the kitchen, training the new equipe, he had been indulgently pushing a well filled stomach ahead of himself most of the time, unconcerned whether it expanded further again or not. He hadn’t paid any attention if Stephanie was still sticking to some diet, at least she hadn’t mentioned it; she had sampled readily with him and seemed as relaxed and carefree as at the beginning of their togetherness. Gazing at her now, she looked like a lovely Nana of fertility, all dark golden tan, very plump thighs spilling across her seat and cute little roles of flesh peaking out at all ends of her clearly too small black tankini. Somehow she seemed aware of the problem, for she was constantly plucking at her skimpy pareo to arrange it in a more covering manner around her middle.

Spearing one of the fried mushrooms wrapped in crisp bacon with his fork, he held it to her mouth and leaned over, giving the juicy role which bulged out from the bottom of her swimsuit at her hip a playful squeeze. “I think we need to go find a cute bikini with a better fit to show off those adorable new 16 pounds of yours…” he murmured.

“21”

“21?”

“21 new pounds.” Stephanie shook her head sighing. “I’m having a wonderful vacation here … even my shoulder is all healed again after swimming so much. But sticking to a diet while you’re retraining the kitchen equipe is impossible. So I’ve put on six new pounds here, bringing me up to a total of 21 I’ve gained since we’re together. And you’re right, I need a bigger swimsuit … though I doubt a bikini would be the right fit…”

“I’m sorry..,” he mumbled, hastily spreading some dried-tomato cream cheese mousse on a slice of olive bread and biting into it – the chewing saving him from having to respond. It was a lovely evening – and the last thing he needed now was unsettling diet and weight talk.

“You’re truly at peace with yourself, comfortable with your body right now, aren’t you?” she finally asked quietly, surveying the spreading duvet of fat filling his lap.

Surprised by the question, he took a long drought of the 43sour before he shrugged: “Yeah… I guess I am… you, the sun, the sea, successful work, excellent food, great sex…. all I love in life. Why do you ask?”

“The way you’re sitting there, like one of these big Buddhas, the image of serenity. You look so content, confident, it’s like you’re showing off your size almost naked …. feeling fine…”

“Fine- that’s how I feel . Being well fed always made me feel fine, feel like myself.” He folded his hands over his mountainous paunch, rubbing it lightly. “I haven’t thought much about it lately ….You once said so: My monster gut is somehow part of my identity. Maybe I’m crazy, but I felt fabulous, really like myself again as soon as I was back over 500 pounds. Spending my life as a quality soufflé is my favorite state of mind and body. It’s nuts, but there seems to be nothing I can do about it.”

“Yeah, I can totally sense that. Like those nasty remarks from the jerks at the pool didn’t get to you at all. It’s so different from how I saw you during your diet – there you were getting more and more insecure as the months went by …. You were so unhappy with yourself, even though you were losing the weight. Now, it like nothing in the world can upset your self-assurance…”

“You think so?” he frowned in concentration. “Yeah … you might have a point. It’s well … hmm … I don’t know how to put it …. well … you know, I always thought I had nothing in common with my mother. She lives in her own world, sees everything through the lens of art and art history, is oblivious to the normal everyday perspective of other people. Maybe I live in my own world just as much as she does. Only my world is food, baking, eating and hotel rooms. In my world, this is nothing but an advertisement for successful work and excellent ingredients… like a badge of honor for my professional accomplishments…,” he patted his belly mound watching jiggles run through it before he blushed. “Sorry … that’s nonsense, don’t listen to me….”

“No, I don’t think it’s nonsense,” Stephanie slipped her hand over on his belly, fondled it lovingly. “Seeing you then and now, it makes perfect sense. You’re happy as long as you’re in your own well fed world … and Wershowitz’s diet tore you out of it, left you in what was in a cold, critical, hostile environment for you.”

He bent over to give her a tender kiss. “You understand me perfectly. That’s exactly how it felt. I grew up really spoiled, my family gave me the idea I could achieve anything I wanted if I only tried hard enough. I was raised with nothing but praise and support. With the diet, it was the first time I tried really hard with something that didn’t work… and I only got criticism for my trials and failures. I couldn’t handle that ….” his voiced turned into an embarrassed mutter.

“Christopher, there is nothing positive about negative pressure. I’ve seen you work under pressure, handle tough situations – you’re a real achiever, know how to make things happen. Weight and dieting is no measure for personality and success. Stay as happy, healthy and active as you are right now, live in your own world – it’s the best place for you…” she leaned over him for another long kiss sliding her hand under the enormous fat tire rolling over his waistband.

