Chemical Reaction - by Big Beautiful Dreamer (~BHM, Romance, ~MWG)

[Big Beautiful Dreamer]

~BHM, Romance, ~MWG - The slim and sexy co-ed sets her cap for the chubby nerd, to the surprise of his handsome roommate.

Chemical Reaction

by Big Beautiful Dreamer
​

“Hey.” Steve threw a Nerf ball at the back of Rick’s head. Rick ignored it.

“Hey!”

Finally, Rick turned around in his chair, throwing in a sigh and an eye roll. “I’m studying here,” he pointed out. “Studying? Ever heard of it?”

Steve rolled his eyes in response. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s the second week of classes, dude.”

“And, apparently unlike you, I have papers and reading assignments rolling right along.”

“Not my fault you chose a dorky major,” Steve pointed out unhelpfully.

“Okay. What. What do you want that will get you off my case?”

Steve grinned. “The girls in the apartment across the hall. Gotta love off-campus living. Neighbors….”

“What about ’em?”

“They’ve invited us over for beers,” Steve said.

“Invited you.”

“No. Us.”

“They obviously haven’t seen me,” Rick said automatically. He was used to putting himself down before anyone else could. It saved time.

Steve cleared his throat theatrically.

“Okay, okay,” Rick said. He tossed his reading glasses onto the desk. “One beer, all right?”

Two hours later, as they were opening their third beers, Rick was subconsciously observing a phenomenon. Steve, who usually had girls falling at his feet, had repeatedly struck out, or at best grounded out, with Robin, who was busy … throwing herself at Rick. Robin was tall and leggy, with shoulder-length chestnut hair, an enviable figure, and a melodious voice. The kind of girl who usually never even glanced at Rick. The other girl, Anna, who was more Rick’s speed, was so introverted that she almost wasn’t in the room.

When they finally achieved their own apartment again, it was nearly midnight, and Rick knew it was useless to even think about resuming his studies.

Steve threw himself down on the sofa and heeled his shoes off. “Dang, man.”

“What? It was … fun,” Rick said slowly, the word unfamiliar in his mouth.

Steve snorted. “That bimbo.”

“Who? Robin?”

“Yes, Robin,” Steve mimicked. “Gave me the cold shoulder all evening.” He snorted again. “Maybe she’s a lesbo.”

Rick stifled a laugh. He was used to this. To Steve, any girl who didn’t immediately succumb to his arsenal of charm had to be gay. What other explanation was there? In truth, Steve seldom had to work for a girl’s attentions, or anything else. He was six foot four, with wavy blond hair, perfect teeth (five thousand dollars’ worth of teenage orthodontia), broad shoulders, firmly muscled chest and belly, year-round tan, and a lacrosse scholarship. It didn’t matter what he majored in, because in another year he was gliding straight into his father’s investment bank’s training program.

Rick, on the other hand, seldom got a second glance. Or even a first. He was accustomed to it. He stood an average five ten, had average brown hair, and was of average pudgy build. He did care what he majored in, and it was chemistry. He had to go back-to-back through undergrad and master’s programs and then hoped to find a job as a research chemist. He spent his days in labs and classes and his evenings bent over his books, and went to parties only when Steve prodded him into it.

Rick yawned hugely. He’d downed four beers in three hours and was a little buzzed. “Goin’ to bed,” he mumbled.

Steve sighed. “Yeah, me too, I guess,” he said. As an afterthought: “Her tits are too small, anyway.”

The next morning, Rick was sleepy and unfocused in chem lab. He barely noticed the white-coated student who slipped into a seat next to him. “I’m your new lab partner,” a familiar voice said. Rick took a good look and blinked.

“Oh. Um. Robin?”

She grinned brilliantly. “Full marks. Robin. I live across the hall with my roommate, Anna. We met last night?” Her voice sloped upward with hesitation.

“Right, right. Me and Steve,” Rick said intelligently. He raised his eyebrows. “You’re a chem major too?”

“I am, actually,” Robin said, lowering her gaze. “I transferred here this year from UMBC. That’s prob’ly why we haven’t met.”

“Ohh,” Rick said, recognition dawning. “Well. Nice to meet you, um … again.” He felt his ears warm. Crap! As usual, when a girl had actually deigned to chat with him, he had struck out. Steve would have known what to say.

“I really enjoyed talking with you last night,” Robin said softly, before the assignment was revealed on the whiteboard and work got under way.

