BHM Cravats and Coat Tails - by Xyantha (~BHM, ~~WG, Romance)
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Raoul’s eyes flew open in surprise, nearly falling off the chair as his tight pants were stripped from him. The strength to nearly pull him off the chair coupled with the look of silent intensity on her face subdued his immediate reaction. When she nearly dove onto his throbbing member he gasped in surprise, hands going to her soft hips.
He never knew why he felt so wonderful, disgusting, and aroused when full. He could remember the first time he gorged himself silly. He had been sneaking around, playing hide and seek with Harry. The cook had left an entire huge cake on the counter for the evening. The normally bustling kitchen was empty, and he could still remember the soft flesh of the cake dissolving on his tongue, the frosting clinging to his taste buds.
His father never let them have more than a token slice after their austere dinner - just enough to want more. He had sat down at the counter and ate nearly half the cake until his little waistcoat was ready to pop off. He had had so much difficulty breathing and moving that he had accidentally tipped the cake onto himself as he tried to get away.
Luckily, he had only been disciplined for trying to touch the cake – it had been such a mess no one could tell that half of it was sitting in his stomach. The feeling of his belly, tight and full, had him woozy with delight. He had ended up so aroused he claimed he had bumped his head when he fell, and had spent the day in bed touching himself.
He felt that way right now. He stomach, empty from breakfast, was now achingly full and painful from eating so quickly. He ache was also a burning delight, and the pressure from his full gut was actually causing his stomach to fold over itself, gravity pulling at it.
A few days after eating the cake, he tried overeating again at dinner, but the stern looks from his father stopped him. He desperately wanted to feel that way again, and so eventually found his way back down to the kitchen. The kitchen staff were more than happy for their little master to mock direct them, to sit and sample their cooking.
His father had left for London at the time, or else he would have noticed the dramatic changes in his son and put a stop to it immediately. He woke up every morning hungry, and found his way to the kitchen bleary eyed. Every night he stumbled to bed, waistcoat undone and pants rolled under his belly. It took only a fortnight of nearly constant grazing for a little belly to appear.
After another fortnight the servants started scolding him gently, because he couldn’t get his clothing to fasten properly. Martha had finally pulled him aside and reminded him his father was coming home in a week. He had starved himself for that week, terrified of being disciplined, but his father could still tell. He had looked at his plump son and told the servants to limit his food intake, and had started an outdoor exercise regimen. That harsh lifestyle, first imposed by his father, then self imposed, had lasted until he met Edith.
The feeling of being intensely full, coupled with being inside her almost made him loose control right then and there. A smarting smack into the full side of his gut made him hiss, writhing inside her. He tried to protest, feeling her hands grope the gorged mass in front of him. She smacked him again on the other side, those long fingered hands glorying in his body.
“Stop moving,” she nearly barked at him when he tried to shift his hips. She was slick and so hot it burned pleasurably. Her velvet thighs straddled his own at an angle he would have thought impossible or at the least painful, but her face was locked in an expression of intense concentration and pleasure.
Raoul was still struggling to understand what was going on when she started gyrating on top of him, one hand grasping the back of the chair for support, the other rolling the stuffed fat of his sides between her fingers. Every once in a while when he was close to losing control she would pinch or smack him enough to distract him. If he tried to do so much as move his hips or touch her, she growled at him.
It was impossible to be still with her hands and tongue were everywhere! She was grinding on top of him rhythmically, plunging down hard enough that the front of her pelvis jostled his engorged belly. It was making him frenzied enough that he was almost feeling panicked at the lack of control. Every time that they made love she had always participated, but had never dominated him like this. No one had ever dominated him like she was. He felt utterly humiliated and yet elated at the same time.
She had always touched his stomach, and he assumed that she appreciated that it was no longer hard and bruising, as she had said as much. He had doubted that she truly loved – no - delighted in his body. That she so obviously found his appetite and fat a source of pleasure and arousal was blowing the small portion of his mind that was still aware and thinking.
Right now the way she was treating his body was not with tolerance, or even appreciation, or approval. It was rough, demanding, and aggressive. It was like she was fighting with him as surely as he had with Harry earlier. No, he didn’t want to think about Harry right now.
She kept sticking her hands under his belly, jostling it and shaking it. She would stroke it lovingly, then smack it with a groan, back arching. She would grab it with both hands, shaking it against her inner thighs and nether region. She was cooing in his ear nonsensically, her breath hot against his ear and neck. He could only catch words like “Gorgeous, beautiful, oh, yes, yes, yes” intermixed with eager curses. It felt like it was hours before she let him come inside her, and despite her doing all the work, he felt totally drained.
His gorgeous kitten - no, tigress - slowly disentangled herself breathing heavily, eyes languid as she took into his body. “How are you feeling, love?”
