Puppy Love - by Big Beautiful Dreamer (~BBW, Romance, ~~WG)

[Big Beautiful Dreamer]

~BBW, Romance, ~~WG - A veterinarian is lucky in love - and gains a few pounds in the process

Puppy Love

by Big Beautiful Dreamer
​

Kellie didn’t mean to stare. She really couldn’t help it. After the man’s workout, his sleeveless gray shirt was sweat-soaked and clung to him. She could virtually count his ribs, see the skin stretched across the back, see how his long waist was indented like a rangy child’s above sharp hipbones. The man was skinny. Not even slender – skinny. He was otherwise good-looking, with a long handsome face, full lips, large dark blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and a heedful of prematurely gray hair. Despite the hair, he looked to be not even thirty.

Crap, he’d caught her staring. She blushed rose-petal pink and looked away, too late.

“Hi.” The man was beside her and extended his hand. “I’m Ross Martin.”

“Kellie Peeler. Hi.” Kellie shook his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be staring. You have … really nice hair.”

Ross laughed and bit his lip. “Thanks. My brother’s a hairdresser.”

“Oh, really. Here in town?”

“Nah. Chicago.”

“Oof, I couldn’t live in a place that big,” Kellie said.

“Me neither. Hey – if you’re finished with your workout, you want to go get a smoothie?”

“Sure,” Kellie said. “I mean, I am. I mean, I do.” She blushed again and unthinkingly pressed a hand to her tummy. It was soft and cushiony, and she’d joined the gym in hopes of changing that.

Fifteen minutes later, Ross Martin in street clothes proved to be equally handsome. He wore a thick sweater that added bulk, and his jeans accentuated his long legs.

Kellie was wearing a T-shirt that sort of pulled across the middle and jeans that used to fit a little better, and she hadn’t expected to be seen in public in them for that long.

Ross, it was revealed, was a veterinarian. Kellie worked in the local library. They talked easily, but when Ross ordered a second smoothie, Kellie demurred.

“Full,” she lied, pressing her tummy again.

Ross smiled. “Little girl like you, I guess it doesn’t take much.” He lifted his second smoothie to her in a toast. “I’ve always been bone skinny, and tall. All elbows and knees, that’s me. Kids used to joke that I already had my Halloween costume – I could go as a skeleton.” He shook his head briskly, exorcising the memory. “Ah well. The dogs don’t care.”

“I’ve been wanting to get a dog. Maybe you could advise me.” Kellie had been wanting to get a dog – for all of about ten minutes. They talked about dog personality types and what sort of companion she was looking for. Ross ended by recommending several breeds and mixes, and she promised to visit the animal shelter soon.

Kellie went to the gym only two or three times a week, so it was a month before she happened upon Ross again.

“Hey! How’s the dog thing going?”

“Oh. That.” Kellie blushed. “Haven’t made it to the shelter quite yet.”

“I’d be glad to take you,” Ross offered, and Kellie said yes before the words were out of his mouth.

“Lunch first?” Ross asked. Yes to that, too. Kellie resigned herself to a salad, but Ross insisted on the restaurant’s hot crab dip appetizer, and cleaned his plate of a huge burger and stack of fries.

“I know, it’s not fair,” he said apologetically. “Weight just doesn’t stay. One of these days soon, it’s gonna catch up with me.”

“Not my problem,” Kellie mumbled.

“Hey. What?” Ross exclaimed. “What are you talking about? You’re, um, wow. You’re really pretty, you know that? And you have a really nice figure.”

“Thanks,” Kellie said. Playfully, she pinched the last, lone French fry off his plate and ate it. They both stood up at the same time, Kellie automatically tugging at the hem of her shirt.

“Oof, I’m stuffed,” Ross said. He patted his belly.

“It doesn’t show,” Kellie said, her green eyes dancing. She grinned at him. He grinned back and put his arm around her waist. She waited for him to pull back. He didn’t. They walked hip to hip to their cars and Kellie followed him to the shelter.

