# Nothin' Says Lovin' Like Something from the Oven (~WG, ~Feeding, ~BHM, ~BBW, ~Mutual)



## wafflecone (Jun 18, 2013)

Feeding, ~BHM/~BBW, feeding, ~MWG 

*Author's Note*: This is my first WG story! Let me know how I did. 

*Nothin' Says Lovin' Like Something from the Oven
by Wafflecone*​
*Part I*

It was the first course of a meal that could only be described as “monumental.” It was a first date, and Melanie was looking to impress her new conquest. His name was Magnus Williams, and he was beautiful.

He was a big man, standing at over six feet--somewhere between 6’3” and 6’4” was Melanie’s guess. He had broad, sturdy shoulders, long arms that looked like they would have no trouble taking down a bear, and an almost perfectly v-shaped torso. Melanie’s guess was that he was somewhere over two hundred pounds, though with his height it was difficult to tell. Magnus had an excellent smile. It stretched wide over his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. A smile you could trust. 

He was unfailingly polite when he walked in the door in a very classy black sports jacket, blue dress shirt, and tie. Fitted beige dress pants and very nice, clearly expensive dress shoes completed the look. After cooing over how nice he looked, Melanie told him to relax in the living room, but he shook his head. “I can’t let you do all the work by yourself! Either let me help, or at least let me keep you company.” 

She smiled and had him follow her to the kitchen and had him sit down at the island on one of the barstools. There were several plates of h’ors d’oeuvres, piled high. Home-baked fresh bread, of course, with a plate of olive oil and vinegar to dip it in. There was a bowl of olives and another bowl of bocconcini: balls of mozzarella with red pepper and herbs floating in olive oil. There was another plate of bacon-wrapped water chestnuts. Magnus tried everything with enthusiasm. 

“This could be dinner right here!” he exclaimed. As he nibbled, he extolled the virtues of Melanie’s cooking. 

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!” she replied as she darted around the kitchen, dropping salt and herbs into this or that pot, opening the oven to check on a dish, rifling through cabinets for stray ingredients, all the time keeping up a fantastic, intelligent conversation on modern film, both domestic and foreign.

Magnus watched appreciatively. Melanie was 5’4” and he guessed she was around a buck eighty. There was not a single part of her that was angular. Bones and muscle were subsumed in a layer of plush that not a single person who had tasted her bacon-wrapped water chestnuts could fault her for. She did not dress to hide this fact. In fact, she was in a curve-hugging purple silk wiggle dress that accentuated her hourglass shape. 

The swell of her stomach was celebrated, rather than hidden, her bust clearly on display, but modestly. Her legs were shown to their best advantage with her feet in perfectly matched purple wedges. As Magnus observed the sway of her hips as she moved with the grace that came of experience and comfort in her space, he took an olive oil-smothered bite of bread, sighing. “Delicious.”

Twenty minutes later, Melanie sat Magnus down in the dining room. It was a smaller table, and the lighting was dimmed--much more intimate than the strong lighting of the kitchen. The candles were lit and rivulets of wax had already dripped down their sides, giving the currently empty table an air of expectancy. 

Melanie exited and returned moments later with soup, setting one bowl down in front of Magnus before placing another in front of her own place setting at the opposite side of the square table. “This is beer cheese soup. My mom was from Wisconsin and used to make it all the time. It really never gets old.” 

She smiled and took her first spoonful. 

“Beer cheese soup? Melanie, you said you were making a five-course meal, but I don’t know how I’m going to be able to stop eating anything that has both beer and cheese in its name.” 

He noted the popcorn garnish on top. It looked very elegant, which was a nod to Melanie’s plating skills, but it brought an air of comfort and casualness to the meal. Magnus took a spoonful and was immediately lost in the flavor. It was buttery and cheesy and spicy, with the tang of the beer tossed in for good measure. “This is excellent.”

Melanie smiled knowingly. As she ate and talked with him about the books that the San Francisco literati had been putting out lately--“I mean, I read them, and the writing is very good in its way, but that self-deprecating, stream-of consciousness style that Dave Eggers and Stephen Elliot and all of them do just really isn’t my thing.”

She watched him closely. He ate with gusto, not even attempting to hide his appetite. It was as if he hadn’t eaten in days, much less polished off the majority of the h’ors d’oeuvres by himself, which had been in amounts large enough to feed a party of five. In fact, he even asked for seconds. The chef in her wanted to deny him, knowing that there were still four courses to go, but the part of her that wanted to see him full to bursting and waddling back to his car by evening's end was much louder and very much in favor of feeding him as much as he wanted. 

She took his plate and returned with a full one, removing her own plate and giving it a quick rinse before setting it in the dishwasher. She brought him his second plate and set it down. "There's still a few bowls left in the pot. Would you like me to pack it up for you before you leave?"

Magnus nodded. "How could I say no? It's divine!" The smile on Melanie's face was worth his saying yes, even if the soup turned out not to microwave well (which, in fact, it would).

As she left the room, Magnus watched her walk into the kitchen doorway, her long curly blonde hair haloing her. She did not look like an angel--she was far too lush for that. But a devil didn't fit her, either--she was too sweet. She was more like a muse, tempting and encouraging and looking perfectly ethereal and tempting herself all the while. He heard her moving around the kitchen and took a few moments to imagine unzipping that silky dress, watching it slide to the floor, glowingly pale curves coming into view--

But then she was back, this time carrying small, circular trays stacked on top of each other. 

“Is that--is that dim sum?” he asked incredulously. Beer cheese soup was one thing, but homemade dim sum? That was to die for. 

