Hope Comes Knocking - by Big Beautiful Dreamer (~BHM, Stuffing, Romance, ~~WG)

[Big Beautiful Dreamer]

~BHM, Stuffing, Romance, ~~WG - A cruise ship romance evolves into a real-life relationship.

Hope Comes Knocking

by Big Beautiful Dreamer
​

Brian Stoller was beginning to think he’d never go on a cruise again. He’d enjoyed it, and he’d actually met someone, which, cynically, he wasn’t expecting, but if he heard one more jab about his post-cruise waistline he was ready to punch the speaker. He’d been back a week and he was willing to bet he’d gotten at least a dozen comments.

It had started with his parents, whom he’d visited after returning to port, on his way home.

“Looks like you really enjoyed that cruise,” his dad had said as Brian helped him put up the storm windows. “Packed in on pretty good there.”

“Sweetie, you look so … healthy,” his mom had said uncertainly. “Didja put on some weight?”

At work, he’d heard every variation possible. “Must have been a delicious cruise.” “Brought home a little extra baggage, huh?” “Looks like you had to loosen that belt, buddy.” Brian had no idea that so many people in the world felt free to comment on weight gain. To be fair, he’d been more or less the same 6 feet, 200 pounds since college, so he’d had no reason to know. He didn’t own a scale and didn’t really know how much he’d gained, even though several co-workers had flat-out asked, but he was aware, thank-you-very-much, that his pants were rather snug and that he had, in fact, had to loosen that belt, buddy.

Eventually, the comments died down, but now he was curious, and stopped at a Target on his way home one evening and bought a scale. He set it up, then decided to wait until morning to weigh himself, when he was unfed and wearing less clothing. Anyway, he had more important stuff to do. He logged on and, to his delight, found a private message waiting for him in the chat room Karen had persuaded him to join. They chatted for several hours until Karen said reluctantly that she had to go to bed. Before logging off, though, she mentioned almost casually that she was looking for a job closer to where Brian lived. His heart leaped, and he had to sit on his hands to keep from e-drooling. As he stood and collected his dishes from an evening online, he couldn’t keep from grinning.

The next morning, he creaked out of bed grumpily – he was not a morning person – and stepped onto the scale. It read 220. Frowning, he stepped off. The scale read 0. Back on. 220. 0. 219. 0. 221. 0. 220. Cripes! He mulled it over as he shaved. Oh, wait. Not all of that twenty pounds – twenty pounds – had been packed on during the cruise. Duh. He must have let his weight creep up beforehand. Shrugging, he finished shaving and dressed, more acutely aware, if that was possible, of how his pants tugged and how he was running out of belt holes.

On the weekend, he drove the two hours west to visit Karen, arriving near sunset on Friday. Despite the cool weather, Karen was grilling steaks, and the scent was enticing. They embraced and kissed like long-parted lovers instead of a couple in the early stages of relationship. Somehow, Brian was more comfortable around Karen than he’d been around other women he’d known longer. Their relationship had dived almost at once past the initial awkward stages into ease and enjoyment. Brian helped around the edges, and soon they were sitting on a blanket in front of the outdoor fire pit enjoying steak, salad, potatoes, and a crisp white wine.

Their talk meandered back to the cruise and how good the food had been. “I really, um, packed it on,” Brian admitted. “Some of the guys at work have been ribbing me.”

Karen raised her eyebrows. “You look awfully fine to me.”

Brian felt his face warm. “Well, you know,” he said lamely, absently patting his belly. “Little pot.”

Karen scooched over and laid a hand on his sweater-clad midriff. “I like big guys,” she said softly.

What the heck. Brian felt himself responding instantly and unmistakably. Big guys? What does that mean? Flummoxed, he stayed quiet and stroked Karen’s chestnut hair instead. Gradually the conversation resumed, but Brian was still baffled by Karen’s statement. “I like big guys … I like big guys …” kept running through his mind.

The next morning, they took Karen’s chocolate Lab for a long run in a nearby park, then dropped Coco back home and drove to a pancake house for breakfast. Brian, starving, ordered a huge meal, which Karen cooed over admiringly when it arrived.

