# Growing Boy



## Big Beautiful Dreamer (Apr 22, 2006)

BHM, WG

*
GROWING BOY
by Big Beautiful Dreamer​*
By the time Erin Gutnecht arrived at the graduate students end-of-the-year party, it was already in full swing. The door was ajar and the music was so loud it was shaking the frame house. She went in, feeling her hair being blown back by the noise from the stereo speakers, and nabbed a spot on one end of the sagging sofa. Her guydar had already scoped out the presence of Sam Foote, the hottest guy in school.

Hey! Erins best friend, Adrianna, flopped onto the sofa next to her, causing the whole thing to shake. Whoa. Collapse imminent.

You or the sofa?

Both. Adrianna ran a hand through her short brown hair. God, Im so glad this year is over. Hey, what are you staring at?

Sam Foote.

Subtle much?

Erin blushed. Hes just  um 

The word would be hot, Adrianna replied, patting Erin on the head. Who am I to interfere with maidenly delights? Want a beer?

One. A light one, please.

You got it.

By the time Adrianna returned with the beer, Sam had gone outside for a game of team Frisbee, shirts vs. skins. Sam without his shirt on equaled hot squared, Erin thought. She hopped up onto the deck railing and settled in for a night of watching pleasure.

Periodically, sweating and out of breath, the Frisbee players trooped over to the deck to pillage the beer and pizza set out. Erin thought she might die of the proximity. As the night wore on, though, she noticed something. It was more obvious on Sam than on most of the other guys, because Sam had the most ripped figure. Model-perfect pecs pointed the way to a rock-hard six-pack, jeans loosely encircling a flat waist, sweat lazing down the path toward heaven. But Sam was downing beer and pizza as if there were no tomorrow, and darned if it wasnt starting to show. 

As Sam turned to talk to a buddy, Erin saw a cushion resting atop those defined abs. A round ball of belly gently pushed the waistband of the jeans forward at the clasp, modest love handles beginning to perch above the waist and lap around the waistband. Sams gorgeous tummy, full of beer and pizza, pouched outward, folding the waistband of his jeans under just a little.

By now Erin had moved from the deck rail to a chair, and if she kept her eyes half-closed she figured no one would notice her gazing at Sams modestly bulging stomach. Then a shout made her open her eyes.

Hey Sammy, Sams roommate, Rick, said a little thickly. Bet you cant eat the whole pizza.

Youre on, Sam said instantly, slapping his rounded belly. What do I win? Sam hadnt stinted on the beer either, Erin thought. Hed never agree to that sober. 

The other part of her mind was thinking, oh please, oh please, oh please. Erin would never in her life have identified herself as an FFA. She didnt even know the term. But her privates were involuntarily clenching with pleasure both at the sight of Sams little pizza gut and the thought of seeing it bulge even bigger. She didnt know why. She couldnt have articulated it if she tried. But she was aroused, no question.

Tuhhhn . Twuhh . Twenty bucks, Rick managed, waving it in the air like a trophy. But you have to do it in ten minutes.

On your mark, somebody said. Get set. Go!

Go, go, go, go, the spectators chanted as Sam grabbed the first slice. By now it was stone cold, so he could shove it down as fast as he wanted. Bite bite bite bite  the first slice was history. Then a second. Then a third. After five slices, though, trouble loomed. Sam hiccupped loudly and pressed a hand to his midriff. He was already bringing a tummy full of pizza and beer to this challenge, and it was clear he was stuffed. He belched loudly, prompting cheers and catcalls. Another graceless belch and he soldiered on. Six. Seven. By now Sam was looking a little green. He was shaking his head weakly back and forth, and his free hand clutched his swollen belly, by now pooching over his waistband. Sweat trickled down his temples. 

Do it  do it  the crowd chanted. Sam was clearly slowing down. Mouth full, he winced and grabbed his aching belly. Finally, he shoved the last crumbs in, tipping his head back and gulping the beer someone pressed into his hand. Cheers erupted as Sam, recovering, held the empty cup high and whipped it into the yard.

Dag, man, that was like Cool Hand Luke, Rick said, eyes wide. He shoved the twenty into Sams back pocket. You gonna blow? 

Sam shook his head weakly, but he was cradling his bloated belly. Stuffed full of pizza, beer-sodden stomach sloshing, he leaned heavily on Rick, staggering as Rick guided him toward the door and across the street to the house they shared with a couple of med students.