He felt like an engorged tick. He was half laying, half sitting on the cushioned chair, belly towering upwards under the internal force of his stuffed stomach. He tried to sit up twice, but actually had to brace himself on the arms of the chair to lever himself into a sitting position. His gut sloshed forward stolidly, fat quivering even though it was tight. He cringed internally as it actually settled onto his thighs. He squirmed under her gaze, but he couldn’t even find the strength to cover himself with his own arms or a pillow. He sat there limply, bruised and battered both physically and emotionally. “What the hell,” he croaked, “Was that?”
“Mmm.” She looked drugged from her release, sipping from a cup of cold tea. “Punishment for you being silly.” She giggled and handed the cup to him, which he took shakily, straightening slowly because of his stiff muscles and full belly.
“Punishment? Silly? Silly? I was silly?” He moderated his voice, which was rising shrilly. His belly was red from her rough ministrations.
“Hmm. Maybe not a punishment, then. Maybe a reward?” She looked impish, throwing out her hair languidly, groaning happily.
“Reward!?” Raoul struggled to stand, eventually doing so in a way that didn’t compress his middle too much in the process. “I tell you, and I show you what I am, and you…reward me for it?”
Kitty only gave him an exasperated look over her shoulder as she picked up the ruined remains of her dress. “And this was one of my favourites,” she sighed. At some point her hair had come free of its bun. Raoul realized that he had never really seen her with her hair down. It had come loose before, but somehow her kneeling in the middle of their brightly lit parlour, with her dark hair trailing in loose curls down her back was incredible erotic.
That was it? That was all she could say after…whatever the hell that was? Raoul stalked forward, grabbing her hips. She looked over her shoulder into his eyes, pupils massive, lips parted. He was surprised to feel himself stirring again so soon. He felt her hands slip behind her, caressing his belly gently, and he nestled his nose into her hair. What did he say? Should he say anything? The silence stretched until she turned in his arms.
“I suppose…I have to actually say it out loud. I’ve watched you over the last months eating...and I have thought of telling you a thousand times before…”
Oh lord no, no, no. Cold panic set in, and he would have jerked back except her arms were tight around him, face buried in his chest, muffling her words. His thoughts spun crazily. She was going to leave him. No, she couldn’t, they were married. She wouldn’t! Why the hell had she done that just to tell him he disgusted her?
“I love you….” Kitty raised her face to his, smiling shyly.
…but.
“…and I love your body….” She raised her hands to his still muscular chest.
…but?
“…and I love that you love food….” Her hands slowly slid downwards.
…but???
“…and I love that you are…that you have….” Her hands slid down the bulging expanse of his upper stomach, then dropped to the jiggly bit below his belly button. She inhaled, a quick, shuddering breath. “I love that you have gotten fatter. I think your belly getting bigger is the most handsome thing in the entire world.”
Raoul stared down at her, brain a complete blank.
She looked into his eyes. “I think that if you….ate like you…like you want, that I….” Her face was red from mortification. “I think that if you ate and ended up getting fatter that I wouldn’t mind that at all. That I would love it.”
Raoul waited for the punch line to this farce, staring down into her eyes. When none came he hugged her tightly, resting his chin on her head. Thoughts swirled vaguely, each one jumbling into the next. It felt like he was in some sort of world where everything he had ever thought or believed about his body was set on its head.
“So….what do you think?” Kitty asked him fretfully, voice hushed.
The wood paneled wall stared back at him, his chin still resting on her head.
“I…don’t know.”
(Contionued in post 73 of this thread)
He never knew why he felt so wonderful, disgusting, and aroused when full. He could remember the first time he gorged himself silly. He had been sneaking around, playing hide and seek with Harry. The cook had left an entire huge cake on the counter for the evening. The normally bustling kitchen was empty, and he could still remember the soft flesh of the cake dissolving on his tongue, the frosting clinging to his taste buds.
His father never let them have more than a token slice after their austere dinner - just enough to want more. He had sat down at the counter and ate nearly half the cake until his little waistcoat was ready to pop off. He had had so much difficulty breathing and moving that he had accidentally tipped the cake onto himself as he tried to get away.
Luckily, he had only been disciplined for trying to touch the cake – it had been such a mess no one could tell that half of it was sitting in his stomach. The feeling of his belly, tight and full, had him woozy with delight. He had ended up so aroused he claimed he had bumped his head when he fell, and had spent the day in bed touching himself.
He felt that way right now. He stomach, empty from breakfast, was now achingly full and painful from eating so quickly. He ache was also a burning delight, and the pressure from his full gut was actually causing his stomach to fold over itself, gravity pulling at it.
A few days after eating the cake, he tried overeating again at dinner, but the stern looks from his father stopped him. He desperately wanted to feel that way again, and so eventually found his way back down to the kitchen. The kitchen staff were more than happy for their little master to mock direct them, to sit and sample their cooking.
His father had left for London at the time, or else he would have noticed the dramatic changes in his son and put a stop to it immediately. He woke up every morning hungry, and found his way to the kitchen bleary eyed. Every night he stumbled to bed, waistcoat undone and pants rolled under his belly. It took only a fortnight of nearly constant grazing for a little belly to appear.