Afterward, a prompting Rick had never known before nudged him, and he actually thought to invite her to have lunch. She blushed appealingly. “Great. I’m starved.” At his suggestion, they strolled to a diner a block off campus.

“I’ve been living in Baltimore for two years already,” she admitted, “but still can’t find my way around much more than the neighborhood where UMBC is. Johns Hopkins land is sort of rare air for me still, even though they’re not that far apart. In two years, I haven’t been north of Frederick Road or east of Patapsco Avenue.”

“So you’re not from Baltimore originally?” Rick asked.

Over lunch, she revealed that she was from Rockville, near the Pennsylvania border; that she had two older brothers; that her father was a high school history teacher; and that her career plans were identical to Rick’s. Rick, in turn, told her that he was the oldest with a much younger brother and sister; that his parents both sold real estate; and that he was from Dover, Delaware.

Throughout, a train of thought kept chugging through Rick’s mind. “Pretty girl … beautiful girl … talking to me … eating lunch with me … like a date … I hope people see me with her …” So preoccupied was he with keeping up conversation and marveling at his luck that he absently scarfed down a huge burger, two tall glasses of Coke, all of his fries, and most of hers, only noticing what he was doing when their hands touched – on her plate.

“Oops,” Rick mumbled, embarrassed.

She grinned. “It’s okay. I really don’t eat fries.”

“No, no, let me get you some more.”

“Really, no,” Robin insisted. “I don’t eat fries. They just come with the sandwich.” She persuaded him to let the matter drop.

It was only later, back in the apartment, that Rick’s old acquaintances paranoia and suspicion came out to play. “Bet she’s just after my chemistry notes,” he thought. “Maybe she really wants Steve – yeah, that’s it. She’s just laying the groundwork. I’m a convenient doormat, like always.” He belched, pressing a hand to his bulging stomach. He’d eaten a lot. That burger had been the size of a Frisbee, plus two big piles of fries – his and hers, and almost a liter of pop was sloshing around in his now-swollen and aching belly, making gurgling sounds. He belched again and let his belt out a notch. “Oof. Maybe a nap.” He was asleep before the thought was out.

A knock at the door woke him. He scrubbed his face with his hands and stumbled over to open it. Steve was at lacrosse practice or something.

Robin stood there with a plate of warm brownies, the scent almost making Rick dizzy.

“Oh. Um. Come in.” He stepped back. She set the brownies on the counter.

“I, um, bake whenever I get stressed or need a break from studying,” she admitted. “And then I need to … um … give the results to someone.” She dropped her gaze. “Were you studying the results from today’s lab?”

“I was studying the insides of my eyelids,” Rick admitted. “To be honest, I didn’t completely get that process today.”

“Ooh! I think I did,” Robin said. “Here, let me get my notes.” In ten seconds she was gone and back with her notes. They sat at the kitchen counter on barstools, looking over the notes, Rick dropping crumbs on the papers and brushing them away. Though he was still full, the brownies smelled so good, and they tasted as good as they smelled, each rich warm mouthful making him want another and another. They were big, palm-sized, but he downed several, ignoring the feeling of his swelling midriff pushing against his waistband and forgetting that he’d had to loosen his belt earlier.

“I see it now,” Rick said gratefully. “It’s easy with such a pretty partner,” someone else said, the words coming out of his own mouth. Zowee.

Robin blushed again.

Just then Steve bulled into the room, all shoulders and sweat and stick. “Oh. Hi,” he said to Robin.

“Hi,” Robin said coolly. She slid off the stool and retrieved her notes. “See you in class,” she said to Rick with a smile. Steve remained in the doorway, blocking her exit. “Excuse me,” she finally said pointedly, and Steve moved aside, his body language making it clear that he was doing her a favor.

“Ya know, you could be a little nicer there, Steve,” Rick said, popping another brownie half into his mouth.

“Nice takes too long,” Steve retorted, his large hand hovering over the brownies. “Nah. Don’t want to have to work ’em off.” He aimed a quick withering look at Rick’s own distended gut, pulled taut with burgers, fries, pop and four large brownies, then thundered off to the bathroom to shower.

Rick remained on the barstool. He was thirsty after all those brownies. His mind still whirling with Robin’s apparent interest in him – was it real? – he poured himself a tall glass of milk. He gulped it down, pausing here and there only because it was so cold. Ahh. Better. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and belched. Oops.

