Big Beautiful Dreamer
ridiculously contented
~BHM, Stuffing, Foreplay. Does a young man have the stamina to make it through four parties in one day? His new girlfriend might have the cure.
Link to the previous story in the Jamie's Tummy series here
Afterward, Jamie Foster was not quite sure how he had managed to agree to four Labor Day gatherings. One at his mom’s, one at his dad’s, one with friends, and one at the sister of his girlfriend, Anne Moody. They had been dating for several months now. Anne had balanced the logistics of the latter two so that they could make both events.
His mother was a morning person and disliked heat and humidity intensely, so it was no surprise that her party was a brunch. Jamie showed up at 10:30, alone, not at all ready to subject Anne to his mother’s sharp tongue. He noted that his older brother and his wife and their kids were already there and that Mikey had a Mimosa in his hand. Given the flushed look on his ruddy face, Jamie suspected that it wasn’t his first.
The brothers exchanged greetings and Jamie gave his mother a dutiful kiss on the cheek. The gathering, as Jamie could have predicted, was deathly boring, but Jamie knew he’d have to stay at least a couple of hours. He occupied himself by entertaining his niece and nephew and by eating. His mother spent lavishly on her parties, and always had them catered, so the food was spectacular.
Jamie noshed his way through miniature quiches, pigs in a blanket, fruit salad, pasta salad, and an assortment of pastries. He avoided the alcohol, since he was driving and it was likely to be a long day, but told himself that his abstinence gave him free rein at the pastry table.
By the time he escaped at a quarter past twelve, Jamie felt pleasantly replete, the waistband of his khaki shorts just beginning to tug at a full belly. That morning, his tummy had been in its usual state, relatively flat, if a little soft. Jamie had broad shoulders but an undefined torso, and usually carried in the neighborhood of 190 pounds. At 5’10,” that gave him just a little midsection flab. He wore 32- or 34-waist pants, the latter (as today) sitting a little loose and requiring a belt. The shorts still sat comfortably, but the waistband now just encircled his slightly thicker waist, resting on a comfortably filled tummy. Relaxed, he drove to his father’s cookout, which was much more down the scale and much more to Jamie’s taste.
The beer and wine were flowing freely, and it was harder to resist, since his dad kept trying to press a cold one into his hand, finally and with good-natured grumbling acknowledging the sense of driving sober.
Jamie joined in informal tossings of football and Frisbee, dipped in and out of conversations, and absently put away no fewer than three brats and two large burgers, along with countless handfuls of chips, cookies, and popcorn. He dozed off in a webbed chair under a tree for a half hour or so and awoke stiff and groggy. Thought to shake it off by chugging a cold wet Coke. As he stood to retrieve the drink, he groaned and stretched, feeling the heavy pull of his now overfilled tummy. No longer flat or soft, his belly now protruded a little, forming a small firm spare tire and forcing his waistband and belt to slide south. His stomach gurgled and grumbled at the movement. The Coke would settle his aching and tender belly, right? He chugged it down, then made a face as a belch rumbled up. Oof. The stretched flesh of his abdomen felt tender and sore, his sides tugging and his stomach beginning to ache just a little.
He winced as he slid into the driver’s seat, and the act of having to sit upright compressed his swollen gut. Belt and waistband pinched, and he wasn’t thrilled at the pressure the seat belt added. He drove one-handed, the other resting on his full and bloated tummy.
All that was forgotten when he got to his friends’ party and saw Anne, wearing a sundress that showed off her summer tan, her chestnut hair flowing over her shoulders. Anne happily looped her arm through his and they wandered through the party, which was just getting started. Ted wouldn’t be firing up the grill until four o’clock.
“Good,” Jamie said to Anne, upon learning the time table. She raised her eyebrows. Embarrassed, he patted his stomach. “I’ve already eaten too much,” he admitted. “I’ve been to two parties already, you know?”
Anne leaned in and rubbed his polo-clad midriff. “Teddy bear,” she said fondly. “Just snack a little if you feel like it.”