After another fortnight the servants started scolding him gently, because he couldn’t get his clothing to fasten properly. Martha had finally pulled him aside and reminded him his father was coming home in a week. He had starved himself for that week, terrified of being disciplined, but his father could still tell. He had looked at his plump son and told the servants to limit his food intake, and had started an outdoor exercise regimen. That harsh lifestyle, first imposed by his father, then self imposed, had lasted until he met Edith.
The feeling of being intensely full, coupled with being inside her almost made him loose control right then and there. A smarting smack into the full side of his gut made him hiss, writhing inside her. He tried to protest, feeling her hands grope the gorged mass in front of him. She smacked him again on the other side, those long fingered hands glorying in his body.
“Stop moving,” she nearly barked at him when he tried to shift his hips. She was slick and so hot it burned pleasurably. Her velvet thighs straddled his own at an angle he would have thought impossible or at the least painful, but her face was locked in an expression of intense concentration and pleasure.
Raoul was still struggling to understand what was going on when she started gyrating on top of him, one hand grasping the back of the chair for support, the other rolling the stuffed fat of his sides between her fingers. Every once in a while when he was close to losing control she would pinch or smack him enough to distract him. If he tried to do so much as move his hips or touch her, she growled at him.
It was impossible to be still with her hands and tongue were everywhere! She was grinding on top of him rhythmically, plunging down hard enough that the front of her pelvis jostled his engorged belly. It was making him frenzied enough that he was almost feeling panicked at the lack of control. Every time that they made love she had always participated, but had never dominated him like this. No one had ever dominated him like she was. He felt utterly humiliated and yet elated at the same time.
She had always touched his stomach, and he assumed that she appreciated that it was no longer hard and bruising, as she had said as much. He had doubted that she truly loved – no - delighted in his body. That she so obviously found his appetite and fat a source of pleasure and arousal was blowing the small portion of his mind that was still aware and thinking.
Right now the way she was treating his body was not with tolerance, or even appreciation, or approval. It was rough, demanding, and aggressive. It was like she was fighting with him as surely as he had with Harry earlier. No, he didn’t want to think about Harry right now.
She kept sticking her hands under his belly, jostling it and shaking it. She would stroke it lovingly, then smack it with a groan, back arching. She would grab it with both hands, shaking it against her inner thighs and nether region. She was cooing in his ear nonsensically, her breath hot against his ear and neck. He could only catch words like “Gorgeous, beautiful, oh, yes, yes, yes” intermixed with eager curses. It felt like it was hours before she let him come inside her, and despite her doing all the work, he felt totally drained.
His gorgeous kitten - no, tigress - slowly disentangled herself breathing heavily, eyes languid as she took into his body. “How are you feeling, love?”
He felt like an engorged tick. He was half laying, half sitting on the cushioned chair, belly towering upwards under the internal force of his stuffed stomach. He tried to sit up twice, but actually had to brace himself on the arms of the chair to lever himself into a sitting position. His gut sloshed forward stolidly, fat quivering even though it was tight. He cringed internally as it actually settled onto his thighs. He squirmed under her gaze, but he couldn’t even find the strength to cover himself with his own arms or a pillow. He sat there limply, bruised and battered both physically and emotionally. “What the hell,” he croaked, “Was that?”
“Mmm.” She looked drugged from her release, sipping from a cup of cold tea. “Punishment for you being silly.” She giggled and handed the cup to him, which he took shakily, straightening slowly because of his stiff muscles and full belly.
“Punishment? Silly? Silly? I was silly?” He moderated his voice, which was rising shrilly. His belly was red from her rough ministrations.
“Hmm. Maybe not a punishment, then. Maybe a reward?” She looked impish, throwing out her hair languidly, groaning happily.
“Reward!?” Raoul struggled to stand, eventually doing so in a way that didn’t compress his middle too much in the process. “I tell you, and I show you what I am, and you…reward me for it?”
Kitty only gave him an exasperated look over her shoulder as she picked up the ruined remains of her dress. “And this was one of my favourites,” she sighed. At some point her hair had come free of its bun. Raoul realized that he had never really seen her with her hair down. It had come loose before, but somehow her kneeling in the middle of their brightly lit parlour, with her dark hair trailing in loose curls down her back was incredible erotic.
That was it? That was all she could say after…whatever the hell that was? Raoul stalked forward, grabbing her hips. She looked over her shoulder into his eyes, pupils massive, lips parted. He was surprised to feel himself stirring again so soon. He felt her hands slip behind her, caressing his belly gently, and he nestled his nose into her hair. What did he say? Should he say anything? The silence stretched until she turned in his arms.
