But I know What I Like - by Big Beautiful Dreamer - (~BHM, Eating, Stuffing)

[Big Beautiful Dreamer]

~BHM, Eating, Stuffing - A FFA entices a good-looking jock into a new realm of creative art

But I Know What I Like
by Big Beautiful Dreamer​

Stefan was more than ready to stop eating, but the pizza wasn’t gone yet, and his mantra among his buddies was "woe be unto the first one to bail out" He discreetly rubbed his belly and picked up another huge slice. He chomped into it and followed with a large swallow of beer.

“W’guggin-is?” Pete mumbled, his mouth stuffed full of pizza, cheeks bulging. He swallowed and restated wis words intelligibly. “Where you goin’ after this?”

“Nowhere,” Stefan said. He stifled a belch. “Going to stay here and channel surf.”

“Wuss,” Pete said cheerfully. “I’m going to Shorty’s. You coming?” He jerked his head in the direction of Philip.

“(Urp) Sure.” Philip was always up for a night out.

“Well, unlike you two shlubs, I have to get up in the morning,” Sterfan said as stifled another belch. Stefan worked as an arts administrator, while Pete repaired computers in his bedroom (making obscene amounts of money), and Philip was a nurse. He worked four days on, three days off.

“Okay,” Pete said, standing up. He dusted pizza crumbs off his shirt and grabbed his jacket.

“See ya,” Philip chimed in as they headed out. “Don’t wait up.”

Left alone, Stefan contemplated the portion of the last slice in his hand, finishing it absentmindedly. He drained his beer. He started to stand up, but klutzed it up and knocked the chair over. He grabbed the table for support and his stomach sloshed heavily. Feeling a little woozy, he staggered over to the sofa and flopped down. Abstractly, he contemplated his swollen and gorged belly as he might contemplate a sculpture. His stomach bulged visibly, distended and taut below his shirt and straining his waistband. He belched, pressing a hand to his midriff as it fluttered. Drowsy, he started when the phone rang.

It took a minute for him to rock forward and off the sofa. “H’lo? … oh, hi, Katie … nothing … they’re out barhopping … yeah, some of us have to work … (hic!) Scuse me … yeah, just ate too much … yeah, stomach hurts … yeah, okay … when? … (hic!) Scuse me … see you in a few … bye.”

Hanging up the phone, Stefan hiccupped again, wincing at the sharp stab in his chest, and looked around. Better straighten the place up. Lethargically, he moved around the small kitchen, clearing away the remains of the pizza boxes and loading the dishwasher. Just as he was wiping the counter, he heard Katie’s knock and hastened to let her in.

“Hi!” Katie said brightly. Bright was her default setting. Five foot three, she had short, attractively tousled brown hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a trim figure with enough curves to give her an appealing chest and trunk. She glanced swiftly at his bloated waist. “Wow, you did eat too much.”

She poked his belly button.

“Ow,” Stefan replied, wincing. “Don’t….”

Aw, poor sore tummy,” Katie cooed. “Let me make it better.” She led him unprotesting to the sofa and sat him down. Gently, rhythmically, she massaged his aching stomach. Oh, that felt good. Stefan stifled a belch.

“Let it out,” Katie admonished. He did, next time, which was only a moment later.

After a time, Stefan’s stomach ache had diminished, and the beer buzz was wearing off. Katie swiftly agreed to watch a movie, and they popped in “Failure to Launch.”

“Matthew McConaughey’s cute,” Katie observed idly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah … but too skinny for my taste.”

“Mmm,” Stefan said. Oh, Stefan thought.

The next morning, Stefan examined himself critically in the mirror. Basic model, he thought. Brown hair, average height, averagely decent looks, a decent complement of bicep, chest, glute and quad muscles … and an utterly average belly. It just kind of sat there, between sternum and pelvis, a little soft to the touch but also firm enough to acknowledge Stefan’s regular situps and pushups. Shrugging, he shaved and dressed.

He gave his belly little thought until a couple of nights later, when he met Katie for dinner. The Casino, though it offered no gambling, was decorated in red and black and bore murals of Old Monte Carlo. Katie surprised him by suggesting an appetizer … and he barely noticed that when it came, she ate hardly any of it. As a result, he ate all of it, making him thirsty, which caused him to drain his beer rather quickly.

Similarly, Katie ate only about half her chicken Monterey, urging Stefan to finish it. He did, but two tall glasses of beer, an appetizer, a big entrée and half of Katie’s had made him awfully full.

“Dessert?” Katie said suggestively.

Stefan stifled a belch. “No.” He patted his taut, bulging belly for emphasis. “Stuffed already.”

The pout that flitted across Katie’s face was hardly noticeable, and Stefan hardly noticed it.

Leaving the restaurant, they strolled along the sidewalk through the revitalized downtown. They walked with their arms round each other, Katie’s free hand stroking Stefan’s middle as though unconsciously. It felt pretty good.

“Ooh, look!” Katie pointed. “That new wine bar is open.”

They chose an outdoor table and a good red wine. Katie barely sipped at hers, and Stefan finished his glass and hers. By then, he was relaxed enough to agree to “share” a dessert. Of course, Katie took one whole bite and somehow Stefan didn’t quite notice that he’d eaten all of it. They stood to leave.