There was a lot of food involved, though, and by the time Brian felt himself slowing down, his plates were far from empty. Karen, who had made short work of her own decent-sized breakfast, pouted. “Gotta clean your plate,” she said teasingly, and picked up a sausage with her fork. “Come on.” She waggled it under his nose, making Brian smile, and obediently he opened up. Captive to her charms, he opened up for bite after bite despite his increasing fullness. His already snug jeans were painfully tight and his last-gasp belt was, well, gasping. He was pretty sure that when he stood up his shirt wouldn’t quite cover everything anymore, and his stretched belly seemed to balloon with each swallow. Tight as a drum, his abdomen felt sore and ready to burst. Resigned, he made himself take another couple of swallows of coffee, though he was so achingly full that he really didn’t want to swallow anything.

With an audible grunt, he heaved out of the booth, his swollen and engorged belly churning heavily. He blinked, feeling a little light-headed, and tried to draw a deep breath. Instead he hiccuped. Karen patted his arm. “Ready to go?” she asked. Too full to speak, he nodded.

Once they were stowed in Karen’s car, and out of the public eye, he let out a load groan and fumbled his pants unbuttoned. “Ahh,” he sighed, rubbing his bloated gut. “Whew. Stuffed to the brim.” He stifled a belch.

Karen winked and patted his rounded midsection. “It’s darling. I love to see a full tummy on a guy.”

There it was again. Last night, she’d said, “I like big guys.” Brian blinked. He already knew that Karen was different – special – unique – but this was really out there. He also had to admit, though, that the gentle rubbing she was giving his aching belly felt pretty good. And that, unexpectedly, the discomfort of his stuffed stomach felt kind of good as well. It hurt, sure, but there was also a pleasure in the stretch of his skin, the pull of his sides, the warmth and heaviness of an overloaded belly. Moreover, his privates were seriously aroused as well, surging with pleasure so urgent he wondered how long the drive home would be.

Oddly, Karen seemed to be in a hurry too. She pulled hastily into the apartment complex, slung the car into a space, and jumped out as though her jeans were on fire. As best he could, puffing a little, Brian followed her rapid pace into the apartment, where, by unspoken agreement, they made for the bedroom, Karen shedding clothing as she went. Brian kicked off his shoes and began to tug off his polo shirt, but she stopped him.

In the bedroom, now completely naked, she slowly – so slowly – undressed him, making a tease out of tugging off the snug shirt, pulling down those jeans and then the underwear, and it felt so good just to be out of the constricting clothes, but he was so full his stomach hurt and it hurt to move and she tugged him onto the bed and his overloaded gut sloshed and a voice whispered, “Just lay back” so he did and cool hands were spreading lotion on his aching belly and rhythmically massaging it and exciting the rest of him and then she rode him and he found a new kind of pleasure in intimacy on a full stomach with her weight on his full and tender tummy and the shifting of pressure and the rhythm of hips and the roaring in his ears and then it was over and they lay damply side by side and Brian became aware of a little fan that must have been running the whole time and he lay back dazed and let the cool air blow over him and felt her breathing together with his so entwined he wasn’t sure whose was whose. He was afraid to speak, afraid to break the mood, and finally, he said, “Wow.”

He felt Karen’s smile. “Yup. Wow.”

“I mean … wow,” Brian elaborated. Karen patted his stomach, which was still tautly distended. “Oh, this is just the cutest tummy I’ve ever seen,” she murmured, tripping her fingers over it and poking his belly button. “There’s just nothing like a big handsome guy with a nice round tummy.”

“You really like big guys?”

“Said so, didn’t I?”

“Yeah … but …”

“But what?”

Brian sighed. Oh, that felt good, a sigh out of a full stomach, producing an internal pull like a muscle stretch. “But … uhmm …” He sighed again. “Uh, fat is bad?” Whoa, that was lame.

Karen laughed, a healthy sustained laugh, shaking all over, her hair tickling his chest. “Whoa, partner. Says who?”