“I suppose…I have to actually say it out loud. I’ve watched you over the last months eating...and I have thought of telling you a thousand times before…”
Oh lord no, no, no. Cold panic set in, and he would have jerked back except her arms were tight around him, face buried in his chest, muffling her words. His thoughts spun crazily. She was going to leave him. No, she couldn’t, they were married. She wouldn’t! Why the hell had she done that just to tell him he disgusted her?
“I love you….” Kitty raised her face to his, smiling shyly.
…but.
“…and I love your body….” She raised her hands to his still muscular chest.
…but?
“…and I love that you love food….” Her hands slowly slid downwards.
…but???
“…and I love that you are…that you have….” Her hands slid down the bulging expanse of his upper stomach, then dropped to the jiggly bit below his belly button. She inhaled, a quick, shuddering breath. “I love that you have gotten fatter. I think your belly getting bigger is the most handsome thing in the entire world.”
Raoul stared down at her, brain a complete blank.
She looked into his eyes. “I think that if you….ate like you…like you want, that I….” Her face was red from mortification. “I think that if you ate and ended up getting fatter that I wouldn’t mind that at all. That I would love it.”
Raoul waited for the punch line to this farce, staring down into her eyes. When none came he hugged her tightly, resting his chin on her head. Thoughts swirled vaguely, each one jumbling into the next. It felt like he was in some sort of world where everything he had ever thought or believed about his body was set on its head.
“So….what do you think?” Kitty asked him fretfully, voice hushed.
The wood paneled wall stared back at him, his chin still resting on her head.
“I…don’t know.”
(Contionued in post 73 of this thread)
I wanted to get this section out because over the next week or so I might not be able to flesh out the next sections as quickly as I would want....I'm going on vacation soon, so I need to get stuff done at work. Don't worry, I'm still working on this and won't keep it hanging too long, I promise!!
What delightful tension you left us with!
BriarChubNJ
Well-Known Member
SO very wonderful! Brava!
Lardibutts
Aged Member
Its all getting a bit too much like Jane Austen for my taste - at the rate we are going, Kitty will be installing a feeding machine in the Banquetting Hall next. :eat2:
LinathSuru
Dreamer
I wish I'd been able to read this in one sitting rather than over the course of several. There are just so many small delights to be found in it that I wish I could quote to properly express my enjoyment of them. Ah, well, suppose it will have to suffice to say I love the tale. I love the writing, the feelings, the description. Thanks so much for sharing it, Xyantha. I can't wait to see the next installment. 
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I mean that I don’t know.” He looked somber and thoughtful, staring at the wall with unfocused eyes.
He didn’t seem angry – that was good. She waited for as long as she could before she pushed against his chest lightly. “Love? What are you thinking?”
He blinked, and his grey eyes slid down to her face. He kissed her forehead, and hugged her tighter. “Sorry sweetling. I am exhausted.”
He leaned on her heavily, breathing in deeply and sighing. It caused his belly to push against her. “I suppose I am rethinking my entire life.”
He paused for a long moment before continuing slowly. His deep voice rumbled through his chest into her own, he held her so tightly. “Harry said something this morning….he said I always had everything. I always felt like my appetite and weight limited me. I believed it in my bones. And yet, now I am married to a beautiful woman who not only tolerates my greatest weakness, but finds it sexually appealing, while my brother, who I always thought more handsome and talented, is alone.”
“Not true - your greatest weakness is your temper,” Kitty informed him helpfully, then grinned as he wrinkled his nose at her. “But seriously, how do you feel about it?”
“Well, I am not sure how I feel about it. Curious, worried, disbelieving. "
“So…you don’t mind me liking your body?”
Raoul snorted so her she was jostled. “Mind it? I showed my little kitten of a wife that I was a disgusting pig, so she jumped my bones like a tigress and rode me –“
“Like the stud you are,” Kitty interjected again, sexually sated but still more than willing to have another go with him.
He rolled his eyes “- and told me she would not only tolerate my appetite, but wouldn’t mind if I grew even fatter.”
His eyes grew doubtful. “I suppose I am wondering at what point you wouldn’t find me attractive anymore. I mean, what if I grew as fat as….as your friend Telford? Would you still find me attractive?”
“Geoffrey?” The thought of her once muscular husband slowly softening and expanding to Geoffrey’s size was thrilling and terrifying. That would take a lot of eating….Would he let her feed him like before? Laying back in their bed, slipping morsels between his lips….
“Yes. What if I got even fatter than Geoffrey?”
The thought of that dried her mouth and made other areas moisten.
“I told you that I used to be fatter. Years ago, a woman I thought I loved turned against me because of it. I think if I heard those words from you it would break me.”
He caught her chin, staring into her eyes.
“I don’t think I will have the strength to lose the weight again, once I go down this path. You have just told the alcoholic that you enjoy not only watching him drink, but enjoy the scent of alcohol on his breath and the way he staggers about. I don’t have the strength to resist this!” He looked truly wretched, wanting so desperately to believe her while his willpower slowly eroded.
