Confessions of a Secret Admirer - by Chubsixtysix (~BHM, ~~WG)

[loopytheone]

Confessions of a Secret Admirer
By Chubsixtysix​

I am an F.A. and a secret admirer. No one knows.

I know the expectations. Beautiful people come from the same cookie cutter.

I know the rules. Relationships between coworkers are frowned upon. Relationships between underlings and supervisors are absolutely forbidden.

As the supervisor of creative projects, I have no business admiring a computer tech 6 years my junior. Raw attraction, however, rarely obeys rules. It was purely academic, in any case, because we were both married.

Caleb was 25 or so when we first met. I found him attractive from the first. He was irresistible with his thick brown hair, eyes that sparkled with intelligence and humor and an easy, crooked smile. At 25, I could still see the geeky teen in him, sporting a little Doonsbury belly on his otherwise slim frame. As an off-the-market coworker, I quickly put my observation of his attractiveness far to the back of my mental storage and appreciated him for his work-appropriate attributes. Caleb was a terrific problem solver, who would go find answers when he didn’t know them off the cuff. More importantly, in some ways, he was always a pleasant and reassuring presence at those nerve-wracking times when the network systems crashed.

We served on a couple of committees together. We had a few mutual friends that had brought us together for the occasional lunch. I would have described us as sitting squarely on the line between friends and acquaintances.

Despite keeping the appropriate professional distance, I couldn’t help noticing – and enjoy noticing – his weight creep up over time. I didn’t really kept track, per se, but a few memories stick out as I think back.

I remember him installing the creative department’s first color printer and someone mentioned that Caleb had just had his first annual review. He looked to be 10 or 15 pounds heavier than he had been when he had started; still not truly fat –just thicker around the middle. But his jacket looked like it would have a hard time buttoning around his thicker middle. His belly had grown and begun to spread to his sides. I couldn’t help smiling as I considered his potential.

After that, I was traveling a lot, and wasn’t able to pay much attention to anyone outside of my department. I did notice in various management memos that he earned two more promotions, which moved him well above the deliver and install stage to software and upgrade training and then to manager of the entire IT Department.

⇐⇒

Years later, I remember attending a Shower-the-Twins party when Caleb’s wife was expecting twins for their 3rd and 4th babies. Somewhere amidst the giant boxes and all the wrapping paper, the man sitting in the office chair of honor had grown well beyond chubby. He looked really happy, full of humor and sporting that adorable crooked grin of his.

Coming in late, I had to make my way to the few available seats in the far corner of the room. Scooting through the crowd, I had the ideal opportunity to observe the guest of honor from every angle without bring attention to my serious BHM watching. His jacket was draped across the back of his chair, leaving him in a pinstriped dress shirt and tie. He had rolled up his sleeves, showing off meaty, but muscular forearms. From the front, I saw that his burgeoning belly spread nearly as wide as the arms of his chair and flowed nearly halfway down his thick thighs.

As I walked around to his side, I watched him try to balance an overlarge box on his undersized lap. He gave up and scooted forward, spreading his legs wide to give his stomach space to hang as he leaned over to open a disappointing giant box of diapers. It definitely looked like too much effort for something as mundane as a box of diapers, but I was very happy to see the back of his shirt become entirely untucked from the effort.

When lunch was served, I camped out in my corner chatting with a few of my designers and watched the goings on with the guest of honor, who was still trapped in the center of attention. A cluster of techies were merciless in teasing him about the overload of “sympathy” weight Caleb had gained for his ever pregnant wife. Funny, the techies joked, that he was never quite that sympathetic when it came to his high performance standards when he reviewed their work. His stomach wobbled as he laughed and parried back and forth, but his deep blush had revealed his embarrassment. Luckily, a female manager soon redirected the bash-fest to target a reckless new geek whose faux pas had apparently become legendary.

Caleb jumped on the chance to escape; figuratively, at least. In reality, he leaned forward and leveraged himself up from the table and efficiently tucked in his shirt tails in a well-practiced move anyone but an FA might have missed. I caught my breath at his full magnitude while standing. Holy BHM, but Caleb had filled out nicely. Not a small fellow at all. To my practiced eye, he must have weighed 340 and it was all in the right places: round ass, thick thighs and enough meat spread everywhere so he wasn’t disproportionate, but most of his weight centered in a gorgeous, gravity-defying belly.

