The Coopers' Kitchen - by Big Beautiful Dreamer (~BHM, Eating, Romance, ~SWG )

[Big Beautiful Dreamer]

~BHM, Eating, Romance, ~SWG - in which an understanding FFA does some tactful BHM belly worship

THE COOPER'S KITCHEN
by Big Beautiful Dreamer​

Kyle’s sigh was so heavy it almost lifted the car as he pulled into Suzanne’s parents’ driveway and cut the motor. “Tell me again why we have to stay here a week,” he grumbled.

Suzanne patted his knee. “Because,” she said for the tenth time, “they only see me twice a year.”

Kyle closed his eyes. “Fine,” he sighed. What else was he going to say? He popped the trunk and got out. He heaved their bags out of the trunk as the door to the house opened and Suzanne’s dad leaned out and waved.

Roger Cooper was 55, a college professor with thinning gray hair and bifocals. “Welcome, welcome,” he said expansively as he hurried to help Kyle with the bags. He gave Suzanne a hug and Kyle a hearty handshake and a smile.

After some awkward conversation, Kyle and Roger settled in to watch a football game on television as the women chatted in the kitchen. Thanksgiving was six days away.

Invading the women’s turf to get a beer, Kyle indulged himself with a good look at Suzanne’s rear as she stood at the sink chopping tomatoes. The rear in question was luscious: modestly sized, yet enticingly curved, it balanced her trim waist and neat chest with perky, perfect-handful breasts. The slacks hugged her waist and hips and flared below the knees; her soft sweater highlighted her slender arms and shoulder blades. Kyle swallowed hard and tugged at his waistband, hoping to quell an incipient erection.

He inhaled and opened the fridge, taking longer than usual to get the beer. The cold air and change of scene got him back under control, and he failed to notice that the tug at the waistband had also relieved an as-yet-undetected snugness.

Dinner was lasagna with homemade tomato sauce, a huge salad and heaping bowl of buttery garlic bread, with plenty of iced tea. Kyle had never tasted lasagna so good before. He quickly cleaned his plate, and the salad that followed was unusually good as well, crisp lettuce, a light vinaigrette, grape tomatoes, mushrooms, sunflower seeds. He gladly assented to seconds, and helped himself to a couple of thick slices of bread.

The food was so good, he scarcely noticed how stuffed he was becoming. Gradually, though, he could not fail to notice. His belly swelled with every bite, pressing painfully against his belt and bulging heavily below the waist as well. He loosened his belt a notch as he continued to enjoy the generous second helping of lasagna. Or was it his third?

The evening spun itself out lazily and Kyle didn’t even remembering loosening his belt another notch. His tummy was stretched to bursting and ached painfully. He took one final swallow of icy cold tea and with difficulty stifled a huge belch. His stomach sagged heavily, laden with food, and his pants were straining their seams. He longed to take off the suddenly snug jeans; surely it would become easier to breathe. He found that it was less uncomfortable to breathe through his mouth at the moment, but his bloated and aching belly was so full that breathing was a challenge regardless of how the air got in.

“Thank you … Carol,” he managed to say to Suzanne’s mom. “That was … (hic!) … delicious.” Inadvertently he pressed a hand to his sagging gut as the hiccup escaped amid laughter.

Carol Cooper beamed. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it, Kyle,” she said. Kyle stood, wincing as his stomach sloshed heavily. He wobbled over to an easy chair in the living room, managed to discreetly undo his jeans, and to the accompaniment of a hockey game, half-dozed as he slowly and steadily digested the huge dinner.

In the morning, Kyle layered on sweatpants, a T shirt, a sleeveless sweatshirt, and a knitted cap, and went running. He ran a mile and a half to a nearby park, then sat to rest on a bench. He pulled off the knit cap and mopped his face, drank from the fountain, and stretched before running back home.

He completed the three miles in about 45 minutes, a little over his usual pace, but still a good run. Back at the house, he finished his workout with situps, pushups, and squats. By the time Suzanne woke, Kyle was coming out of the shower. He looked good, a trickle of water lazing between his pecs and down to his belly button, which punctuated a very slightly softened midriff.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully.

“Mmm,” Suzanne murmured. He kissed her ear.