Kitty stilled her tongue from giving him immediate reassurance. She thought she knew the answer at once, but she realized instinctually that unless she truly gave his words serious consideration he would continue to fret perpetually. “Can I think on it?”
“Of course…” He gave a grimace he obviously intended to be a smile. He kissed her forehead, then wandered away to the bell pull.
What would he look like at Geoffrey’s size? Right now his stomach surged outwards, looking odd, stuck as it was between his still muscular chest and legs. If he grew even fatter, would his legs plumpen and rub together? Would those muscles she adored in his chest and arms disappear? She hoped not. She loved being picked up and twirled.
After a few long moments he tugged on the bell pull, belly bouncing lightly as he walked to the door. Would that taut belly widen, soften, and sag even more? She had never seen Geoffrey with his clothes off, but his belly was big enough that it obviously rested on his crotch.
Would she still find Raoul sexy when he waddled instead of striding? When he got fat enough that if she tried to ride him like she did today, that she would have to lift his belly up and rest it on her thighs because it would completely cover his manhood? What if his belly took up so much of his thighs she couldn’t even sit on his lap, surging towards his knees? If he would be forced to lay down on his back? That if he was on top he would have to lift his stomach out of the way so he could enter her?
She nearly swooned at the thought, licking her dry lips. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh yesssssss. Oh yes, she would. Her knees felt weak, and she sat down quickly to avoid falling.
When the door opened, he intercepted its progress with his hand, speaking softly to the servant through the door. He faced away from her until clothes were discreetly passed through. The latch clicked, and he turned towards her, expression neutral. He placed her dress on the piano forte before he put his own clothing on deliberately, facing away from her. He shrugged into his waistcoat. She couldn’t see his face, but she could see the fabric strain across this back before his shoulders slumped and he took the garment off.
Stepping into her own dress gave her a few additional moments to collect herself. When she was done, she found him looking at her, expression apprehensive despite the outward appearance of calm. She slipped into his arms. Normally hot to the touch, he was cold, especially his hands. She tried to wrap them in her own smaller hands. “Yes.”
“Yes what?” Even his shirts, designed to be loose, clung to his round belly.
She smoothed the fabric down the slope of his sides. “Yes, I would still find you handsome. Very handsome. Handsomer, in fact.”
The doubt on his face was obvious, but he didn’t voice any of them out loud. Instead, he allowed her to cuddle into him on the couch quietly as the shadows lengthened across the floor. Her right arm was behind him, cheek on his chest. Her left hand idly skated across the softness of his shirt on his middle.
The only sound in the room was their breathing and the loud gurgles as his stomach digested the food. Eventually even that quieted. They stayed that way for what Kitty assumed was several hours, until a loud squeal from his stomach startled them both.
Expressions flew across his face. Irritation, defensiveness, fear, shame. Kitty couldn’t help but wonder at the emotions, after her confession, but it dawned on her that he had always been that way around food and eating, even on their first trip to the part together. Or, more specifically, his expressions after eating. Finally, his face settled into sheepishness.
“I….” His throat and mouth moved. He swallowed hard, licking his lips. “I’m hungry...again.”
She suppressed a grin, instead responding as neutrally as possible. “I’m not surprised, you skipped breakfast, and it is nearly dinner.”
Dark brows raised. “But I ate a huge lunch.”
Poor man, he played devil’s advocate with himself. She resisted the urge to have him overeat again. This wasn’t the time or place, and seeing him simply enjoying food was more important than him stuffing himself for her pleasure.
“And what of it? Just eat until you are full at dinner. When you are full, stop eating. If you are hungry later, you can simply eat again.” Raoul seemed to struggle with the concept. She looked at him, brows raised, until he threw his hands up in defeat. He might feel hungry, but that belly of his was still stuffed from the distended shape. It impeded his attempts to rise, forcing him to jut his hips forward and push himself up to stand.
Dinner was a quiet, intimate affair in their home. Even the addition of Harry did not put a damper on the small, social feeling of the evening. Unlike some families who sat at opposite ends of the table, they tended to cluster at one end, laughing and talking. Tonight was no different in that regard. What was different was Raoul – he was looking at the food like he expected it to bite. They had just settled down when they heard booted steps approaching down the hall. Raoul, nervous, dropped his spoon and cursed.
Harry grinned at them both from the door.
“The servants are all atwitter – the master and mistress apparently cut their clothes off and made love in the parlor. And - they did it in the middle of the day,” He said the last with a mocking, shushed voice. “The middle of the day! Can you imagine?”
Kitty felt her neck and cheeks warm. She tried to turn away, but the warm and gentle pressure from Raoul’s hand held her there gently. Her brother in law was just teasing, she realized. It was difficult to meet his eyes.
Harry sprawled carelessly on the chair opposite her, beside Raoul. He was eyeing them both with a sort of bitter admiration and jealousy. His gaze touched on Raoul’s distended stomach, but all he said was “Martha is still the same woman. I came down to see her and she beat me with that bloody spoon.”