“Oof.” Stefan pitched forward, pressing heavily on the table for balance. His overloaded gut pressed heavily against his waistband and bulged roundly over his belt. How much had he eaten?

“Steady now.” Katie righted his equilibrium and slid her arm around him again. Slowly, they strolled toward Stefan’s apartment. As before, Katie stroked Stefan’s middle. By now Stefan was really uncomfortably stuffed, and his bladder was full as well, but the massage he was receiving felt wonderful.

Back in the apartment, Pete was, from the sound of it, tinkering in his bedroom and Philip was watching ESPN.

“Hey loverboy.”

Stefan blushed at the greeting.“What?”

Phil smirked. “Your face is red, your tie is loosened, your shirt is rumpled, and you look like the cat that ate the canary.”

Stefan belched. “Ate more than the canary,” he admitted. He yawned and stretched, his shirt tugging upward and his distended belly thrusting forward.

Philip looked at him curiously. “You didn’t drive, did you?”

“No, walked. Why?”

“You’ve had a few.”

Stefan thought. He had indeed. “Better sleep it off,” he said, walking back to his bedroom. Once in the bedroom, the first thing he did, fumbling hastily, was to undo his belt and unfasten his pants. His belly surged forward and he belched loudly. Ah, that felt better. He slid his hand up under his shirt and pushed his underwear down below the belly bulge, rubbing his bloated midsection.

With his other hand, he yanked the underwear off. He paused long enough to yank off the tie and unbutton his shirt, shrugging awkwardly out of it. Clad in only his socks, he padded into the bathroom across the hall and locked the door. Wincing at the brightness of the lights, he looked at himself. He looked a little drunk, he thought, but it was his waistline that was of interest at the moment.

His abdomen was taut and distended, a thin, deep red groove where his pants and underwear had pressed into it. Absently he scratched it as he examined himself. His engorged belly, bloated and taut, bulged out visibly. Frowning, he popped a couple of digestive tablets. Too sleepy to think about it, he padded back to his room and fell backward onto the bed, instantly asleep. He dreamed all night of being on the beach in a Speedo, a massive gut thrusting outward.

The next morning, he examined himself in the mirror while lathering up. He turned sideways and poked at his midriff. Was it bigger? It was thankfully deflated after the previous night’s gorge, but it seemed to Stefan that it was beginning to look a little flabby. He finished shaving and returned to his bedroom, where he cranked up his CD player and worked out with a vengeance. He was seeing Katie again tonight, and this time, he thought, he wouldn’t make a pig of himself.

Again, though, Katie ordered appetizers. This time, Stefan noticed that she wasn’t eating any. He sighed. “Katie, what’s your game?”

Katie wasn’t stupid. She bit her lip. Caught. She looked down, looked away, and finally looked back. “I … um … I think it’s really cute when a guy’s belly is stuffed to bursting,” she blurted, then turned her head away, embarrassed.

Stefan was taken aback.

“What?”

“I … oh … please don’t make me say it again.”

Stefan cupped her chin in his hand and guided her gaze back to his. “I’m not criticizing here. I just don’t quite understand,” he said frankly.

She averted her eyes, then looked at him again. “It’s not, uh, uh, big guys exactly,” she stammered. “But seeing someone who’s well-built like you and his tummy all sticking out, stuffed, well, wow … I just get all excited.”

“Oh.” Oh, indeed. Stefan didn’t know what to say. It was as if Katie had confessed a preference for light bondage, or backdoor action, or … Stefan’s head swam. He’d never in his life heard of someone getting turned on by someone else’s overeating. At the same time, he quite enjoyed Katie’s company, and he enjoyed the person he was when he was with her.

“Well,” he finally said, just to be saying something. A little clarification would help, he thought.
“You want me … to, um … umm … stuff myself … because … it turns you on … but not to … get fat… right?”

Katie nodded, pleased that he was so quick on the odd uptake.

Stefan sighed. Absently he picked up a stuffed mushroom and popped it into his mouth, dabbing at his chin. He chewed and swallowed, then said, “On a practical level, it’s rather hard to stuff oneself without actually getting fat, you know that, right?”

“Yeeessss…. but … well … you work out … and I um, I think, um, it’s doable,” Katie stammered.

Stefan looked at her for a long moment. Katie broke the impasse by picking up another mushroom.

That dinner was certainly like no other Stefan had had, primarily for the conversation, rather than the food. Both agreed that one, gorging took practice, like hiking long distances, and two, if he was going to stuff himself, it should be at a far less expensive restaurant, and three, if he didn’t want to actually get fat, they shouldn’t indulge too often. He ate quite a bit that evening, however.

By the time dinner was over, his tummy was stuffed and pressing painfully against his waistband. As before, they strolled through downtown, Katie casually and discreetly sliding her hand up and down his distended belly. As they walked, Katie also tugged his shirt untucked and unbuttoned his top pants button, which eased his fullness. They didn’t talk much; they didn’t need to.