“Thank you – you’re so sweet and understanding…. Mmmh…. What about you? And your job?”

“I don’t want to talk or think about it right now. You’re right, this is a beautiful evening. Let’s make even more of it…. I’m in the mood for a little pre-dinner snuggle upstairs….”


Brimming with physical satisfaction he came down for the official gala dinner cooking competition between the two teams of the kitchen equipe to celebrate the end of the cooking training. The dining room was packed; it looked like they had a fair share of guests from the other resorts nearby who were interested in an exquisite dinner and to come see how the new developments at the ‘Langdon Beach Resort’ had progressed. Having Stephanie in his arm who looked good enough to eat in a black stretchy halter neck that was quite tight and outlined the fullness of her little tummy pillow, hips and backside to perfection was the icing on his cake. He was wearing his old, pre-diet light-weight black evening suit – Stephanie had laughed her head off as he had admitted sheepishly that he had saved all his largest cloths in the back of his closet– with suspenders so his gut could distend itself comfortably over the waistband in the course of the evening.

Doing the round through the guests, trying to greet and speak to as many people as possible, suddenly a short wave from Kyle Weaver, the new young director of the Langdon Resort caught his eye. Making his way over, Kyle apologetically said in a low voice: “Sorry to interrupt your rounds, but Mr. and Mrs. Baxter-Barclay insist on seeing the most senior management representative from the Langdon Hotels here. They say since my official introduction is only today, they’d prefer someone from headquarters….”

Watching Kyle Weaver’s short, trim physique guide him outside, he made a mental note to talk to him about standing his ground in exercising authority. Kyle was an incredibly nice, competent guy with excellent professional qualifications – he needed to make sure everybody respected that. Yet Christopher registered that Kyle’s 5’7’ lean, trim physique in combination with being barely 30 might be less advantageous for commanding the necessary presence. In his own experience in his early days as director this had never played a role: Although he had only been in his mid twenties, nobody had ever doubted his authority once he planted his good 6’3’ and then over 300 pounds in front of them – his size had emphasized any claims to his position convincingly.

Kyle guided him to the terrace; were he was astonished to see the rude couple from the poolside in the afternoon waiting. “Mr. and Mrs. Baxter-Barclay – may I introduce you to Christopher Maynard. He’s long term director of the ‘Langdon Residency’, member of the Langdon group’s senior management and currently seconded here to manage the retraining and installation of the new team here at the ‘Langdon Beach Resort’. Please feel free to explain to him any problems you might have encountered with other guests at the pool today.”

“Mrs. Baxter- Barclay, Mr. Baxter-Barclay… pleased to meet you. How can I help you?” he couldn’t help laughing a little as he saw the horrified faces of the over-tanned, stiff-necked middle-aged couple as he shook their hands energetically, letting them feel the plump fleshiness of his hands.

“Pleasure … so sorry …. Don’t know … misunderstanding …. Just wanted to meet…,” a mortified incoherent babble came from the Baxter-Barclay’s as they couldn’t look him in the eye, both flushing a very dark red.

“Mr. and Mrs. Baxter-Barclay say they had an unpleasant encounter with a guest at the pool who was somehow indecently exposed. Didn’t you say something about excess flesh on display?” Kyle Weaver tried to be helpful.

The mutters of the Baxter-Barclays turned only more incoherent, so Christopher decided to put them out of their misery. “I’m very sorry to hear that you were subject to any form of unpleasantness at the Langdon Resort. But I would like to give you some insights on the philosophy of the Langdon group. We follow a strict non-discriminatory policy and are proud of our welcoming and accepting culture within our hotel group. We try hard to see people for themselves, not based on outward appearances or symbols of rank and status. Size says nothing about a person, his or her personality, qualifications or professional ranking. In the Langdon group, you can meet executives who are happy, competent and willing to make the most of your stay in sizes XS to 6XL. I can assure you, you’ll never be disappointed by their professional standards – and I hope the rest of your stay with us will be most enjoyable.”

He tried to turn his ironic smirk into a half-way sincere smile. “Now let me show you our tapas buffet. You’ll see that appreciating excellent cuisine strongly contributes to a positive, successful outlook on life…. another important element in our philosophy…”
 

Tad

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The great white north, eh?
So happy that they are together, adored the way Christopher thinks of Stephanie's new roundness (you catch the male mind very well!), and am amused by the ending of this part.

I just hope that Stephanie can find a solution to her situation that is as satisfying to her as Christopher's has been for him.

And of course, thank you for the new addition!
 

geekybibabe

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Lovely, as always! The way you describe his contentment and Stephanie's reaction to it is delightful.
 

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