Steve, dripping, padded his towel-clad self over to the fridge and pulled out a sports drink. “What was she doing over here?”

“Going over today’s chemistry notes,” Rick said mildly, not adding that she and he seemed to be mixing up something of their own.

Steve rolled his eyes. The silence suddenly felt awkward. Rick set the glass in the sink and took his notes to his desk, soon immersed in study, earplugs in. Steve channel surfed.

Over the next few weeks, Rick’s suspicion over Robin’s motives abated, as he and his neighbor across the hall soon developed a pattern – one he rather enjoyed. At least twice a week, usually coinciding with lab days, they would have lunch together, necessitating a post-lunch nap for Rick; in the late afternoons, she would come over with lab notes and one of her homemade stress relievers: brownies, blondies, chocolate chip cookies, apple pie, oatmeal-raisin cookies, peanut butter squares, molasses drops, strawberry tarts. Occasionally Steve would scarf a handful in passing, but he didn’t have much of a sweet tooth.

Rick, however, did, and the increase in intake began to show up as the semester wore on. The lunches and treats that tumbled down his throat were finding a home around a steadily thickening waistline, softening backside, and fuller face. His midsection grew rounder and began to hang over his belts, shirts tugging across softening belly, chest, and arms. Pulling his jeans up when he got dressed was no longer a single motion but a two-hitch move, interrupted by his backside, which now caught the pants on their way up. By fall break, though he didn’t own a scale, he noticed that his jeans were getting pretty snug, as in all but impossible to hitch closed. They required concentrated tugging, huffing and puffing, sucking in, and wrestling to get the button closed. Before Thanksgiving break he reluctantly invested in two new (larger) pairs of jeans, slightly dismayed at the numbers on the waist size. He was off to Delaware for the holiday; she was carpooling with a classmate to Rockville. Suddenly the five-day break seemed endless.

“I’ll e-mail,” Robin promised, her lips tickling his ear.

“Me too,” Rick mumbled back, missing her already.

At his parents’ house, Rick went through the motions, enjoying his family despite missing robin, and his parents didn’t seem to notice the pounds thickening his waistline. He ate so much Thanksgiving dinner that he actually dozed off briefly at the table, although no one noticed, probably because everyone ate a lot. The new jeans did feel rather snug on the drive back.

The rush of deepening friendship was throwing Rick for a loop. The only reason he was able to keep his grades up was that Robin was tops in chemistry as well as in cooking, and she made a terrific lab and study partner. Steve, having eventually clued to their relationship, managed to insult her to Rick whenever he could get away with it, although shortly before Christmas break he started pursuing a cheerleader and became occupied with the hunt. The month-long respite from classes was welcome, as was the steady supply of holiday treats that adorned his mom’s kitchen counter; so that although he missed Robin, and they e-mailed frequently, he was reasonably content with de-stressing and snacking (were they related?). He got away with jeans and a sweater for church on Christmas Eve, claiming he had forgotten to pack his suit. (He had, but only because he knew full well it didn’t fit anymore.) The new jeans started behaving like the old ones, catching on his butt and then requiring twisting, breath-holding, and grunting before they would fasten, leaving him red-faced and with a painfully pinched-in waist.

His mother had a scale and finally, in the name of New Year’s resolutions, he stepped nervously onto it on January 1. The unforgiving machine showed him that his five-ten frame now carried an eye-widening 215 pounds, up from the 190 he’d weighed in at when he’d last stepped on the scale … in August. That was … hm … twenty-five pounds. Holy smokes. Time to trim down.

Once he returned to Baltimore, and reunited with Robin, though, that dismaying number and any and all New Year’s resolutions slipped away. Robin had gotten back the night before he had, and greeted him with a full-out dinner … and dessert … and then dessert in the bedroom. Rick forgot nearly everything.

The next morning it dawned on Rick with disturbing clarity. All that baking of Robin’s was going right to his burgeoning belly. He’d gotten out of bed to take a shower, and it was while soaping up that he realized how much more there seemed to be to soap. He finished and wrapped a towel around himself.

“Robin?”

“Mm?”

“C’mere.” Robin, still appealingly nude, joined him before the mirror. “Do I look fat to you?” There is no right answer to that question. Robin fielded it gamely.

“I love the way you look,” she said, giving him a side-hug.

“Do I?” Rick persisted.