Raoul laughed aloud. “I don’t know why we put up with her.”
“You put up with me because I am the only one who put up with you since you were babes.” Martha called out from the hall. Both men laughed, and the matronly woman smiled broadly as she past the door.
Kitty had come to like the outspoken, friendly woman. She ran a tight ship, allowing her more free time to enjoy her husband.
Harry was shifting restlessly in his seat, only quieting when Raoul’s eyes locked on his own under lowered brows.
“You look just like father when you do that,” he complained.
Raoul ignored him. He speared a potato and put it on his plate. The golden surface of the potato broke, revealing white flesh. Silver caught the candlelight as the knife slid downwards, meeting with the plate with a small tinking noise. Slowly, he slathered a generous portion of butter on it. The piece balanced on the edge of the fork that was slowly brought to mobile lips. The room was so quiet that Harry and Kitty both heard the noise of pleasure he made.
For Kitty, it echoed like a gunshot. The entire process of watching him slowly and methodically cleaning his plate was captivating. It was so intimate, she looked at Harry involuntarily. Did he know?
The young man’s face was perfectly still, grey eyes following the fork travelling from plate to his brother’s mouth. His chin was propped on his hand, elbow resting casually on the table. His own plate was nearly empty. She had actually never really seen him eat. He seemed utterly riveted by the spectacle.
Raoul didn’t seem to notice, wholly focused on the slow dance of food across tongue. It was only when his plate was cleaned that he looked up. Realizing him eating had been the centre of attention, he flushed angrily. “Why aren’t you two eating?”
Harry pushed the potatoes closer to him with a finger. “I’m a little man, it doesn’t take much to fill me up.”
Raoul looked at the potatoes with a hungry expression on his face. Slowly, regretfully, he pushed it away. “No. Perhaps later.”
“Later?” Harry raised dark brows. “You were never one to turn down food. And later would be in the middle of the night. ”
He seemed to gather strength from the glance he stole towards his wife.
“And why not?” Raoul leaned back in his chair, hands clasped over his bulging belly, eyeing his little brother. “My wife has informed me I should eat what I want, when I want. If anything, I was thinking I would enjoy eating more – maybe have a second dinner, later tonight.”
Kitty watched this byplay, proud of her husband. She fully expected Harry to tease him, and was ready to do – something. What that would be was unclear to her. Nothing of the sort past his lips, however. The younger man only looked at her with an expression of jealousy, shoving a potato into his mouth to avoid answering. Why was he jealous of her?
Eventually, Harry spoke, pushing a carrot around his plate with his fork absently. “I was thinking that after Aunt visits that I might head back to London.”
“Already? But you have barely been here!” Kitty protested.
“I have to admit I am not the country type. I get bored easily. I miss the bustle of London. Besides, as usual, Raoul is subtly reminding me of my responsibilities. I really should stop playing and try to find a wife.”
“You make it sound so cold!” Kitty laughed.
Her brother in law shrugged and grinned back easily. “Both sexes do it, for different and similar reasons. My big brother is married, I have a sister, and soon, I may even be an Uncle!”
He patted her hand at her blush. “Its time for me to grow up, too.”
Raoul was rubbing his chin with a huge hand. It was a habitual thinking gesture she found charming. He looked at his brother seriously. “Will you take care of some items of business I have unfinished for me?”
“Of course,” Harry said, looking surprised and flattered at the trust. Whatever compromise they had come to was still new and tender. “But let us not talk about leaving, I don’t plan to do anything until after Auntie comes to visit.”
(Continued in post 83 on page four of this thread)
“I mean that I don’t know.” He looked somber and thoughtful, staring at the wall with unfocused eyes.
He didn’t seem angry – that was good. She waited for as long as she could before she pushed against his chest lightly. “Love? What are you thinking?”
He blinked, and his grey eyes slid down to her face. He kissed her forehead, and hugged her tighter. “Sorry sweetling. I am exhausted.”
He leaned on her heavily, breathing in deeply and sighing. It caused his belly to push against her. “I suppose I am rethinking my entire life.”
He paused for a long moment before continuing slowly. His deep voice rumbled through his chest into her own, he held her so tightly. “Harry said something this morning….he said I always had everything. I always felt like my appetite and weight limited me. I believed it in my bones. And yet, now I am married to a beautiful woman who not only tolerates my greatest weakness, but finds it sexually appealing, while my brother, who I always thought more handsome and talented, is alone.”
“Not true - your greatest weakness is your temper,” Kitty informed him helpfully, then grinned as he wrinkled his nose at her. “But seriously, how do you feel about it?”
“Well, I am not sure how I feel about it. Curious, worried, disbelieving. "
“So…you don’t mind me liking your body?”
Raoul snorted so her she was jostled. “Mind it? I showed my little kitten of a wife that I was a disgusting pig, so she jumped my bones like a tigress and rode me –“
“Like the stud you are,” Kitty interjected again, sexually sated but still more than willing to have another go with him.