“Well, you know, everybody. Doctors.” Small save.

Karen made a face. “You know, there’s some truth to what doctors say about weight gain … but there’s a lot of error mixed in. I’ve read about several studies that show how you can be big and fit. Besides, everyone has different tastes, right? I find bigger guys very appealing for any number of reasons.” She sat up, then bent over his still-full stomach, pinching, cuddling, and massaging, occasionally leaning in for a kiss. “Big guys are handsome … sexy … strong … cuddly … and why do you think I fell for you so hard on that cruise?”

“You fell for me,” Brian echoed.

“Yeah, girl overboard.” She made a splooshing sound.

The remainder of the weekend was entertaining, and also foundational. Brian found himself already deeply emotionally entwined with Karen, a feeling that seemed to be mutual. Several times Karen mentioned her search for work near where Brian lived. Sunday, reluctantly getting ready to leave, Brian made explicit what he’d been assuming. “So if you do move, we’ll, um, live together?”

“Duh,” Karen said, but with a laugh that took away any sting. “Yeah, I’m counting on it.” They sealed the deal with a kiss. Brian sang along with the CD all the way home.

Somehow that weekend had been liberating. Brian no longer felt constrained to minimize his intake in front of others, as the earlier comments had prompted him to do, and he happily helped himself whenever the occasional box of doughnuts or leftover pizza appeared in the break room. He added a danish to his morning coffee break as a matter of routine and always ate well when out with buddies at lunch or a ball game.

By Thanksgiving, his 6 feet carried not 200 pounds but 235. Of course, it did not go unremarked upon at home.

“Hey, stockin’ up for the winter there, pal,” was his dad’s greeting, as he patted Brian’s visibly thickening waistline.

“Sweetie, is everything okay? You look a little stressed,” Ma said, stroking his now good-size pot belly, which protruded over his waistband, though he was wearing his loosest new jeans.

“Brian!” a voice called from upstairs, and his younger sister flew into the kitchen, embracing him from behind and turning him around. “Hey! Missed you! … Oh, wow! You’re, you’ve …” her voice trailed off. Brian bit his lip. Time to grab this bull.

“Put on a few pounds, yep,” he said clearly, patting his belly. “My friend likes me this way.” Bingo! Distraction a success. Suddenly the attention was off his gut and on his heart. What friend? Who was this? From the cruise? Really? Did she live nearby? Oh, too bad … oh, chat rooms? Like phone calls? Was it serious? Why on earth didn’t he invite her to come? That last earned him a scolding clip on the head from Ma, standing on her tiptoes to do it. “You make sure you invite her for Christmas, now.”

“We’ll see,” Brian said, making shooing motions with his hands.

Later, as Brian and his sister, Bronwyn, walked the dog, Bron said hesitantly, “Been to the doctor lately? I mean…”

“I know what you mean.” It came out more abruptly than he had intended. “I work out a lot, and I eat pretty healthy … my blood pressure is always good and low, and so’s my pulse. I do know what you mean,” he said gently. “But to be honest, I don’t mind being bigger, and Karen really does like me this way.”

“Aha, Karen,” Bron said triumphantly. “She does, really?”

“She does, really,” Brian confirmed. “Don’t know why, she just does.” He did know why, but there were boundaries in any relationship, and this one was theirs, his and Karen’s.

Over dinner, which included not just the four of them but several neighbors, talk was wide-ranging and food was devoured eagerly and with many extra helpings. Brian reveled in the feeling of increasing fullness, marveling at how truly enjoyable it was to feel his belly stretch, his stomach fill, the pull of his sides and the heavy sag of his gut as the feast progressed. He felt his waistband pinch and his belt shrink. He let his belt out a notch, then another. He grew warm and satiated, becoming drowsy and dazed. Suddenly he was stuffed to bursting and couldn’t swallow another bite. He wanted just one more taste of everything, but simply couldn’t manage.