Robin sighed and shook her head. Her bed-tumbled hair tickled Rick’s face. “No … you don’t look fat to me,” she said firmly, “because I find you very … very … handsome,” punctuating her affirmation with kisses.

“Robin,” Rick mumbled, kissing her back. “I’ve put on twenty-five pounds since August.”

“Really?” Robin didn’t sound terribly interested.

“Most of it … mmf … in brownies … from … mmf … my lab partner.”

“Should I stop?”

Yes, Rick thought, but, “No … I like your brownies …”

“Is that all you like?”

Rick scooped her up and carried her, shrieking happily, back to bed.

Classes continued, labs continued, lunches and brownies continued. Robin and Rick coached each other through chem labs, and Rick steadily added inches to his expanding waistline, but somehow he minded less than he thought he would. Steve, ever ready to tease, added a whole new lineup to his repertoire as Rick moved beyond pudgy, but, strangely, the tubbier he got, the more affectionate Robin became. Rick knew something was a little off there, but couldn’t be troubled to question it.

The spring semester seemed to drag less than usual, particularly once Robin and Rick laid plans for spring break: a week at her parents’ house in St. Michaels … without the parents. They arrived at sunset and set off for a stroll down the shore. Though the evening was mild, Rick had no plans to take his shirt off. Finally he brought it up.

“Robin,” he said.

“Mm.”

“I’ve put on a ton of weight this year.”

Robin, whose left hand was twined through his right, put her right hand on his stomach, which was a lot rounder and softer than it had been in September.

“So?”

Rick blinked. That was about the last response he would have predicted. “Um … so … I’m fat?”

Robin laughed and patted his protruding gut. “I repeat. So?”

“You don’t … mind?” Rick asked, confused. Everyone knew that fat people were losers, right? Surely he was a lazy, undisciplined slob as well as a dork.

Robin stopped and turned. She now held both his hands and was gazing into his eyes. “Richard Lancaster Perry,” she said firmly. “I love you. I find your build very appealing, hard though that may be to believe. Nothing pleases me more in bed than cuddling up to your snuggly self. Is that clear enough?” She tipped her head to one side with a look that said, It had better be.

“Oh,” Rick said, his mind whirling.

“So … we’re okay, now, yes? No problems here?”

Rick freed up his right hand and slid it around her shoulder as they resumed strolling. “No problems here.”

Spring break flew by much too fast and suddenly they were back in school. In Rick’s apartment, Steve, for once, was fretting about academics. Rick was startled. He’d never known Steve to worry about, or even mention, a grade, an exam, or anything class-related.

“I’m toast, dude,” Steve informed him as he paced. “I’m doing worse in modern social history than I thought. Wells tells me that if I don’t make an A – an A! – on the exam, I’m going to fail the course.

“So…”

“So … Dad’s never given a rat about me making top grades, but I have to keep up at least a 2.5 GPA to stay on the lacrosse team. If I get an F for the semester, my GPA will be too low. I’ll get bounced from the team!”

Ah, thought Rick. Light dawned. It wasn’t school per se that had Steve worried but his all-important lacrosse.

“How do you study, man?” It seemed a legitimate question, so Rick was careful to keep his voice neutral as he answered.

“Form a study group with a few others in the class. Show up at the sessions. Pay attention. Take notes.”

Steve flopped onto the sofa, clutching his blond hair. “My head hurts just thinking about it.”

For the next week, tension shimmered in the guys’ apartment, and Steve even took to snacking on the ever-present plate of goodies supplied by Robin. The closer the exam got, the more nervous Steve got. Finally, he dragged himself off to the appointed time and place, deep circles under his eyes attesting to his lack of sleep.

When he returned, Robin gathered her lab notes and slipped out, understanding. Steve crashed onto the sofa. “Well,” he said.

“Well?”

“Oh,” Steve said casually, “not bad.” Rick looked at him sharply. Not bad? Not bad?! Then he shook his head. Typical Steve. Wind everyone else up, then act like whatever it was didn’t exist.

It didn’t take long for Rick to learn what was going on. Steve elbowed Rick out of the way in front of the mirror a few mornings later to put on a tie. “Have to go to the Honor Court,” he admitted. “They say they want to talk to me about that exam.”

Rick’s eyebrows flew up. “Did you … you know … cheat?”

Steve became very busy knotting his tie.

Rick, who had no classes that day, was snuggled next to Robin as they read a chemistry textbook together (oh, so romantic). The knock on the door startled them.

“Mom!” Rick blurted. “Um, Mom!” He stepped back to let his mother in.

“Hon, I have to go visit Nell, she’s in the hospital again, so I thought I would … stop by …” his mother’s voice trailed off as she noticed both Rick’s physique and Robin at the same time.

Rick, blushing, made the introductions. Robin said, calmly, “Very nice to meet you. Rick, I’ll see you later,” and slid out.

“Um,” Rick said again, and backed into the living room, sinking onto the sofa. His mother perched on the desk chair.

“Richard,” his mother exclaimed. “You’ve, uh, put on some weight this year, haven’t you?”

Rick’s mind raced. Lie, deny, or step up to the plate? He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, um, I have. Robin, is, um, she bakes a lot.”

“Doesn’t she … ah … mind?”

“Um, no,” Rick said, courage somehow welling into him. He straightened up and stopped looking at his shoes. “You know, she doesn’t. In fact, she tells me that she likes the way I look.” He didn’t add So there, but his voice did.

Rick’s mother opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Oh.” She drew a deep breath, rejiggering her thoughts. “Oh. Well. I thought you might like to go see Nell with me.”

“Yeah, okay.” Was she really going to let it drop?

Surprisingly, she seemed to. They talked of other things on the way to the hospital and about his aunt on the way back. As they neared the apartment, Rick dropped his other bombshell.

“I won’t be living at home this summer. I’ve gotten an internship at DuPont. Um, Robin has too. We’re going to be sharing an apartment with another DuPont intern. I’ll, um, stop in sometimes.”

“Oh, honey,” his mom said. “Any other surprises today?”

Rick laughed with relief. “No, that’ll do it,” he said, one of his family’s signature phrases.

When he got back, Steve was on the sofa, beer in hand, tie undone.

“How’d it go?”

Steve swore. “Those pigs … said I cheated … the professor testified and that weasel Rothman … and that other weasel Fuller … They’re taking the case ‘under advisement’ and will notify me by tomorrow.”

“What’s the worst case?”

Steve stood, swaying slightly, and regained his balance. “What do you think? I could get thrown out of school for cheating!”

“Well, did you?”

Steve looked out the window. “I just needed a little help. No big deal,” he mumbled. Rick shook his head. Now was hardly the time for a lecture on morals. Instead, he piled a few cookies onto a plate, took a pop from the fridge, and sat down at his desk, automatically shifting to ease the pinch of his waistband. He knew he’d put on weight since the last time he’d stepped on a scale, four months ago, but it had preoccupied him less and less lately.

After a few hours, he called on Robin and they went to get some dinner, deliberately staying out late. Steve was asleep when Rick returned.

The next day was a lab day. After lunch with Robin, she and Rick strolled into the apartment. Steve was there, shirtless and already half lit.

“I’ve been invited not to return in the fall,” Steve mimicked. He waved his arm, gesturing around the apartment. “Guess the fat dork will have to find another roommate.”

Rick knew better than to rise to the bait. “Sorry, man,” he said. He didn’t ask Steve what he would do now. He would just keep his head down for the remaining few weeks of school and clear out of there. Steve would go home to his parents, his Beemer, his summer on the Cape, and his dad would manage something. Steve would be looked after just fine.

On the last day of school, Rick and Robin, Steve and Anna, Robin’s mousy roommate, sat around the girls’ apartment. Steve had thrown off his earlier dismay, as Rick had expected, and was full of plans about the tan he would get and the college girls he would meet on the Cape. Rick hauled himself up from the futon.

“Guess now is a good time to let you know my … our … plans,” he said, swallowing a mouthful of brownie. Robin stood, too, and they laced their arms around each other.

“We’re engaged!”

Anna squealed with happiness. Steve blinked. “Cool, dude,” he managed.

“We’ll wait until after we graduate to get married,” Robin was telling Anna. “Then, hopefully we will have been accepted to the same master’s program and … well … we’ll be each other’s roommate!” She blushed rose and cream, up to the tips of her ears. Though Anna and Steve were still in the room, as far as Rick was concerned he and Robin were in their own universe. He embraced her, and as her lips cushioned on to his, all he could think of was that this was his favorite chemical reaction of all.

 

[Tad]

 

[Muir]

 

[Big Beautiful Dreamer]

 

[Muir]

 

[FreneticFang]