Jamie’s tummy didn’t feel like it at all, but eating is a highly social activity, and whenever he and Anne joined a conversation centered around a tray of brownies, a plate of veggies and dip, or a bowl of snack mix, Jamie found himself eating right along with the others. A jalapeno popper here, a handful of pretzels there, one little brownie. And the smell from the grill became irresistible even as Jamie registered that his stomach was once again becoming full.
Very full. Stuffed full of a huge brunch and a day’s worth of nonstop snacking, topped with a disgraceful amount of burgers and brats and now being stretched toward maximum capacity with an assembly of snacks, each one small and innocent on its own, but when taken collectively were making for a stuffed tummy. His stomach had really begun to ache and his belly now pressed very firmly against his belt and waistband, which were unmistakably pinching.
But the smell from the grill… oh, the smell from the grill ….
Jamie managed to find room for two footlong chili cheese dogs and a fat onion-dill burger on a toasted Kaiser roll. And a scoop of potato salad, and some homemade baked beans, and a thin slice of very rich chocolate turtle cheesecake.
By the time they slipped away at five, headed for Anne’s sister’s party, Jamie’s tummy had become uncomfortably stuffed, almost to the point of pain.
“Oof.” He slid behind the wheel with a grunt, grimacing as his waistband and belt sliced into his swollen and tender belly. He belched. “Oh. Urp. Full to the brim.”
“No way,” Anne announced. “My sister loves cookouts, right? There’ll be tons of food. What will they think if you don’t eat anything? That would be rude.” She patted his bulging middle. “Teddy bear,” she said fondly.
Jamie didn’t say anything. One hand on the wheel, the other hand rested on his poor overloaded tummy. Stretched and sore, his stomach gurgled and grumbled at preliminary digestive efforts. The compression of his upright posture pushed and jostled his bloated and swollen belly, putting pressure on his waistband and belt, which were beginning to pinch unmercifully. Without enough space, his midsection was thrust out sharply, causing a taut distention that had begun to strain the fabric of his polo shirt. The sides of his stretched waist pulled heavily and his stretched stomach had begun to throb.
It was with no small relief that Jamie pulled up to the curb of Anne’s sister’s house. It also appeared that the main meal was at least an hour or two away, since the grill had been uncovered but was still silent and cold. Snacks were laid out on every flat surface, but Jamie could skip those easily enough.
That’s what he told himself.
For the first twenty minutes or so, he managed admirably. He was already so very full that he didn’t want to taste anything. But then Anne’s sister bent forward and laid a tray of crudités on the barstool serving as a table around with Anne and Jamie and several others were gathered. Celery sticks, coolly damp, spread with herbed cream cheese. Baby carrots cleverly sliced into matchsticks, so tiny and sweet-looking. Flowered radishes, thin strips of bell pepper and squash, and a cool, creamy dip. The day was warm and Jamie had spent most of it outdoors. His shirt was damp with perspiration. The vegetables looked so very cool and tempting.
Munching a last mouthful of cream cheese and celery, Jamie agreeably followed Anne into another conversation and absently joined the others in dipping into a bowl of snack mix. He registered almost abstractly the stretch and heaviness of his sides, the firm tautness of his firmly distended abdomen, the relentless pinching of his belt and waistband, and most of all the persistent underlying ache of his stomach. Each sensation was causing discomfort on its own, but taken all together, they gave Jamie a feeling of deep, almost primal, satisfaction.
He had stocked up, he had been assiduous in stoking his own personal fuel-pit, and his body was informing him that he had done gloriously well in his endeavors. The ache and pull of his midsection, the taut warmth of his gut, the muscular stretch of his tummy all combined to make Jamie feel drowsily replete, hazily pleased with his efforts, even engendering an underlying sense of pride in his ability to hunt and gather.
So abstracted, he mused his way through the rest of the conversation, oblivious to his surroundings, and was startled when Anne’s husband, Jake, announced that he had laid the first offerings on the grill. Jamie glanced at his watch: 5:45. Jake’s stance and demeanor made it clear that he put great stock in his grilling abilities. Jamie thought it prudent that he make a good showing lest he let down the side.
He found a seat by Anne at one of the card tables, and when Jake came around with the platter selected a fat turkey burger and a sausage, sizzling and popping enticingly and almost bursting out of its skin. Jamie knew how the sausage felt.
After his first burger and sausage, but before he tackled the chips, beans, and coleslaw, Jamie finally and prudently let his belt out a couple of notches. It provided only a slight easing of pressure across his gorged midsection, because the waistband of his shorts was still squeezing his bloated belly.
Beans, coleslaw, mopped up with chips. Another burger, this one buffalo meat. Another sausage. And the brownies looked so moist and crumbly that Jamie just had to down a couple, they were so good.
Jamie wasn’t going to undress in front of Anne’s sister’s friends, but he was more than ready to unbutton his shorts. His belly was heavy and sore and felt ready to burst. His astoundingly full tummy was stretched well beyond its accustomed limits, and it felt as though it was packed with food up to the top of his throat. He thought if he moved, even a little, he would overflow. Like a balloon swelled with much too much air, the merest touch of the tip of a pin to the tightly distended surface of his aching belly would cause it to burst.
He sat, flushed and dopey with the day’s gorging, at the table, idly watching Anne and somebody else play cards. He supposed he’d been invited and he supposed he had declined. He wasn’t entirely sure. Everything sounded rather dim and distant, and he thought all the blood in him must be flowing to his bursting belly, emergency vehicles dispatched to manage the overload.
As twilight settled in, Jake toasted marshmallows over the grill and Anne and her sister carried around plates of s’mores. Jake bit into the familiar mixture of marshmallow, chocolate and graham, groaning aloud at the taste. Full as he was, swollen and achingly replete as his stomach felt, s’mores were a requirement nonetheless.
At length they made their goodbyes and staggered (well, Jamie staggered) out to the Jeep. Anne made no comment as Jamie dug the keys out of his pocket, with some effort, and handed them to her. He hauled himself into the passenger seat and grunted as he managed at last to undo his belt and then the button and zipper on the shorts. He supposed he was grossing Anne out with his apelike behavior, but his vividly distended belly was crying out for relief.
It felt marvelous to have even that slight easing of pressure on the taut swell of his gut. Marvelous to slide his hand into the waistband of his boxers and give his bulging and swollen belly a little space. Marvelous just to rest his hand on his warm and perspiring gut, to recline the seat, to set the stage for a long period of digestion.
Anne glanced over at Jamie and a smile quirked at her lips. His shorts were undone, his shirt tugged up, his belly was hugely and tightly swollen, protruding roundly beyond the limits of his shorts. His hair was tousled, his face flushed, and his eyes half-closed and glassy. He hadn’t drunk a drop but was gloriously stoned on a daylong feast, stuffed to bursting and brimful.
She reached a hand over and gently began to massage and, so lightly, pat his tummy. Swollen and protuberant, round and tight, firm and warm, it felt marvelous beneath her fingers, stirring her own urges.
Jamie belched. “Urp. Sorry. Ate too much. Urp.” He cut his eyes at her, looking sheepish.
“Nonsense,” Anne said soothingly. “Guys need to stoke up. I think you look adorable right now.”
“Adorable like a hibernating—hic—bear. Ow.”
“No, I mean it,” Anne said. Her heart was thumping. She lightly patted his bulging belly with the flat of her hand. “I quite like the teddy bear look. Very round and warm and very … inviting…” Her hand slid down from his belly, toward the waistband of his boxers.
Somehow Jamie knew that, full as he was, swollen and aching as was his belly, stuffed to bursting as was his tummy, the press of Anne’s naked body to his would feel like nothing he had ever before encountered. Suddenly it seemed the perfect way to end the evening. Anne did not mind that he had stuffed himself silly. On the contrary, she quite seemed to like it. Jamie began to envision a most interesting future.
Link to the previous story in the Jamie's Tummy series here
Jamie's Tummy on Labor Day
A Prequel
A Prequel
Afterward, Jamie Foster was not quite sure how he had managed to agree to four Labor Day gatherings. One at his mom’s, one at his dad’s, one with friends, and one at the sister of his girlfriend, Anne Moody. They had been dating for several months now. Anne had balanced the logistics of the latter two so that they could make both events.
His mother was a morning person and disliked heat and humidity intensely, so it was no surprise that her party was a brunch. Jamie showed up at 10:30, alone, not at all ready to subject Anne to his mother’s sharp tongue. He noted that his older brother and his wife and their kids were already there and that Mikey had a Mimosa in his hand. Given the flushed look on his ruddy face, Jamie suspected that it wasn’t his first.
The brothers exchanged greetings and Jamie gave his mother a dutiful kiss on the cheek. The gathering, as Jamie could have predicted, was deathly boring, but Jamie knew he’d have to stay at least a couple of hours. He occupied himself by entertaining his niece and nephew and by eating. His mother spent lavishly on her parties, and always had them catered, so the food was spectacular.
Jamie noshed his way through miniature quiches, pigs in a blanket, fruit salad, pasta salad, and an assortment of pastries. He avoided the alcohol, since he was driving and it was likely to be a long day, but told himself that his abstinence gave him free rein at the pastry table.
By the time he escaped at a quarter past twelve, Jamie felt pleasantly replete, the waistband of his khaki shorts just beginning to tug at a full belly. That morning, his tummy had been in its usual state, relatively flat, if a little soft. Jamie had broad shoulders but an undefined torso, and usually carried in the neighborhood of 190 pounds. At 5’10,” that gave him just a little midsection flab. He wore 32- or 34-waist pants, the latter (as today) sitting a little loose and requiring a belt. The shorts still sat comfortably, but the waistband now just encircled his slightly thicker waist, resting on a comfortably filled tummy. Relaxed, he drove to his father’s cookout, which was much more down the scale and much more to Jamie’s taste.
The beer and wine were flowing freely, and it was harder to resist, since his dad kept trying to press a cold one into his hand, finally and with good-natured grumbling acknowledging the sense of driving sober.
Jamie joined in informal tossings of football and Frisbee, dipped in and out of conversations, and absently put away no fewer than three brats and two large burgers, along with countless handfuls of chips, cookies, and popcorn. He dozed off in a webbed chair under a tree for a half hour or so and awoke stiff and groggy. Thought to shake it off by chugging a cold wet Coke. As he stood to retrieve the drink, he groaned and stretched, feeling the heavy pull of his now overfilled tummy. No longer flat or soft, his belly now protruded a little, forming a small firm spare tire and forcing his waistband and belt to slide south. His stomach gurgled and grumbled at the movement. The Coke would settle his aching and tender belly, right? He chugged it down, then made a face as a belch rumbled up. Oof. The stretched flesh of his abdomen felt tender and sore, his sides tugging and his stomach beginning to ache just a little.
He winced as he slid into the driver’s seat, and the act of having to sit upright compressed his swollen gut. Belt and waistband pinched, and he wasn’t thrilled at the pressure the seat belt added. He drove one-handed, the other resting on his full and bloated tummy.
All that was forgotten when he got to his friends’ party and saw Anne, wearing a sundress that showed off her summer tan, her chestnut hair flowing over her shoulders. Anne happily looped her arm through his and they wandered through the party, which was just getting started. Ted wouldn’t be firing up the grill until four o’clock.
“Good,” Jamie said to Anne, upon learning the time table. She raised her eyebrows. Embarrassed, he patted his stomach. “I’ve already eaten too much,” he admitted. “I’ve been to two parties already, you know?”
Anne leaned in and rubbed his polo-clad midriff. “Teddy bear,” she said fondly. “Just snack a little if you feel like it.”
Jamie’s tummy didn’t feel like it at all, but eating is a highly social activity, and whenever he and Anne joined a conversation centered around a tray of brownies, a plate of veggies and dip, or a bowl of snack mix, Jamie found himself eating right along with the others. A jalapeno popper here, a handful of pretzels there, one little brownie. And the smell from the grill became irresistible even as Jamie registered that his stomach was once again becoming full.
Very full. Stuffed full of a huge brunch and a day’s worth of nonstop snacking, topped with a disgraceful amount of burgers and brats and now being stretched toward maximum capacity with an assembly of snacks, each one small and innocent on its own, but when taken collectively were making for a stuffed tummy. His stomach had really begun to ache and his belly now pressed very firmly against his belt and waistband, which were unmistakably pinching.
But the smell from the grill… oh, the smell from the grill ….
Jamie managed to find room for two footlong chili cheese dogs and a fat onion-dill burger on a toasted Kaiser roll. And a scoop of potato salad, and some homemade baked beans, and a thin slice of very rich chocolate turtle cheesecake.
By the time they slipped away at five, headed for Anne’s sister’s party, Jamie’s tummy had become uncomfortably stuffed, almost to the point of pain.
“Oof.” He slid behind the wheel with a grunt, grimacing as his waistband and belt sliced into his swollen and tender belly. He belched. “Oh. Urp. Full to the brim.”
“No way,” Anne announced. “My sister loves cookouts, right? There’ll be tons of food. What will they think if you don’t eat anything? That would be rude.” She patted his bulging middle. “Teddy bear,” she said fondly.
Jamie didn’t say anything. One hand on the wheel, the other hand rested on his poor overloaded tummy. Stretched and sore, his stomach gurgled and grumbled at preliminary digestive efforts. The compression of his upright posture pushed and jostled his bloated and swollen belly, putting pressure on his waistband and belt, which were beginning to pinch unmercifully. Without enough space, his midsection was thrust out sharply, causing a taut distention that had begun to strain the fabric of his polo shirt. The sides of his stretched waist pulled heavily and his stretched stomach had begun to throb.
It was with no small relief that Jamie pulled up to the curb of Anne’s sister’s house. It also appeared that the main meal was at least an hour or two away, since the grill had been uncovered but was still silent and cold. Snacks were laid out on every flat surface, but Jamie could skip those easily enough.
That’s what he told himself.
For the first twenty minutes or so, he managed admirably. He was already so very full that he didn’t want to taste anything. But then Anne’s sister bent forward and laid a tray of crudités on the barstool serving as a table around with Anne and Jamie and several others were gathered. Celery sticks, coolly damp, spread with herbed cream cheese. Baby carrots cleverly sliced into matchsticks, so tiny and sweet-looking. Flowered radishes, thin strips of bell pepper and squash, and a cool, creamy dip. The day was warm and Jamie had spent most of it outdoors. His shirt was damp with perspiration. The vegetables looked so very cool and tempting.
Munching a last mouthful of cream cheese and celery, Jamie agreeably followed Anne into another conversation and absently joined the others in dipping into a bowl of snack mix. He registered almost abstractly the stretch and heaviness of his sides, the firm tautness of his firmly distended abdomen, the relentless pinching of his belt and waistband, and most of all the persistent underlying ache of his stomach. Each sensation was causing discomfort on its own, but taken all together, they gave Jamie a feeling of deep, almost primal, satisfaction.
He had stocked up, he had been assiduous in stoking his own personal fuel-pit, and his body was informing him that he had done gloriously well in his endeavors. The ache and pull of his midsection, the taut warmth of his gut, the muscular stretch of his tummy all combined to make Jamie feel drowsily replete, hazily pleased with his efforts, even engendering an underlying sense of pride in his ability to hunt and gather.
So abstracted, he mused his way through the rest of the conversation, oblivious to his surroundings, and was startled when Anne’s husband, Jake, announced that he had laid the first offerings on the grill. Jamie glanced at his watch: 5:45. Jake’s stance and demeanor made it clear that he put great stock in his grilling abilities. Jamie thought it prudent that he make a good showing lest he let down the side.
He found a seat by Anne at one of the card tables, and when Jake came around with the platter selected a fat turkey burger and a sausage, sizzling and popping enticingly and almost bursting out of its skin. Jamie knew how the sausage felt.
After his first burger and sausage, but before he tackled the chips, beans, and coleslaw, Jamie finally and prudently let his belt out a couple of notches. It provided only a slight easing of pressure across his gorged midsection, because the waistband of his shorts was still squeezing his bloated belly.
Beans, coleslaw, mopped up with chips. Another burger, this one buffalo meat. Another sausage. And the brownies looked so moist and crumbly that Jamie just had to down a couple, they were so good.
Jamie wasn’t going to undress in front of Anne’s sister’s friends, but he was more than ready to unbutton his shorts. His belly was heavy and sore and felt ready to burst. His astoundingly full tummy was stretched well beyond its accustomed limits, and it felt as though it was packed with food up to the top of his throat. He thought if he moved, even a little, he would overflow. Like a balloon swelled with much too much air, the merest touch of the tip of a pin to the tightly distended surface of his aching belly would cause it to burst.
He sat, flushed and dopey with the day’s gorging, at the table, idly watching Anne and somebody else play cards. He supposed he’d been invited and he supposed he had declined. He wasn’t entirely sure. Everything sounded rather dim and distant, and he thought all the blood in him must be flowing to his bursting belly, emergency vehicles dispatched to manage the overload.
As twilight settled in, Jake toasted marshmallows over the grill and Anne and her sister carried around plates of s’mores. Jake bit into the familiar mixture of marshmallow, chocolate and graham, groaning aloud at the taste. Full as he was, swollen and achingly replete as his stomach felt, s’mores were a requirement nonetheless.
At length they made their goodbyes and staggered (well, Jamie staggered) out to the Jeep. Anne made no comment as Jamie dug the keys out of his pocket, with some effort, and handed them to her. He hauled himself into the passenger seat and grunted as he managed at last to undo his belt and then the button and zipper on the shorts. He supposed he was grossing Anne out with his apelike behavior, but his vividly distended belly was crying out for relief.
It felt marvelous to have even that slight easing of pressure on the taut swell of his gut. Marvelous to slide his hand into the waistband of his boxers and give his bulging and swollen belly a little space. Marvelous just to rest his hand on his warm and perspiring gut, to recline the seat, to set the stage for a long period of digestion.
Anne glanced over at Jamie and a smile quirked at her lips. His shorts were undone, his shirt tugged up, his belly was hugely and tightly swollen, protruding roundly beyond the limits of his shorts. His hair was tousled, his face flushed, and his eyes half-closed and glassy. He hadn’t drunk a drop but was gloriously stoned on a daylong feast, stuffed to bursting and brimful.
She reached a hand over and gently began to massage and, so lightly, pat his tummy. Swollen and protuberant, round and tight, firm and warm, it felt marvelous beneath her fingers, stirring her own urges.
Jamie belched. “Urp. Sorry. Ate too much. Urp.” He cut his eyes at her, looking sheepish.
“Nonsense,” Anne said soothingly. “Guys need to stoke up. I think you look adorable right now.”
“Adorable like a hibernating—hic—bear. Ow.”
“No, I mean it,” Anne said. Her heart was thumping. She lightly patted his bulging belly with the flat of her hand. “I quite like the teddy bear look. Very round and warm and very … inviting…” Her hand slid down from his belly, toward the waistband of his boxers.
Somehow Jamie knew that, full as he was, swollen and aching as was his belly, stuffed to bursting as was his tummy, the press of Anne’s naked body to his would feel like nothing he had ever before encountered. Suddenly it seemed the perfect way to end the evening. Anne did not mind that he had stuffed himself silly. On the contrary, she quite seemed to like it. Jamie began to envision a most interesting future.