Erin waited a decent interval before leaving herself. When she got home, she discovered that her underwear had a telltale damp spot on it. Her whole body was on edge. Waiting to fall asleep, she closed her eyes and imagined the evening, Sams ripped abs turning into a rounded belly again and again.

It was after 11 by the time Erin woke up the next day. Throwing on some clothes, she drove downtown and shuffled into a coffee shop. Not fully awake, she bumped into the person ahead of her in line.

Sorry, she mumbled.

Hey! Some party last night, huh?

Erin blinked. Sam Foote. She blinked several times to keep her eyes from zeroing in on his belly, but a quick glance told her that hed shaken off the effects of the night before. Even under a shirt, the taut abs were clearly visible.

Hey, you know what? Sam continued. Forget this line. Im hungry. Want to go down the street and get some Chinese?

Holy cow, Erin thought, Sam Foote is talking to me. Sure, she managed.

Order placed, Sam leaned in, raising his eyebrows. Did you see me chow that pizza last night?

I think so, Erin fibbed. 

Sam shook his head. I was pretty plowed, he admitted. But you know what? I was stuffed to the gills by the time I got it all down. My stomach really ached. But the thing was, at the same time it felt  good. I was really enjoying being so full.

What? Erin pretended to be puzzled. And while part of her was puzzled, part of her felt herself aroused at the memory. What was it that had been such a turn-on? Weird, Erin thought. If it was Sams solid pecs and ripped abs that attracted her, why did the temporary destruction of those abs make her so aroused?

I know, Sam said, shaking his head again. My gut was busted, big time. It hurt. But it felt kind of good to be that stuffed. He grinned crookedly. Whatever. Schools out; Im not about to sit around analyzing it, right?

Right, Erin echoed as the food arrived. Sam managed all of his Five Spice Chicken and about half the rice before shoving his plate aside. Enough. Im full. 

Not wanting to pig out in front of a guy, Erin had eaten more pickily and had about half of her chicken and broccoli left. Me, too, she added quickly.

Want to go for a walk around the pond? Sam asked, dropping a twenty on the table and standing up, not waiting for change.

Sure, Erin said, hoping Sam couldnt hear her heart pounding.

As they strolled, they talked, learning more about each other than they had all year. Whenever they passed a fitness break station, Sam did whatever the sign advised: lunges, squats, pull-ups. Im kind of a fitness dork, he admitted. Like to work out.

Nothing wrong with that, Erin said, blushing.

At the end of the walk, they ended up back at her car. Uncharacteristically, Sam seemed tongue-tied. Finally, staring at the sidewalk, he said, Ive got an internship in Cleveland for three months. Starting next week. After that, I want to come back here and find work. Do you want to  like, e-mail each other? He looked up, his cheeks flushed.

Um  okay, Erin said, trying not to sound too eager.

Great. He fished out a crumpled ATM receipt and a leaky pen and scribbled out an e-mail address. Ill, um, be seeing you around, he said. He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then loped around the corner.


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## Big Beautiful Dreamer (Apr 22, 2006)

The summer unfolded. Erin sweated through the summer teaching summer-school seventh-grade language arts and hating it, but it was a job. She and Sam e-mailed each other, at first once every 10 days or so, then every week, then every day. Little stuff, thoughtful discussions, good-spirited debates. 

Ill be back in town on the 23rd, Sam e-mailed in mid-August. Know of any good (cheap) apartments? Ive got a job doing research for Pharmalabs. Preferably near the gym. I havent had the energy to work out all summer. When does your job start? 

Erin had snagged a job teaching tenth-grade Composition & Literature and eleventh-grade English at the local high school. 

Not until the 25th, Erin wrote back. Students report September 5th. As for apartment, if your salary is decent, if you wanted to room together, we could afford one of those new apts on Washington St. near the Y. Its close to the school and not too far from Pharmalabs. Right?? 

She purposely wrote room together to make it seem un-intimidating. As she re-read and re-read his e-mail, though, one sentence seemed to stand out as if in all caps. I havent had the energy to work out all summer. 

Her stomach did a little flip-flop thinking of Sams firm abs softening, his flat waistline thickening, his loose jeans becoming snug. What was the matter with her? She had a guy most women would kill for and all she could do was get herself turned on imaging him  fat.

Cool, Sam wrote back. I could swing $700 a month for rent plus ½ utilities, etc. How much can you afford?

About $400 would be ideal, and I think those new places are between $875 and $1200 a month, Erin wrote. She paused, minimized the e-mail box and looked the apartments up, then added, Says we can get a two-bedroom with a sunny dining nook, bay window, storage space, spacious balcony, 1 ½ bath, garden tub, hardwood floors for $975. If you want, I can check it out tomorrow.