With a grunt, he got his chair pushed back and started to stand. Oof. He was too full to move, truly. He braced his hands on the table and slowly hauled himself up, wincing as his engorged gut sloshed heavily. His aching and swollen belly seemed to be dragging him down, and it hurt to straighten up. He unbuttoned his jeans, which provided scant relief, and dragged himself and his load into the den, where he sank into a recliner and gladly reclined. It felt good to be so full, but he was clearly pushing his limits. He gently pressed a hand to his distended midsection, finding it taut and tender. He belched. “Mmm, scuse me,” he mumbled, but his was not the only digestive tract response in the room. Brian’s dad and the other two men were similarly stuffed, by the look of it, bellies bulging, faces flushed and ruddy with too much food and wine. Grunting, Brian’s dad reached for the remote and turned on a football game, which the men then “watched,” semi-conscious, dopily digesting.

When Brian returned home, he got on the scale to discover the damage, although the effort it had taken to fasten his jeans that morning told him enough. The scale showed 239, a four-pound gain, although Brian suspected (okay, hoped) some of that might be temporary.

In early December, Karen phoned with good news, her voice swooping with excitement. A computer consultant, she’d gotten an eight-week gig with a large company in Brian’s city, all the excuse she needed to move her base of operations. Her quiet networking had produced measurable interest among enough local businesses there that the actual single contract tipped the balance. She was packing as she spoke on her headset phone, and Brian could hear objects being put in boxes.

“So,” Brian said, trying to sound casual, “You want to move into this place or share something?”

“Oh, share,” she said promptly. “Two-thirds of your rent plus two-thirds of mine equals $1,450 a month. Anything in that range should give us a nice roomy place.”

As usual, she was right. She told him she trusted his judgment implicitly, but added, “Just send me the link to their Web site once you find a place,” demonstrating her usual good sense.

The housing market was soft enough that it didn’t take Brian long to find a place. It was convenient to where he worked, convenient to Karen’s eight-week deal place, and was offering a sweet move-in special. Brian moved in his boxes, but waited until Karen arrived at the wheel of a Ryder truck with her car being towed behind, then added his furniture. Together, with buddies Brian had recruited, they moved in, wisely putting the new king-size bed together and making it first. By the end of the day, sure enough, all they wanted was to collapse into it.

Both were efficient about setting up housekeeping and had the place settled by a week before Christmas, prompting Karen to talk Brian into putting up a tree. Brian got it settled and standing with some huffing and grunting -- he was up to 245, thanks in large part to Karen’s holiday baking -- and when it was finally decorated, they sat with their feet up, watching the lights and drinking hot chocolate.

“Theoretically,” Brian said, making his voice pompous, “I could become like the universe, continually expanding.”

Karen giggled. “You’ll know what’s right. We both will.”

Brian made a face. “Good thing you’ll be the hot news at Christmas. It’ll distract them.”

Karen giggled again. “Brian, honestly. You make them sound like guard dogs.”

Brian patted his belly, currently bulging with cocoa and way too many cookies. “They’re nice … just a little interested in my private life.”

At Christmas, as predicted, the attention was on Karen. Brian had already prepped his family, telling them that it was way too soon to expect him to have given Karen a ring, “So don’t look for one, okay, please.” His parents left him alone about his weight, although Bron managed to needle him from time to time, occasionally giving his paunch a poke. “Ho ho ho,” she’d say. She took to raising her eyebrows at him whenever she caught him with his mouth full, which was often. The eyebrows would be accompanied by a smirk and a wink, or a poke in his pot belly if she was close enough.

“I’ll show you jolly,” Brian would growl, trying to make it a joke, but why did other people have to bother themselves with his weight? Brian was dimly conscious that he was eating even more than usual, both in subconscious defiance and because he was tense about displaying Karen to his family, although the meeting and visit went well. On Christmas Eve, they ate at midafternoon, an enormous ham basted in brown sugar and marmalade, scored and studded with cloves, and with a ridiculous number of side dishes. Brian ate hugely, basking in the awareness of Karen by his side and enjoying the now-familiar sensation of his belly filling, stretching, the pull of his clothing, the distention of his swelling midsection, the relief of finally sinking into a recliner for a food-induced stupor/nap.