“I smell coffee,” he said temptingly.

“Mmm,” Suzanne replied, but she got up and stretched. She put her walking workout tape in the VCR attached to the small TV in the guest room and walked along with Leslie for 30 minutes while Kyle flipped through a paperback copy of “Hawaii” on the night table. Finished, Suzanne tugged at Kyle’s arm, leading him down to breakfast.

After the big production of dinner the night before, Kyle expected breakfast to be lighter, and it was, but there was still plenty there. Kyle ate two bowl of cereal, three bagel halves with jam, three slices of thick bacon and a bowl of peach slices, as well as two cups of coffee with rich cream.

Whew. He was stuffed. The waistband of his sweatpants was stretched tight in an effort to cover his bloated belly, aching and tight. Thank God he’d worked out, he thought. He didn’t mind a gain of a few pounds so long as he stayed active. And it looked as though over the course of a week he would indeed be gaining a few pounds.


Breakfast over, he stood and stretched, unthinkingly patting his full stomach, producing a hollow thump. Suzanne came up behind him and hugged him, teasingly poking at that swollen tummy. Her eyes widened at how little give there was to his waistline.

“Ready for a nap?” she whispered in his ear, guiding his hand to parts south. Kyle was startled at how quickly his body responded.

In the bedroom, though, once undressed, he lay back and thumped his sternum to bring up a loud belch. “Scuse me,” he mumbled.

Suzanne snuggled up against his chest, stroking his bulging belly.

“Ow,” he groaned. “Suze, don’t, I’m (urp) too full….” his protest trailed off as Suzanne moved her hand below his belly. Somehow being too full didn’t matter. At least not now.

As Kyle could have guessed, every meal followed the same pattern. Kyle kept his sanity with his rigorous morning workouts; nonetheless, stuffing himself to bursting three times a day was taking a toll on his trim waistline. Which was no longer quite as trim. There wasn’t a scale handy, but Kyle could tell he was putting on weight. His waistline was slowly but steadily thickening, the seeds of a pot belly had been planted, and his chest was not quite as firm. The waistbands of his pants were getting noticeably snug.

On the other hand, exercise kept him mobile and his muscles firm. And Suzanne certainly kept him active in bed.

Still, as Thanksgiving Day dawned, Kyle noticed with some dismay that the jeans he buttoned up were rather snug. After some debate with himself, he left his turtleneck untucked. As he threaded the belt through the loops, he noticed that the notch at which he fastened it was one away from where it had been a week ago, and even that was starting to pinch.

The meal was everything Kyle had come to expect from Carol Cooper’s kitchen. Every inch of the table was covered with bowls of steaming homemade food, and it smelled delicious. Kyle heaped his plate and happily dug in. The family had been joined that day by Suzanne’s brothers and her one sister-in-law, who was three months pregnant.

The conversation was lively and the meal relaxed. Dishes were handed round and round. Kyle emptied his plate in record time and piled it high again, pausing only briefly to loosen his belt a notch. His belly swelled outward and began to press heavily against his jeans. Kyle stifled a belch and glanced at Suzanne, who was also enjoying her meal.

He loosened his belt another notch. He was getting pretty stuffed, but it was all so good he didn’t want to slow down. He exhaled slowly and took a gulp of iced tea. He discreetly pressed a hand to his bulging tummy. Ohh, was he full. He should really stop eating. But the food was so good. He glanced at Suzanne. She didn’t seem to be slowing down.

He swallowed some more iced tea and pressed a hand to his belly again, creating a small belch. Ah, well, why not? He loaded his plate again.

By the time the meal finally ended, Kyle had eaten so much he didn’t think he would ever move again. He had a monster stomach ache and his belly was taut and sore. He was so stuffed that it hurt to breathe, and he suspected the groaning and sloshing of his overloaded stomach was audible. If it was, though, no one seemed to notice. Everyone at the table was slowly, slowly getting to their feet, leaning on the table for support and cradling bloated and sagging bellies.

“Oof, I really overate,” Roger murmured unnecessarily. He patted his stomach, straining beneath his sport shirt.

Suzanne’s brother Evan belched, then blushed. “Whups, me too,” he said, smiling sheepishly.

“Woof,” Suzanne’s brother Brian contributed. He pressed a hand to his belly and winced, then stifled a belch.

Kyle was resting his arm on Suzanne’s shoulders, as much for support as affection. He hiccupped. “Pretty stuffed,” he said, which was an understatement. Stuffed? He was full up to the brim, he thought. The only thing he wanted now was a nap.

“Maybe it’s nap time,” Carol said, laughing at her men, reading Kyle’s mind. A chorus of grunted assent was the reply. Suzanne helped Kyle down the hall to their room, which was good, because he was really too stuffed to walk.

In the bedroom, Kyle groaned in discomfort as Suzanne eased his jeans off, then the underwear. The turtleneck was plastered to Kyle’s roundly swollen gut, but once Suzanne got it off, Kyle carefully laid down on his back. His grunts of effort became moans of relief as Suzanne, murmuring affectionately, massaged his stomach.

“Man, am I full (hic!),” Kyle mumbled. “I keep this up I’ll be a real fatty.”

“Pssh, now’s not the time to worry about it,” Suzanne said. “You work out like a demon. You’ve got muscles to die for. And besides,” her fingers tripped down the curve of his tummy, “Christmas is coming up.”

Kyle found himself grinning.

Back home was another story. They arrived late and flopped into bed without even thinking about unpacking. The next morning, Kyle stood, stretched, scrubbed his tousled hair with his hands, and padded determinedly toward the scale. Up he got, and the needle spun.

“What’s the verdict?” Suzanne called from the bed.

“Um, 190,” Kyle replied. “Up ten pounds.”

He heard a snort from the next room. “You baby, you were worried.”

Kyle reappeared in the doorway, hiking his T shirt up. “Ten pounds isn’t a lot, maybe, but it’s ten pounds.” He rubbed at his midsection tentatively, exploring the baby pot belly that was beginning to take up residence.

“I think it’s cute,” Suzanne exclaimed.

“Cute?” That wasn’t the word that would have come to Kyle’s mind.

“Yeah. Cute.” Suzanne sidled up behind him and patted it. “Very cute.”

Kyle snorted. Then he got dressed in his workout gear and went for a run.
After the workout, he had a bagel and headed for his studio. Today was Monday, a glazing and firing day.

Dinner, though, was a surprise. Suzanne must have caught something from being around her mom for a week, for on the table was that homemade lasagna, a loaf of buttery garlic bread, and a huge salad. The lasagna looked and smelled like Carol Cooper’s recipe. Kyle’s eyes widened, a move that did not go unnoticed by Suzanne.

“Hungry?” she purred.

Kyle’s stomach growled loudly. He sat, his thoughts a jumble of emotions. If he ate like this regularly, even his faithful workouts would help him stay in shape, but he would gain weight. On the other hand, Suzanne didn’t seem to mind. By the time his muddled brain had decided that it would be all right to eat, he was halfway through his first big helping of lasagna. That was followed by a big serving of salad, several slices of bread, and some more lasagna. Suzanne offered apple pie, but Kyle shook his head. It smelled wonderful, but he was stuffed to bursting. His tummy strained his shirt and threatened to pop open his jeans.

“Later, maybe (hic!)” he managed, and wobbled over to the sofa, where he sank into it gratefully and undid his jeans. He belched and began gently rubbing his swollen and aching gut. Suzanne appeared beside him and took over the job, and it felt so good.

“Suze,” he mumbled.

“Mmm.”

“I keep eating like this, I’m going to put on some serious weight.” He patted his belly, tight as a drum. Suzanne patted it too.

“So why would that be a bad thing?”

“Duh, because I’ll get fat,” he said dryly.

“I think you look very, very sexy with a little more belly on you.”

“Um. Really?”

“Um. Really,” she said, and set about proving it. The apple pie was forgotten, although it made a nice addition to the next day’s breakfast.

Over time, the baby pot belly begun at Suzanne’s parents’ house grew up to be a handsome, full-size pot belly, curving smoothly from pecs to below the belly button. Kyle’s weight settled around 240 … for a time … but now that Suzanne is pregnant, well, eating for two can be a team sport.

 

[zonker]

 

[beginner_belly]