He rolled his eyes “- and told me she would not only tolerate my appetite, but wouldn’t mind if I grew even fatter.”
His eyes grew doubtful. “I suppose I am wondering at what point you wouldn’t find me attractive anymore. I mean, what if I grew as fat as….as your friend Telford? Would you still find me attractive?”
“Geoffrey?” The thought of her once muscular husband slowly softening and expanding to Geoffrey’s size was thrilling and terrifying. That would take a lot of eating….Would he let her feed him like before? Laying back in their bed, slipping morsels between his lips….
“Yes. What if I got even fatter than Geoffrey?”
The thought of that dried her mouth and made other areas moisten.
“I told you that I used to be fatter. Years ago, a woman I thought I loved turned against me because of it. I think if I heard those words from you it would break me.”
He caught her chin, staring into her eyes.
“I don’t think I will have the strength to lose the weight again, once I go down this path. You have just told the alcoholic that you enjoy not only watching him drink, but enjoy the scent of alcohol on his breath and the way he staggers about. I don’t have the strength to resist this!” He looked truly wretched, wanting so desperately to believe her while his willpower slowly eroded.
Kitty stilled her tongue from giving him immediate reassurance. She thought she knew the answer at once, but she realized instinctually that unless she truly gave his words serious consideration he would continue to fret perpetually. “Can I think on it?”
“Of course…” He gave a grimace he obviously intended to be a smile. He kissed her forehead, then wandered away to the bell pull.
What would he look like at Geoffrey’s size? Right now his stomach surged outwards, looking odd, stuck as it was between his still muscular chest and legs. If he grew even fatter, would his legs plumpen and rub together? Would those muscles she adored in his chest and arms disappear? She hoped not. She loved being picked up and twirled.
After a few long moments he tugged on the bell pull, belly bouncing lightly as he walked to the door. Would that taut belly widen, soften, and sag even more? She had never seen Geoffrey with his clothes off, but his belly was big enough that it obviously rested on his crotch.
Would she still find Raoul sexy when he waddled instead of striding? When he got fat enough that if she tried to ride him like she did today, that she would have to lift his belly up and rest it on her thighs because it would completely cover his manhood? What if his belly took up so much of his thighs she couldn’t even sit on his lap, surging towards his knees? If he would be forced to lay down on his back? That if he was on top he would have to lift his stomach out of the way so he could enter her?
She nearly swooned at the thought, licking her dry lips. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh yesssssss. Oh yes, she would. Her knees felt weak, and she sat down quickly to avoid falling.
When the door opened, he intercepted its progress with his hand, speaking softly to the servant through the door. He faced away from her until clothes were discreetly passed through. The latch clicked, and he turned towards her, expression neutral. He placed her dress on the piano forte before he put his own clothing on deliberately, facing away from her. He shrugged into his waistcoat. She couldn’t see his face, but she could see the fabric strain across this back before his shoulders slumped and he took the garment off.
Stepping into her own dress gave her a few additional moments to collect herself. When she was done, she found him looking at her, expression apprehensive despite the outward appearance of calm. She slipped into his arms. Normally hot to the touch, he was cold, especially his hands. She tried to wrap them in her own smaller hands. “Yes.”
“Yes what?” Even his shirts, designed to be loose, clung to his round belly.
She smoothed the fabric down the slope of his sides. “Yes, I would still find you handsome. Very handsome. Handsomer, in fact.”
The doubt on his face was obvious, but he didn’t voice any of them out loud. Instead, he allowed her to cuddle into him on the couch quietly as the shadows lengthened across the floor. Her right arm was behind him, cheek on his chest. Her left hand idly skated across the softness of his shirt on his middle.
The only sound in the room was their breathing and the loud gurgles as his stomach digested the food. Eventually even that quieted. They stayed that way for what Kitty assumed was several hours, until a loud squeal from his stomach startled them both.
Expressions flew across his face. Irritation, defensiveness, fear, shame. Kitty couldn’t help but wonder at the emotions, after her confession, but it dawned on her that he had always been that way around food and eating, even on their first trip to the part together. Or, more specifically, his expressions after eating. Finally, his face settled into sheepishness.
“I….” His throat and mouth moved. He swallowed hard, licking his lips. “I’m hungry...again.”
She suppressed a grin, instead responding as neutrally as possible. “I’m not surprised, you skipped breakfast, and it is nearly dinner.”
Dark brows raised. “But I ate a huge lunch.”
Poor man, he played devil’s advocate with himself. She resisted the urge to have him overeat again. This wasn’t the time or place, and seeing him simply enjoying food was more important than him stuffing himself for her pleasure.
“And what of it? Just eat until you are full at dinner. When you are full, stop eating. If you are hungry later, you can simply eat again.” Raoul seemed to struggle with the concept. She looked at him, brows raised, until he threw his hands up in defeat. He might feel hungry, but that belly of his was still stuffed from the distended shape. It impeded his attempts to rise, forcing him to jut his hips forward and push himself up to stand.