The scale on New Year’s Day showed 255. Brian sighed, peed, padded back to bed and gladly slipped in next to Karen and the miniature dachshund he’d given her as a Christmas gift, though of course he hadn’t brought it into the house until after they were back at the apartment and the tree was down. The dog licked his thigh.

“I resolve,” Brian said, interrupted with a kiss.

“I resolve,” he tried again. Another kiss.

“I resolve to love you, love myself, and … and …” he ran out of inspiration.

Karen took over. “And that this be the best year ever for both of us.”

The dog sneezed, and then the phone rang, interrupting the mood. Karen’s face clouded as she listened. She put the call on hold. “This job,” she said. “When I’m done they want me to go to their branch office in Columbus. I’d be gone for three weeks.”

“Well? Take it,” Brian urged.

“Three weeks…”

“I know, I know,” Brian said, framing her face with his hands. “I don’t want you gone either. But take it. I’ll survive, I think,” he said, and she laughed.

She picked the phone back up and finished the call. “Calling on New Year’s Day! They must really want me! They’re faxing a contract, I have to go turn stuff on.” She hopped out of bed.

The eight-week job that had been the ostensible impetus for the move was finished at the end of January, and on February 1, she got in the car for the drive to Columbus. Their kiss was so long they had to come up for air a few times. “Look after yourself,” were her parting words, but Brian didn’t. The ache of missing her was so strong he was nauseated. He slept badly, threw himself into pickup basketball games and long runs to clear his head, and scarcely ate. No food held any appeal for him, and he had to force himself to down a cup of soup or handful of crackers and peanut butter from time to time. Coffee was a good group, right? By the time Karen returned, Brian looked as though he’d been ill: Deep shadows had carved themselves under his eyes, he had lost 10 pounds, and Karen gasped at the sight of him.

“Good grief,” she said. “I’m going to the grocery store this instant. You,” she poked at his belly, “shower and shave.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Brian said, grinning from ear to ear, happy beyond words to have her back.

Door open, she paused. “When I get back, I am going to stuff you until you can’t move.”

During a long, leisurely shower, Brian kept grinning, thinking about her parting words.

Karen returned eventually, and Brian helped her schlep the groceries up and put stuff away. “Now go walk Fido,” she said. “I’ll make stuff.”

Brian gave Fido a good long walk, and when they got back, the kitchen smelled heavenly. “Sit on the sofa,” Karen commanded, pointing with a wooden spoon. Brian sat.

Karen brought in a deep serving bowl heaped with radiatore with pesto. “What’s wrong with you?” she scolded.

“Nothing, now you’re back,” Brian said with his mouth full, but Karen wasn’t satisfied. “Seriously,” Brian said, hungrily gulping pasta. “I missed you like crazy. Couldn’t sleep. Nothing held any appeal for me without you around. I can’t get over,” between large bites of cheesy, buttery garlic bread, “how much I missed you.” He hiccuped. “Eating too fast.”

“Slow down, partner,” Karen said, laughing. “Plenty more where that came from. Full yet?” From her perch on the coffee table, she gave his belly a poke. “Not even close,” she diagnosed.

“Not even,” Brian concurred through a mouthful of bread. “Meefit ummig.” He swallowed. “Keep it coming.” Karen handed him a bottle of water. “Slow down,” she chided.

He hiccuped again. “Whoops, yes’m,” he replied. Karen disappeared into the kitchen, and Brian leaned back and steadily drank the water. The initial edge of his appetite had been blunted, but his capacity had increased over the last few months, and he was eagerly anticipating more.

Karen returned with a large plateful of fruit salad and a bowlful of yogurt, and Brian gladly dived in, talking with his mouth full, his emotional state having made a 180-degree turn now that Karen was back. He couldn’t get over how much he’d missed her and how much better he felt with her return. He inhaled the fruit and yogurt and leaned back. Patting his belly, he belched. “Whoops.”

Karen smiled and rubbed his stomach. “More to come.”