On Tuesday, Stefan escorted Katie to a pops concert and on Wednesday she accompanied him to the boring opening reception for an artist who had gotten a grant. That Friday, they had plans. Pete was in Las Vegas at a trade show, and Philip was on vacation in Pittsburgh, visiting his fiancée, a medical resident. Stefan had the place to himself. Katie arrived a little before dusk, bringing an overnight bag with her, and promptly changed from her work clothes into a T-shirt and shorts. She’d also brought two bags of groceries, and washed her hands and set about making dinner. Stefan lounged against the counter, nursing a glass of Cotes-du-Rhone and making gentle conversation.

“So … I stuff myself … then what?”

Katie shrugged. “Not a whole lot. Just let me gaze admiringly at your full tummy.”

“Performance art,” Stefan joked, making Katie’s lips twitch.

“This,” she replied, “is performance art.” She showed him the chicken and stuffing casserole she was sliding into the oven. “And more to come. Side dishes include spaghetti, salad, hot rolls with butter, fruit compote, fresh peaches over ice cream, and hot apple pie … with more ice cream.”
Stefan moaned unthinkingly, and Katie turned to quiet him with a soft kiss on the lips.

“Mm,” she murmured, tasting the wine.

Forty-five minutes later, the CD player on in the background, Katie served Stefan his first plateful. He lifted his glass to her in a toast, then picked up his fork. For her part, Katie ate a salad and a modest serving of casserole, but mostly puttered around the kitchen, watching Stefan, watching his belly, and periodically giving it an encouraging little massage.

Two large helpings of casserole later, Stefan was getting full. “How much can I hold?” he mumbled with his mouth full. His stomach bulged, and his pants were feeling snug.

“You’d be surprised,” Katie murmured. She replaced his wineglass with a tall glass of iced tea and laid a plateful of spaghetti and salad beside him. As he ate, Katie squatted beside him and rhythmically massaged his steadily growing stomach. It poked out above his waistband and pulled the fabric of his shirt tight. She rose and fed him a hot buttered roll, piece by piece, then another and another. Stefan pressed a hand to his now-protruding belly and coaxed up a belch.

“I’m getting awfully full,” he admitted.

“I know,” Katie murmured. “But there’s room for more.” She undid his top pants button and laid the fruit compote beside him. Stefan wasn’t sure why he’d always liked something that looked like roadkill in a bowl, but he had, and he spooned it down willingly. The bowl empty, he shifted in his seat. His stomach hurt, and he was astonishingly stuffed, his overloaded gut weighing him down. With every breath he thought he might burst. His pants had scrunched up under his distended stomach. Man, did his pants feel tight.

“Here.” Katie carefully helped him to his feet. “Dessert later.”

Stefan pitched forward, swayed, wincing as his full stomach sloshed heavily. He was stuffed, his belly felt hard as a rock, and as soon as he stood the sides of his overworked pants flopped open.
He belched. “Scuse me. Now … (urp) … now what?”

Wordlessly, Katie tugged off his shirt, revealing his strong chest and arms and that full tummy. He stood immobilized in the kitchen as she gently rubbed a drizzle of olive oil into his rounded gut. Oh, that felt good, he thought. She guided him to the sofa. He fell heavily onto it with a grunt and closed his eyes as Katie continued massaging his aching and bloated midriff.

“Stand up.”

Stefan did, grunting with effort.

“Just let me look at you.” Katie circled Stefan as she might a statue. Stefan, feeling like a goof just standing there, began to make Greek-god poses, making Katie giggle. She gazed at his distended belly for a while, then gave it a tentative poke.

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” Katie murmured, leaning in to give the offended stomach a kiss. She was a little surprised at how it felt. Rock-hard, with no give, no softness at all. His gut gleamed roundly in the light, perching above his hips. Katie squirmed in pleasure as she struggled to undo the buttons of his pants. As she tugged them down, his unrestrained stomach bulged a little more. She took off his underwear. He was now naked, muscular, sleepy looking, and with a belly that was to die for. Spherical and firm, it rose from his hips like a work of art, a testament to satiety.

Stefan blinked. “Mph. Katie … could we (urp) … sit?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Katie helped Stefan back to the sofa and draped an afghan over him. Gently and steadily she massaged his aching stomach as he half-dozed, stroking her hair.

After a while, she fed him peaches and ice cream, then massaged his bloated belly. Slowly, slowly, he ate a large slice of apple pie … also with ice cream. Between the two desserts, he’d downed nearly a quart of ice cream. He shivered as he scraped the bowl clean. His stomach throbbed and churned, weighing him down, sagging onto his lap from the feel of it. (In reality, it was impressive, but protruding primarily outward.) He opened his mouth to speak and hiccupped sharply instead. “Oh!”

“Sweetie,” Katie murmured. “You okay?”

“(Hic!) Depends,” Stefan mumbled. “I’m (hic!) about … to burst.” He paused to catch his breath. “But … my belly … isn’t … (hic!) the only … thing that’s … hard.” He hiccupped again and guided Katie’s hand downward from his swollen and aching stomach. What lay below was also firm and throbbingly full.

Katie smiled and they headed for the bedroom.

 

[zonker]

 

[rachel]

 

[lizzy]

 

[zonker]