“Oh, hi, Dr. Martin,” the receptionist exclaimed. She leaned forward and cooed, “It’s been a little while.” She was short and bony, with black hair in a ponytail and a sharp little chin.

Ross seemed taken by surprise. “I was just here last week. Brought in some dog food.”

“Oh.” The girl pouted. “Guess I missed you.” She continued to ignore Kellie. “What can we do for you?”

Ross cleared his throat. “Miss Peeler would like to see the dogs.”

The girl stood up. “Through here,” she sniffed, twitching her scant rear as she walked.

Ross had an immediate rapport with dogs. His gentle baritone soothed them, and his touch was kind and professional. Kellie finally settled on a pretty mutt who was a mix of chocolate Lab and probably some spaniel, maybe a little hound. She named the dog Cocoa.

After that, conversation at the gym was surprisingly easy. Kellie always had a question about being a new dog owner, and Ross always had answers. After a while, Kellie plucked up her courage and invited Ross over to come see the dog.

Ross immediately made himself at home in Kellie’s back yard, squatting down and letting Cocoa come to him. He talked to him, played fetch with him, and finally sprawled on his back and let Cocoa lick his face. Kellie just sat by and giggled.

“Enough,” Ross said. He hauled himself up. “I’d like to … um, ask you out on a proper date,” he said frankly, meeting her green eyes with his own dark blue ones.

“Then please do,” Kellie replied mischievously.

“Ahem. Miss Peeler, would you be kind enough to accompany me to the pops concert in the park tonight?”

“Tonight? Oh! Sure. Great. Where? I mean, when?” Kellie was stammering and blushing.

“Six o’clock. I’ll bring a big soft blanket, and you can bring Cocoa.”

That afternoon, Kellie set happily to work. She made apple chicken salad, macaroni salad, prepared bunches of grapes, sliced up cheese, added a sleeve of whole-grain crackers, made a pan of rich fudgy brownies, brewed a jar of sun tea, and prepared minced-ham sandwiches. At the last minute, she dashed out and bought a four-pack of mini cheesecake tarts.

Ross rang the doorbell at 5:45. His lean handsome face broadened into a smile at the sight of Kellie wearing her favorite sundress, now a trifle snug across the tummy. Ross was wearing a pink polo shirt and khakis and carried a bunch of irises.

“Oh, how pretty!” Kellie exclaimed. “Thank you.”

Ross in turn exclaimed over the basket, pretending to have trouble hefting it. “How many people were you expecting to feed?”

Ross put the top down on his car and they drove to the park with the breeze blowing and Cocoa blissfully panting.

Ross was duly impressed by the contents of the basket. “Ah, I know,” he said through a mouthful of chicken salad. “You called Goldilocks’ Catering.”

“No,” Kellie said, giggling. She took a bite of sandwich. “Kellie’s.”

It took Ross a second, then he said, “Oh. Wow. You cook like this all the time?”

“Only for certain people,” Kellie said, before realizing how flirtatious that sounded.

“Well, I am glad to be on the list,” Ross said, scooping out more macaroni salad.

By the time the concert began, somehow they had devoured every scrap.

“Oof.” Ross carefully lay down and pillowed his hands behind his head. “That was outstanding. Ate too much.” He stifled a belch.

“Oh, so did I.” Kellie stretched her legs out and laid a hand on her full stomach, bulging a little beneath the fabric of the sundress. She glanced over at Ross, who looked drowsily sated. She blinked. As skinny as he was, she thought she saw a little roundness to his belly.

Ross fell asleep during the last piece of the concert, waking with the applause. He was sheepish and apologetic.

“Too much good food,” he said, dropping his gaze.

“They have these concerts every week in summer, don’t they?” Kellie asked.

“Indeed they do,” Ross replied. “Shall we, um, have an encore next week? I’ll bring the food, it’s my turn.”