The fruit and yogurt plate was followed by toasted pita with big bowls of hummus and tabbouleh. The water bottle was nearly empty and Brian’s stomach was nearly full. He sighed, enjoying the resultant pull he felt, and laid a hand on his steadily swelling abdomen, warm and heavy, his belly signaling a pleasant ache. Karen brought out some more water along with grapes and cheese, popping the grapes into his mouth one by one, Brian reclining like a Roman noble, absently massaging his ballooning gut. Karen took away the empty plate and returned with dessert: fully half a chocolate pie, cut into bite-size pieces, drenched in whipped cream, caramel, and chocolate sauce. Brian moaned aloud at the sight.

“No,” he mumbled, letting his head loll back. “Nope. Can’t do it.” He rested a hand on his now-distended belly, taut and aching. His midriff protruded firmly, well beyond his waistband, his shirt creeping upward, lacking the fabric to completely cover his massively bulging waistline. He’d eaten a full pound of pasta with sauce, half a loaf of cheese bread, countless rounds of pita with seemingly pints of hummus and tabbouleh, enough fruit to stop Carmen Miranda in her tracks, and all washed down with more than two quarts of water. He was stuffed to bursting, his overfilled stomach making alarming digestive noises. He was so full his ribs felt stretched, his sides pulling as his engorged gut seemed undecided whether to surrender to gravity; with every shallow breath he thought he would pop.

At the same time, he was experiencing the mind-bending pleasure of satiation, dopily tranquil and unable to do anything but surrender to the warmth and extreme satisfaction of being filled to the brim. His stomach throbbed, he was puffing, his waist screamed for relief, and every nerve ending was alert, he was indescribably aroused, and if he could move he would be crushing Karen in his embrace.

But he was too full to move, so, reclining, he laid a hand on either side of his swollen belly, unable now to see his feet or in fact anything but the sphere of his middle. Karen was beside him, bowl in hand, free hand gently massaging his aching stomach, and it felt so good he moaned again.

“Yes, you can,” Karen murmured. “Chocolate is good.”

“Mmm.” Brian closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

“Mmm,” Brian repeated as the sweet, smooth, achingly rich bite slid down his throat. Oh, he was full. Mm. Oh. He wasn’t sure he could engage in swallowing any more, but no swallowing seemed to be required; as if preprogrammed, each mouthful slid right down. He could almost see his belly grow with each bite, and he was sure he would burst, but he didn’t, and all he could do was moan in satisfaction.

He was barely conscious when he heard the bowl clink onto the coffee table. “Please don’t make me move,” he slurred thickly, but she wasn’t going to.

“Let me help you lie down,” she murmured, and before he could protest he was being eased into something like a horizontal position, propped up with throw pillows, and then Karen got his pants unbuttoned. Without much assistance from him, she somehow pulled off his pants and underwear.

“There,” she said. “That’s better,” and it was, especially once Karen began massaging his tautly distended belly, easing the tightness where the waistband had met its match, aiding in the slow and audible digestive process, and massaging elsewhere as well.

Then as before, he felt her weight on his achingly overloaded belly, and he said, “No, don’t, I’ll bust,” and her laugh poured over him.

“No you won’t, silly,” and she kissed him.

The pressure on his full gut was too much, and he couldn’t suppress a belch, but she laughed again, and then they were in rhythm again, and the weight of his lover on his tautly rounded stomach felt wonderful, heightening sensations, improving their intimacy, becoming a part of their coupling. The pressure on his aching belly both sharpened and eased it at once. Time seemed to slow down and it might have been days, weeks, forever before they were finished. There wasn’t room to lie side by side, so Karen retreated to a little farther down the sectional and, resting his feet in her lap, massaged his feet.

“Mm … mm,” was all Brian could manage for a time, and Karen too seemed beyond speech.

“Karen my love,” Brian finally murmured. She met his gaze. What he wanted seemed so foregone that he almost didn’t have to say it, but the words needed to meet the air. “Will you be my wife?”

Her answer was wordless.

 

[kosen]

 

[Risible]

 

[zonker]

 

[fatmac]

 

[Koldun]