Dinner was a quiet, intimate affair in their home. Even the addition of Harry did not put a damper on the small, social feeling of the evening. Unlike some families who sat at opposite ends of the table, they tended to cluster at one end, laughing and talking. Tonight was no different in that regard. What was different was Raoul – he was looking at the food like he expected it to bite. They had just settled down when they heard booted steps approaching down the hall. Raoul, nervous, dropped his spoon and cursed.
Harry grinned at them both from the door.
“The servants are all atwitter – the master and mistress apparently cut their clothes off and made love in the parlor. And - they did it in the middle of the day,” He said the last with a mocking, shushed voice. “The middle of the day! Can you imagine?”
Kitty felt her neck and cheeks warm. She tried to turn away, but the warm and gentle pressure from Raoul’s hand held her there gently. Her brother in law was just teasing, she realized. It was difficult to meet his eyes.
Harry sprawled carelessly on the chair opposite her, beside Raoul. He was eyeing them both with a sort of bitter admiration and jealousy. His gaze touched on Raoul’s distended stomach, but all he said was “Martha is still the same woman. I came down to see her and she beat me with that bloody spoon.”
Raoul laughed aloud. “I don’t know why we put up with her.”
“You put up with me because I am the only one who put up with you since you were babes.” Martha called out from the hall. Both men laughed, and the matronly woman smiled broadly as she past the door.
Kitty had come to like the outspoken, friendly woman. She ran a tight ship, allowing her more free time to enjoy her husband.
Harry was shifting restlessly in his seat, only quieting when Raoul’s eyes locked on his own under lowered brows.
“You look just like father when you do that,” he complained.
Raoul ignored him. He speared a potato and put it on his plate. The golden surface of the potato broke, revealing white flesh. Silver caught the candlelight as the knife slid downwards, meeting with the plate with a small tinking noise. Slowly, he slathered a generous portion of butter on it. The piece balanced on the edge of the fork that was slowly brought to mobile lips. The room was so quiet that Harry and Kitty both heard the noise of pleasure he made.
For Kitty, it echoed like a gunshot. The entire process of watching him slowly and methodically cleaning his plate was captivating. It was so intimate, she looked at Harry involuntarily. Did he know?
The young man’s face was perfectly still, grey eyes following the fork travelling from plate to his brother’s mouth. His chin was propped on his hand, elbow resting casually on the table. His own plate was nearly empty. She had actually never really seen him eat. He seemed utterly riveted by the spectacle.
Raoul didn’t seem to notice, wholly focused on the slow dance of food across tongue. It was only when his plate was cleaned that he looked up. Realizing him eating had been the centre of attention, he flushed angrily. “Why aren’t you two eating?”
Harry pushed the potatoes closer to him with a finger. “I’m a little man, it doesn’t take much to fill me up.”
Raoul looked at the potatoes with a hungry expression on his face. Slowly, regretfully, he pushed it away. “No. Perhaps later.”
“Later?” Harry raised dark brows. “You were never one to turn down food. And later would be in the middle of the night. ”
He seemed to gather strength from the glance he stole towards his wife.
“And why not?” Raoul leaned back in his chair, hands clasped over his bulging belly, eyeing his little brother. “My wife has informed me I should eat what I want, when I want. If anything, I was thinking I would enjoy eating more – maybe have a second dinner, later tonight.”
Kitty watched this byplay, proud of her husband. She fully expected Harry to tease him, and was ready to do – something. What that would be was unclear to her. Nothing of the sort past his lips, however. The younger man only looked at her with an expression of jealousy, shoving a potato into his mouth to avoid answering. Why was he jealous of her?
Eventually, Harry spoke, pushing a carrot around his plate with his fork absently. “I was thinking that after Aunt visits that I might head back to London.”
“Already? But you have barely been here!” Kitty protested.
“I have to admit I am not the country type. I get bored easily. I miss the bustle of London. Besides, as usual, Raoul is subtly reminding me of my responsibilities. I really should stop playing and try to find a wife.”
“You make it sound so cold!” Kitty laughed.
Her brother in law shrugged and grinned back easily. “Both sexes do it, for different and similar reasons. My big brother is married, I have a sister, and soon, I may even be an Uncle!”
He patted her hand at her blush. “Its time for me to grow up, too.”
Raoul was rubbing his chin with a huge hand. It was a habitual thinking gesture she found charming. He looked at his brother seriously. “Will you take care of some items of business I have unfinished for me?”
“Of course,” Harry said, looking surprised and flattered at the trust. Whatever compromise they had come to was still new and tender. “But let us not talk about leaving, I don’t plan to do anything until after Auntie comes to visit.”
(Continued in post 83 on page four of this thread)
I'm sorry for your loss, but I very anxiously await the next part!!!
That is terrible; so sorry for your loss and their family's....Please take the time you need. We will be here waiting when you are ready :really sad:
