BHM Comfort (~wg, ~gentle femdomme)

Dimensions Magazine

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Well-Known Member
Mar 20, 2017
In a salt fog
“I’ve got a little bit of a headache,” he says, stepping into the home office just as she closes her laptop and pushes her chair away from the desk. She looks at him sharply, taking in his tall frame, the dress shirt skimming his pot belly as he looks bashfully at the door handle in his hand.
“Do you want me to...?” Her tone is gently questioning. His brown eyes meet hers plaintively.
“Yes, please,” he says.
She sighs.
“Go get changed into your pjs, then, and wait for me in the bed.”

She brings him a face cloth soaked in cool water and lays it over his eyes. She begins a slow face massage, encouraging him to relax his jaw. Her hands move gently but firmly over his cheeks, his temples, his brow. The hair on the sides of his head has all gone grey. His face is fuller now than it was when they met five years ago. Then he was a runner. Now, well. Her fingers move down to caress his neck, feeling the plump roll that blurs his jawline and wobbles under his chin.

She leaves him for a while, but it’s only to prepare the next step: a fresh cool cloth for his eyes and a heaping bowl of steaming hot porridge, bland and filling and slightly sweet from the sprinkle of brown sugar melting into it. It’s easily four whole servings. He sits up, back propped against the pillows, and she feeds him spoonful after spoonful, until every bite is inside his warm, stretched tummy.

He lays down again and she pulls the elastic waistband of his pyjamas down to free the dome of his belly. She begins to rub his distended tum, feeling the contrast between the hard-pack stomach area and the soft, doughy flesh of his lower belly. He’s a long way from the sleek 180 pound man he was when they met. He’s even a considerable distance from the 210 man he was when they started dating. She’s not sure, exactly, but she would estimate that he’s gained about 50 pounds since them. His belly carries much of it, but lately his torso and his chest have thicked and softened as well. He no longer looks like a middle aged man gone slightly to seed. He looks, well, fat. A smile curves her lips.

She tucks the blanket around him, kisses his forehead and smoothes his hair. His height keeps most people from noticing the thinning circle at the crown of his head. But here with her, he is totally vulnerable, secure in her loving arms. She kisses him again and goes out to kitchen to prepare supper: spinach, mushroom and chorizo penne in a cream sauce.

He pads barefoot into the kitchen in time to join her for a bowl of the hearty meal. A regular serving this time, although his belly is testing the buttons on his striped pyjama top. Together they clean up after the meal and then move onto the couch. He lays half-curled with his head cradled on her ample, soft breasts.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asks as she ruffles his hair.
He sighs.
“It’s the negotiations. We hit a snag today and I think it’s undone most of the work my team has done in the last three months... If we can’t get this deal nailed down soon, the company may decide to restructure our whole department. There’s rumblings from HQ... I just needed to be taken care of for a little while. I hope that’s okay. I know it’s not what a man is supposed to do...”
She gazes into his brown eyes, seeing even now the lingering vestiges of a fear that she won’t accept him as he is.
“Dear heart. I don’t know what a man is supposed to do, but I like you just the way you are. I like to baby you, and coddle you, and make you my spoiled little piglet.”

She pokes his belly as she says this.
“Hey!” He squirms. His hands move to the curve of his gut, as if exploring it for the first time.
“Getting fat,” he says tentatively.
“Yes,” she says in a matter-of-fact, cheerful way.
“Are you...okay with it?” He prods his plump belly dubiously.
“You know I’ll support you, whatever you do. But if it was up to me, you’d be well-fed and well-loved at all times.” She hesitates. “Are you okay with it?”
“I’ve told you that I used to be heavier when I was younger. Before I took up running. I think... I think I’m pretty close to my all-time highest weight again. But it feels...right? Like my body is mine.”

There’s a red flush to his pale neck as he says, “Can you...can you call me your piglet again? I think I liked that.”
“Oh ho! My little piglet, I think it’s time for an inspection. Take off those clothes. I need to see if my piglet is nearly fat enough for market.”
He can move with alacrity when he is motivated to do so. He strips off the pyjamas to reveal long limbs, legs still relatively slender, softened thighs, the slightest layer of pudge around his cock, already erect and at attention. The buttons fly open to reveal the thatch of dark hair on his chest, the plump handfuls of man boobs, the surprisingly thick softness of his upper arms.
“On all fours,” she commands. His belly hangs down, a bloated bag, in this position. She prods and pinches every fattened curve on his body, from his adorable double chin to his cute little tush.
“Hmmm, not fat enough yet,” she says playfully. “My piglet needs gobble up all his feed. In fact, I think it’s time I fill his trough... with blueberry pie and ice cream.”

Not long after, she places a whole pie topped with ice cream on the floor in front of him. “Eat up, my piglet. No hands! As much as you want, while I deal with the other end.”
He plunges his whole face into the dish as she slides a hand between his thighs, forcing them apart so she can touch his balls. Gently rubbing and cupping them as he moans. She grips his cock with one hand while the other moves to press against his sensitive anus.
“Keep eating, dear piglet,” she coos. “Get big and fat for mama, that’s a good boy. I mean piglet.”
“Mama will take care of me?” He pants between bites. His cock is fully, turgidly swollen.
“Always,” she says, slipping a thumb into his ring of joy.
“Oh God,” he cries out, as cum spurts from his member. “Oh Christ oh fuck...” He collapses into half a pie, his whole body heaving as he pants.

She rises to wash her hands and returns to find him still eating the pie. He looks up at her.
“Go wash your face,” she commands. “There’s something else mama needs you to eat.”
She pulls off her pants and sits with her legs spread.