The next day, all her e-mail said was, Send $735 for your ½ of deposit ASAP.

Then: We have an apartment! Hurry home  dear.

Erin was on the spacious balcony waiting for Sam when his battered pickup truck chugged up towing a small U-Haul. She watched, holding her breath, as the truck stopped and Sam got out and came around the front of the truck to the sidewalk. Holy crow. Sam had definitely put on some weight. Erins underwear instantly dampened. Distracted, she was startled by the rat-a-tat-tat on the door. 

Hey! Sam greeted her with a hug and a long kiss.

Honey, she managed, coming up for air, inside. The neighbors

Screw the neighbors, Sams voice was muffled because his lips were on hers again.

No, thank you, Erin said firmly, pulling back. Id rather  um, never mind!

Laughing, Sam let go and followed Erin into their new apartment. Inside, getting her first good look at him, she could see that she was right. Those rock-solid pecs were definitely flaccid, the muscled six-pack far less defined. Love handles perched above a snug waistband and lapped over, and a cushion of padding rested atop those luscious abs. Where once there was a straight vertical drop from pecs to belt, the path now curved outward as it descended to a spare tire. The waistband of his jeans squeezed against new flesh. From crotch up to button, the denim curved upward like the bottom half of an egg, zipper spread flat across a newly expanded stomach.

Oddly, instead of being disgusted, Erin was seriously turned on. She could feel a flush start in her privates and spread upward. Her nipples jumped to attention, and her underwear dampened. 

Sam caught her gaze and slapped his burgeoning midriff. Yeah, put on some weight, he admitted. I worked such long hours I just didnt have the time or the energy to work out  and I ate a lot of takeout. He hiked up his jeans, trying to rearrange the waistband for comfort. Now that Im back here Ill get rid of this belly.

No, dont, Erin wanted to say, but that would sound just too culturally weird. Instead, she embraced him, snuggling herself against his softened belly and chest. I think you look fabulous, she said, her voice muffled against his pecs. Sexy and comfy and very, very handsome.

Sam dropped a kiss on her head. Thanks, he said. I am getting a little tubby, though.

Erin slid a hand along his side, resting it on a love handle. Not tubby, she said. Just right.

Sam pulled back and gave her a skeptical look. Just then, the stomach in question growled audibly, making them both laugh.

Ill call for pizza, Erin suggested.

Just one, Sam said. Dont want to be too tempted. 

While they waited for the pizza, Erin and Sam hauled his stuff in. Despite his added pounds, Sam was still pretty strong, and they managed all right, though both were sweaty and exhausted by the time the U-Haul was emptied. Sam drove over to return it to the rental place, and when he got back, Erin had set the table and laid out the pizza, a single slice and a salad at her place, three big slices and a salad and a beer at his.

Hey, thats too much, Sam immediately protested as he sat.

Well, Erin said, picking up her fork, just eat what you want and put the rest back in the box.

Thirstily, Sam drained half his beer at once, then picked up a hot slice. He was hungrier than he realized, and the first two slices vanished in a heartbeat. On his second beer, he paused, resting a hand on his belly. I should quit, he said, stifling a belch.

Oh, go on, Erin urged him. Youve earned it.

Turning into a real fatty here, though, he said, regret plain in his voice.

Honey, Erin said. She got up and stood behind his chair, letting her hands slide over his pecs and down to his bloated belly, already firm and full of pizza. I keep telling you, youre more handsome than ever. I think you look good with a little more on you. Gently, steadily, she massaged his midriff.

Sam paused. His stomach was full to bursting, but what Erin was doing felt really good. Slice in hand, he stayed unmoving for a long minute, enjoying the sensation. At last, he unfroze and chomped down on the slice of pizza, enjoying the cheesy, greasy, meaty, spicy mouthful. 

Erin continued to massage Sams belly, and without realizing it Sam ate a fourth slice, then a fifth. Three beers were now history. Finally, he stopped, but only because the pizza was now gone. Pushing back his chair with a grunt of effort, he stood, groaning and stretching.

Oof, he moaned. (Urp!) Ate too much. He stumbled over to the sofa and flopped onto it, putting his feet up. He unbuckled his belt, loosening it not one but two notches, and unbuttoned his jeans. He belched again and slid his hand down the front of his pants. Whoo (hic!), he managed, short of breath. 

Erin, curled up beside him, gently rubbed his distended midsection. Stretched tight as a drum, it strained the thin cloth of his T shirt, sagging heavily into the space newly created by the undone button. 