“Oh no, let me,” Kellie said. “I love to cook. Truly.”

After some token protests, Ross agreed. Along with the concerts, there were ball games, movies, and of course, Kellie had to bring Cocoa in for shots and checkups. Kellie found herself head over heels in love before she knew what happened. Ross seemed to be there, too.

~*~*~

“What the hell,” Ross said to his reflection. He was dressing in front of the bathroom mirror and his favorite reliable khaki pants were … too tight. He looked down. The waistband, which usually sat comfortably, was pinching, and his empty belly pressed against the clasp; the flesh of his midsection sat right on the fabric, threatening to flop over the sides. Frowning, he shook his head, then finished dressing.

He skipped breakfast.

That weekend, at the lake with Kellie, he reached unthinkingly for a brownie, then paused, his hand hovering over the container.

“What’s wrong?”

Ross made a face. “I seem to be getting a little gut here,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual.

“You? Never.” Kellie bit her lip. In truth, although she faithfully hit the gym two or three days a week, her little tummy jiggle was getting, if anything, bigger.

Ross sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe my metabolism is slowing down. I’d heard that happens when you get into your late twenties.”

“Oh yeah, you’re so old,” Kellie teased. She leaned over and shoved the brownie into his mouth. “Chocolate cures that.”

Ross choked. “Right,” he said, once he could talk.

Later, mindlessly channel surfing, Ross thought about it some more. All his life, he had drunk whole milk, full-calorie pop, had never fiddled with carbs or calories, hadn’t given a second thought to snacking at movies or while watching television – because all his life he’d been thin. Now, it seemed, he was past that period. He had no practice at watching what he ate and didn’t want to have to. Besides, life was good. He had a terrific girlfriend who was smart, great in bed, and domestically inclined. So what if he finally stopped being able to count his ribs?

Or had to go to the mall and invest in several new, larger pairs of jeans and slacks. Kellie didn’t seem to notice, or if she did notice, she didn’t mind.

“Of course you’re packing on the pounds,” he scolded himself one morning as he shaved. “Suddenly you’ve got someone cooking for you and someone to go out to dinner and brunch with. It’s about time you stopped looking unwell.” There. He nodded briskly as he wiped his face.

Then the new jeans and slacks started to shrink. Ross looked down in disbelief one Saturday morning when, on an empty stomach, he had to yank and tug and suck way in to get his jeans done up.

“Kellie? Maybe we shouldn’t go to brunch.”

“Why not?” came a sleepy voice from the bedroom. “You have something else in mind?” She padded, yawning, into the bathroom. She stretched and the little shorty robe she had tossed on gapped, revealing a lovely peach cushion of midriff.

“No. Look.” Ross tugged with difficulty at the waistband of his jeans, now snugly encircling a definite muffin top.

“Hey, no more Skeletor,” Kellie said. She leaned into him, sliding an arm around his thickening waist.

“Yeah, but why?”

“Old age,” Kellie said, yawning. “Next stop, AARP.” She went up on tiptoe and kissed him, then patted his chest. “I think it looks terrific myself. So. Brunch or no brunch?”

“Yeah, okay,” Ross said. He meant to stick with fruit and coffee, but the breads looked especially good that morning, and bread calls for butter. And they had hot apple turnovers that steamed when you broke them open with your fork. And fresh peaches. Peaches were good for you, right? Although maybe three big ones were too many on top of a stomach full of bread, turnovers, and the portions of egg, sausage, and bacon that Kellie left on her plate.

Ross hiccupped and grimaced. “Hic! Ugh. Ohh, ate too much.” His belly bulged, swollen and aching, putting a hurt on his waistband. He was drowsy, maybe a little logy, and had a new sympathy for the python.

Kellie looked at the clouds piling up. “Good day for a nap.”

And a nap it was. After preliminary activities, of course.

Ross left town the next weekend to visit his parents, but was not quite ready to introduce Kellie into the picture. Kellie didn’t protest. She was ready for a good girls’ weekend.

Over coffee, over shopping, over a chick flick, over drinks, Kellie connected with buddies and talked endlessly about Ross. She showed a cell-phone snap of him from the weekend before, beaming as the others cooed about how cute he was.

Ross was greeted at the door of his parents’ split-level house with a huge hug from his mom.

“Oh, sweetie!” she exclaimed, stepping back. “Oh, you look so good!”

“Fat, you mean,” Ross said, laughing. He patted his visibly thickening waist. “Can’t be quite so reckless with the snacking anymore, it seems.”

“Sweetie,” his mom chided. “You’d have a long way to go to be called fat. You look great. Healthy. You’ve got some color in your cheeks and you don’t look too thin. I used to worry about you.”

“Oh, and now you don’t?”

“Course I do, just now I can worry about getting you married off.”

Ross insisted on treating his parents to dinner and took them to a French restaurant where they all dipped happily into the appetizers and couldn’t say no to the dessert cart. Both Ross and his father had to let out their belts, and Ross’ mom discreetly untied and retied her wrap skirt more loosely.

“Oh, I am stuffed,” his mom exclaimed. She hiccupped.

“Three stuffed bears, that’s us,” his dad said. “All we need is Goldilocks.”

“I don’t need any porridge,” Ross grunted, massaging his aching stomach. He was thinking about Kellie.

In the end, he left sooner than he’d planned and drove straight to Kellie’s before even stopping at his apartment. She was on the sofa in pajamas surrounded by the Sunday paper. Wordlessly, he scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom.

“Ross, don’t, you’ll hurt yourself, I’m too fat,” Kellie said without thinking.

Ross lowered her onto the bed.

“You … are … gorgeous,” he growled into her ear, cuddling a breast.

Kellie shifted so she could massage his softening belly. “And so are you,” she said firmly. “Gorgeous chest … gorgeous pecs … gorgeous tummy … really gorgeous biceps….”

After that, conversation became a little superfluous.

“My turn to cook,” Ross said afterward. He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweats that were not as baggy as they had once been.

“Hey, you cook,” Kellie said happily, sitting up and brushing her tumbled hair out of the way.

“I know how to make one thing,” Ross corrected. “This is my impress-the-girl meal.”

Kellie snorted.

Ross clanked around the kitchen for a while as Kellie pulled on sweats and a cropped tee, then looked frowning down at her tummy. It didn’t used to round out like that. She sighed, then headed out to the kitchen, where she uncorked a bottle of Bordeaux.

Ross, it developed, was making creamed spinach, honeyed carrots, rolls (from a Pillsbury freezer bag), new potatoes, and steaks with sauteed onions. The kitchen smelled heavenly. Kellie leaned against the counter and drank her wine.

Then, on impulse, she crossed to Ross, choosing a moment when he wasn’t in front of the stove, and embraced him from behind.

“You look fabulously handsome of late, Dr. Martin,” she said into his shoulder blade.

“Why, thank you, Miss Peeler,” Ross responded. He turned and kissed her, then pulled back and said ruefully, “Little gut here, though.”

“Shush,” Kellie said. “I think it’s very becoming on you.”

Ross raised his eyebrows. “Ah, becoming. No one uses that word anymore. Love it. Love it. Love you.”

“And I love you,” Kellie said, just as Ross said suddenly, “Oops,” and broke free to flip the steaks.

Ross had made too much of everything, but it was so good that they both, comfortable by now in front of each other, devoured it all, and Kellie didn’t protest when Ross produced a chocolate mousse that he confessed he had made the day before.

“Mm,” Kellie mumbled with her mouth full. “I’d like to dive into a tub full of this and eat my way out.”

“Mm.” Ross seconded the idea. Then he belched. “Oh. Scuse me.” He exhaled. “Too full. Mmmm.” He rather liked being this full. It felt warm and cozy, and he enjoyed being comfortably replete, knowing that he had overeaten and feeling the heavy tug and ache of his stretched belly.

Kellie, too, looked rosy and drowsy, her rounded tummy swelling below her cropped top and looking like a peach ready for plucking. Slowly she stood and led the way to the sofa, Ross following, and they flopped down, put their feet up and simultaneously groaned.

“Oh, good stuff,” Kellie murmured. “Hic! Oh…” she yawned hugely. “Speaking of stuffed.” She slowly massaged her bared midriff. Ross watched in fascination. Her tummy was distended and firm and glowing. Swollen full of good food and wine, it seemed to appeal to all his senses at once. Gently he laid a hand atop hers and began to massage with her. She switched her hand to his own bloated and gorged belly, sliding a hand under his T-shirt. Half-asleep, needing no words, they tended to each other’s aching bellies, silently stitching a hammock of intimacy between them. In time they fell asleep, Kellie’s head on Ross’ chest, his hand still resting on her distended middle.

~*~*~

“You look different,” Ross’ vet tech said to him one Monday morning.

Ross grunted as he felt delicately around a basset hound’s bottom. “Put on some weight.”

“Looks good,” the tech, Randy, commented. “And you are in luv.”

Ross snorted. “Yup.”

“So?”

“So? She’s a very nice lady. She’s kind and smart and funny and fun to be with. End of conversation.” He straightened and peeled off his glove. “And I have to tell Mrs. Schuntzel that Dover will need surgery. These anal glands are only going to get more painful – he’s just too old to be able to discharge them anymore.”

“Oh, she’s going to love that,” Randy predicted. “You’re not going to make me tell her, will you?”

“No, I will,” Ross said. He washed his hands and straightened his tie.

As they prepped the dog for surgery, Randy eyed his boss. Dr. Martin had put on weight. His “looks good” earlier had been a little diplomatic. It did in fact look better that you could no longer count his ribs – he’d been too damn skinny – but now that Randy paid attention, he could see a spare tire that folded over Ross’ trousers whenever he bent over. And his chin kind of doubled sometimes. Randy, who had always been built solidly, didn’t care, but he wondered idly if this girlfriend of Dr. Martin’s did.

“Kellie,” Ross exclaimed that night. “This is way too much food.” The sheepish grin on his face robbed his statement of any sting.

“I like to cook,” Kellie reminded him. “I like to cook for you.”

“I like you to cook for me,” Ross countered. “But I’m turning a little doughboy here.” He patted his relentlessly thickening waist. He’d gone from a loose-fitting 30 waist to a snugly fitting 34 waist, and 36’s were in his proximate future. Kellie, meanwhile, in Ross’ view, got prettier and prettier. He encouraged the wearing of cropped tops, as they allowed access to all sorts of areas, and he found that he positively adored the muffin tops that her jeans and skirts now gave her. No wonder they were called love handles. He loved to hold her there, to cuddle her from behind and squeeze them gently, and he stood up from the table where he was waiting and did so now.

“Aah! Ross. Careful.” Kellie was spooning creamed corn into a serving dish. “Kiss the cook, yes, but not right this second. Here, you can get the butter out as penance.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ross kept watching Kellie over dinner. They had known each other for only six months, but they had been extraordinarily transformative months. He knew positively that he did not want any kind of life – any kind of daily living – without Kellie in it, and so he lifted his glass of iced tea in a toast as soon as she sat down.

“To Kellie,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Ahem. To the woman I hope will become my wife.”

Kellie was caught off guard, but only for a moment. She lifted her glass in return. “To Ross,” she said. “My husband to be.”

Then she set down her glass and caught up his hand. She swallowed hard. She looked away, then back. Her lips twitched.

“Let’s not let all this get cold.”

 

[Lardibutts]

 

[Mac5689]

 

[Risible]