Luckily, my cell phone rang and pulled me away from that party, because my observations had veered well beyond office-appropriate by that time.

I left the conference room and walked upstairs to the landing that overlooked the glass walls of the conference room. I was glad I took my call there and could still watch the party. It gave me a bird’s eye view of my favorite BHM’s every move. He couldn’t help bumping into people as he moved through the crowd. No one seemed to mind, though, and most folks patted his shoulder or waist or stomach in the course of conversation.

I didn’t want to leave and returned a few calls so I could watch longer. I’m glad I did because Caleb finally became comfortable enough to eat his lunch. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that delicious sight. He didn’t eat an enormous amount, but I was impressed by the precision and care that he put into making his four little sandwiches and skill at arranging his lumps of salads so tightly together that he had room to spare. Better yet, I couldn’t help but enjoy his seemingly perfect pleasure as he ate his lunch and two slabs of cake. Still chatting animatedly with folks from all over the company, he seemed to lose himself for a few moments here and there, slowing his chewing and closing his eyes to savor the tastes.

Bounty be, Caleb was all that and more.

⇐⇒

I couldn’t help keeping an eye out for him after that. And how on earth had I missed him before? We were both unavailable, so it was all in the gorgeous scenery category, but a good Caleb-sighting would make my day. I liked how he carried things with one arm, cradled on top of his belly like a parent carrying a child. He didn’t have to do the routine computer set up anymore. But it seemed like he was still willing to get down and dirty when all else failed. It didn’t happen often, but if I took a walk when the company network was down, the sight of Caleb could keep me happy for week. I was fascinated to see him angle and wedge himself under impossibly tight desks and manage to keep his clothes from displaying plumber crack. There were occasional flashes of side roll, but his trousers never failed him. I wondered, could it be Velcro?

Over the next year, I made a point to attend more of the company’s holiday parties and family get-togethers. Our CEO is kind of a character and hosts four major corporate events every year. The 4th of July picnic and Halloween party are big family events held off-site. The Christmas and April Fools parties are catered in the huge atrium at corporate headquarters. Every one of these parties was well-planned and sure to be enjoyable. I know I went to most of them, but the ones that stick out in my memory are the 4th of July picnics.

⇐⇒

The first year after his twins were born, he brought his picture perfect family to the picnic. He looked terrific -- and a little heavier -- next to his very pretty wife. She was much, much smaller than he, but just pear shaped enough that they seemed to match. Each of them was holding one of their six month old twins. An adorable five year old boy held his three year old sister’s hand. Very cute, all around.

⇐⇒

The next year he looked a bit frazzled. The rest of his family was just as well-dressed as the year before, but Caleb had put on another chunk of weight and looked like he might be pushing 400. He had clearly grown out of his outfit quite a few pounds ago. His shorts would not seem to stay where he put them, but constantly slid down under his belly. His madras plaid shirt wasn’t helping any, straining at the buttons and tails untucking. It was nice for me in a purely vicarious FA kind of way, but I didn’t like seeing him look unhappy. His wife kept reprimanding him and the shrill tone of her voice carried quite a distance. I was pretty sure everyone there heard some of it. I tried not to pay attention, but couldn’t help hearing quite a few “if you had stuck to your diet’s”, a couple “I’m not going to put up with this forever’s” and one really nasty “I’m ashamed to be seen with you.” Poor Caleb.

⇐⇒

His family and wedding ring were missing by the time the next 4th of July rolled around. If I remember correctly, he looked a little deflated and lost. Of course, I was too busy watching my own life fall apart that year to pay much attention. That was the year my ex and I sent our daughter Ella off to college and called off all pretenses about our marriage. It was very civilized and friendly. But there’s no denying it was life changing.

⇐⇒

I ran into Caleb by the mini-golf course at the next year’s 4th of July picnic.

I had been nursing a gin and tonic on the shaded deck overlooking the mini-golf, watching families, couples, teens. There were groups of all levels of play; some just learning; some rowdy and terribly competitive, some just enjoying each others’ company. I saw someone join me out of the corner of my eye, but didn’t turn. I smiled when I heard Caleb’s deep voice comment, “It’s a little bittersweet to watch isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “A little.”