Sams eyelids fluttered, then closed. His hand drifted south from chest to aching belly. The skin was taut and the abdomen underneath it hard as a rock. Teasingly, Erin caught up his hand. Manipulating his fingers, she made him poke his firm, protruding tummy. Ooh, she crooned in baby talk. Someones got a full tummy. Does oo need a burpie?

To Erins delight, Sam responded. Baby full. Baby wants a (hic!) tummy rub.

Let Mommy make baby all better, Erin cooed. Massaging, poking and occasionally pinching, Erin explored Sams new real estate. Pendulous and firm, his bloated stomach sloshed heavily under her fingers. 

Come on, she coaxed. Give Mommy a burpie.

After a few false starts, Sam belched. Good boy! Erin said, patting Sams protruding stomach. Sam belched again, looking pleased.

Sleepy? Erin asked, in a normal voice.

Yeah (urp), Sam admitted. Struggling up, he scooped Erin into a hug. Lets go to bed.

The next day, they both hopped out of bed at first light and worked all day unpacking. Busy, on a roll, neither stopped to eat anything until nearly dark, when they were both suddenly starved. Erin dished up spaghetti, piling far more on Sams plate than on her own.

Hey, Sam protested, but Erin shushed him. Baby needs oo clean his plate, she cooed.

Sam frowned. I dont know, honey, he said. He laid a hand on his midsection.

Erin, sensing his concern, laid down her fork. Sam, she said, I want to tell you something.

She told him how shed watched him at the party in May, how turned on it had made her feel to watch his belly bulge. How her heart skipped a beat when she saw him get out of the truck. How aroused she was taking him in her arms and feeling his softened curves. I dont know why, she concluded. It just makes me wild.

But if I keep pigging out, Sam pointed out, Ill be big as a house. He frowned. I used to be so in shape. Seems like I lost my abs like that, snapping his fingers.

I know, Erin said soothingly. But I really, really like what Im seeing.

Do you want me to get even fatter, though?

Mm, good point, Erin said thoughtfully. You know, were near the Y. What if we both joined and, you know, biked and swam and did weights  to stay healthy  and you just ate as much as you wanted?

She coaxed him: Didnt it feel kind of good to be that stuffed?

Sam raised his eyebrows. Yeah  kind of 

Then, Erin said, using baby talk again, Mommy wants to see Baby clean his plate.

Sam picked up his fork. 
* * *
ONE YEAR LATER
* * *
Whoo (hic!)  whoo, Sam exhaled, pushing his chair back. He gave his hugely bulging belly a resounding slap, producing a hollow thump. Full of a mountain of spaghetti and meatballs and most of a loaf of garlic bread, his stomach was stretched tight, protruding outward in a smooth curving bulge and sagging heavily onto his lap. 

Erin came around behind his chair, sliding her hands down over his flaccid chest to his arc of a midsection. Gently, she patted and poked his abdomen, which didnt have much give to it.

Help me up (hic!), Sam said. He put his hands on the table and braced himself, pushing up. Erin put her hands under his arms and pushed. On his feet, Sam slowly got turned around and waddled toward the sofa. A year had made a big difference. The firm pecs, ripped abs and flat waist were gone, replaced by a soft, spreading chest, spare tire and convex abdomen. 

Usually his gut fell softly downward, melting into his love handles and flopping over his belt. Stuffed full of dinner, however, his tummy was resplendently taut, jeans long since undone, the button and buttonhole separated by seeming acres of midriff, shirt creeping upward to reveal a bare gleaming gut.

Sinking onto the sofa, Sam patted the space next to him. Erin snuggled up, resting her head on the pillows of his chest.

Erin, Sam murmured into her hair, You never cease to amaze me. You make me happier than I ever imagined I could be. He pulled back so he could look her in the eye. Erin Gutnecht, will you marry me?

Erin gave Sam a long slow look that traveled from his plump face down to his swollen midsection. She closed her eyes and thought back on his once-firm abs, the formerly flat waist now lusciously soft and folded over his stretched waistband. 

Opening her eyes, she let her gaze met Sams. Sam Foote, she said firmly, I will.


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## herin (Apr 22, 2006)

That was a great story! I loved it!!:wubu:


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## zonker (Apr 24, 2006)

Once again, a great story! I think you must have the same muse as Charissa has...your stories are every bit as delicious as her! Thanks again for sharing.


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## lizzy (Apr 29, 2006)

Another good story. It sounds as if you have some personal experience being stuffed.


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