We stood in companionable silence, each of us leaning against the railing, looking out over the mini-golf play and not looking at each other. It was a hot day, but even still I enjoyed the extra warmth of Caleb’s presence next to me; just knowing that his bulk was that very close. That might have been the end of that particular encounter, but Caleb’s stomach had something to say.

Apparently, Caleb was very hungry.

I turned to him and asked, “Haven’t you eaten?”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “I tend to enjoy big buffets like these a little too much, so I’ll have something later.”


I soaked up my first full-on look at him. He looked good. Much better than last summer. He'd lost that sad, deflated look. He was back up to 360 or 370 and wearing a seersucker shirt and olive shorts that fit perfectly. His belt did a beautiful job of flattering every inch and every angle around his circumference. He had a light tan and looked like maybe he had been doing a lot of walking. I noticed his calves were just as muscular as as his forearms always had been.


I wanted to be polite, of course, but an FA has her curiosity. Smiling so he’d know I wasn’t judging, I fished, “Did that just make sense? Did you say you are skipping lunch because you’d like it very much?”

Out came the crooked grin, but he remained firmly facing mini-golf territory. “No. I suppose that didn’t make much sense.”

“Hmph.” I was not satisfied with that answer, but he didn’t offer more. Curiosity might end up killing the cat, but I foraged on. “Well, I was over there earlier and the spread was even nicer than last year. We’ve moved well past the hotdogs and hamburgers from the old days.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked pleasantly.

“Mm-hm. But Mr. G. came over and pulled me away for a group photo before I really ate much. I was thinking about trying again. Would you like to join me?”

Caleb turned to look at me then with a sort of calculating expression. “Don’t feel like you need to make up an excuse for me,” he said gently.

Caught with my jaw dropped, I asked, “What?”

“Sam and the IT crew already found me and invited me to eat with them. ‘In case I didn’t want to be the big fat guy alone at a picnic table,’ they said. Not that I care, but... well. Thanks anyway,” he said as he started to turn away.

Completely apart from my lecherous FA thing, my heart broke for the guy. “Hey,” I said, reaching out for his arm. “Don’t go.”

He turned back around and I gave him a look. “Seriously,” I said. “I don’t know what offensive gesture your IT geeks fumbled, but I was being completely straight with you. I was eating with Cherelle and Eileen, Mr. G grabbed me for ‘just a minute for a group shot’ that turned into an hour of p.r. shots. When I got back Cherelle and Eileen were gone and the line was a mile long.” I shrugged and finished, “I figured I’d go back later.”

“Oh,” he said, crooked grin looking just a little sheepish.

“So?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Good.”

⇐⇒

He didn’t have much to say as we walked around the lake to the bandstand and picnic grove. That was ok. My compassionate brain figured he might need a little recovery time after that embarrassing admission. My inner letcher was happy for the time to watch him.

I was discreet, I promise.

By staying a half-step behind him, I got to see the action. I saw his big muscular calves powering every step. I saw his thick thighs pushing his belly up and letting it wobble down with every step. I could hear the little huff of his exhale, the swish of his shorts and the jingle of change with every step. When I looked around and commented on the updates to the picnic grounds, I saw his great round butt rise to one side or the other with every step.

Good lord, I really do love walking.

⇐⇒

I wasn’t kidding about the loaded buffet or about being hungry. I started with a piece of herb grilled chicken and added little bits of so many sides and salads that I could barely see the chicken when I was done. Caleb started with the chicken and looked like he might be going light at first. By the time he was done, however, his first plate looked alot like mine plus a pulled pork sandwich and he had a second plate for extra sides. Excellent.

I left the pavilion and took a round table with an umbrella just past the bandstand, thinking an adjustable chair would be more comfortable than a bench that was stuck to its table. I just hoped Caleb wouldn’t mind the accommodation.

“I hope you don’t mind the distance,” I told Caleb as we made ourselves comfortable. “There’s just the keg over at the pavillion, but there is cocktail service out here away from the kids.”

“How civilized,” he joked. Seeing the waiter approach, he asked, “Do you want another G & T?” And proceeded to order my drink and a craft beer for himself.

I relaxed and simply enjoyed the good food and good company. I had no idea where this might go, but it didn’t matter in the slightest.

The End

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