“It is!” she said excitedly as she opened the top of the stainless steel steamer baskets. “My personal favorite: cha siu biao. Nothing better than barbecue pork buns.”

Magnus agreed. Pork buns were always at the top of his list when he went to get dim sum. He’d never heard of anyone having it outside of a restaurant, and he was thoroughly impressed. 

“Be right back.” She popped out again and he took in the smells. These were worth the price of admission. When Melanie returned, it was with a tray holding two small plates, a decanter of white wine, as well as two glasses and a bottle of sparkling water. She set the tray down and began spreading everything out on the table. As she poured some of the sparkling water into Magnus’ glass, he felt that he could get used to this sort of treatment. 

She poured water for herself and then sat down. She took a sip. “Drink a little. I know most people don’t like sparkling water, but it’s a fantastic palate cleanser, which you really do need after a soup like that.” 

She poured herself a glass of wine and gestured for him to do the same. As he poured, she placed one bun on her plate and cut it delicately into fourths with her silverware, chewing happily once the food made it to her mouth.

Magnus took his time with his bun. He wasn’t quite full, but he sensed that perhaps seconds on the soup had been a bad move. This was only the second course, after all, and pork buns were filling. He took one and at it just as she had. They talked about gaming, going from video games to tabletop games, sharing tales of friendships nearly broken during Monopoly, fantastic wins in Settlers of Catan, and glorious battles in Shadowrun. Soon enough, the three trays of pork buns were gone. At four buns per tray, that made twelve buns--nine of which had been consumed by Magnus, along with more of the wine.

Melanie cleared the table of plates and wine and returned with small bowls of sorbet. “It’s lime. I made it myself. This is only the fourth time I’ve tried this recipe, and it came out funny the last few times, but I think I got it.” 

She took a bite and purred. “Oooh, I did get it right!” 

She took another bite. “I got it really right. Mm!” 

Magnus, who was almost full, was not sure if he should finish all of his sorbet. Once he took the first bite, he was not sure if he would be able to slow down enough while eating it to be polite. Like everything else, it was fabulous. 

Once they were finished, the table was cleared again, and this time Melanie returned with a tray with two bowls of salad and a decanter of white wine. The salad, upon closer inspection, was filled with candied nuts (Magnus was sure that they did not come from the store), thin apple slices, dried cranberries, and an absolutely gargantuan strawberry on top of both salads. 

“This dish is a little more simple. I thought about doing something more complex with meat or fish, but I thought something a little more understated would be better.”

“There hasn’t been a single simple dish tonight, Mel. Next I know you’re going to tell me you grew all of this yourself.” 

Melanie’s quick blush and small smile revealed that he was, in fact, correct. “Not only are you intelligent and a fantastic cook--you garden, too?”

“Just a little here and there. We always had one when I was a kid, and with all the pesticides and genetic engineering today I just feel like it’s safer.”

“Wow.”

Melanie started on her salad, then asked, “So, Magnus, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m in marketing.” That was putting it mildly--he was the head of one of the best-known marketing firms in the country, perhaps the world. 

“Tell me what that’s like.” As he talked about focus groups, analyzing research, working with graphic designers, and picky clients, Melanie listened intently. Magnus, as he was talking, was surprised. While he found his job very interesting and rewarding, few others did, and it was rare he found someone who understood his interest. It was even rarer for the interested party to be an intelligent, beautiful woman. 

When the salads and white wine were finished, they were soon replaced by beef bourguignon, a loaf of homemade bread, soft butter, and a decanter of red wine. Conversation slowed during this course, with Melanie discussing the books she had been copy-editing for work recently. Halfway through his immense plate, Magnus could feel fullness pressing against his insides. He ate slowly, but with purpose. 

Melanie could feel herself growing warm as she watched him. He would cut a large slice of bread, butter it, take a bite, and then dip it into the stew, reveling in the meaty, wine-drenched flavor. He talked a little, but mostly let Melanie keep the conversation going, as though his only purpose in life was eating this bowl of stew. He finished a glass of wine, and another, and he felt himself loosening a little, felt that he would be able to eat more. 

The beef was perfectly cooked, soft and melting on his tongue. Slice after slice of bread slathered with butter went down his gullet, swelling his stomach. When he finished the bowl, he sat back. His normally flat stomach was bowed out, the buttons of his fitted shirt looking ever so slightly strained. His belt was uncomfortable, but he felt there was nothing for it but to try and sit comfortably. He did his best to breathe normally, adjusting himself so he was sitting with his legs wide, leaning back in his chair to give his stomach as much room as it needed. 

Discreetly, he rubbed his swollen belly. The mild discomfort, though, was nothing to the warm feeling emanating from his engorged gut. He talked with Melanie about this and that, but he was halfway to heaven. He had never been fed so expertly in his life, and as he looked at the plump, smiling woman across the table from him, he sensed he would never find anyone who could feed him even half as well.

Melanie was all aflutter. She had brought many men to her table, and though some of them had been invited back a few more times, none had truly gobsmacked her with their appetite and willingness to eat whatever was placed in front of him. Never had a man asked for seconds, though many had looked like they wanted to. Never had a man looked so gloriously stuffed. 

She wanted nothing more than to move her seat next to him, undo his belt, pants, and his shirt buttons, push his jacket to the side, and run her hands over the tiny mound making itself known, massaging it until he was comfortable. 

It being the first date, however, she was worried about taking such a liberty. Instead, she took both of their bowls back into the kitchen and refilled them. Hers only had half a ladlefull in it, and it was mostly broth. His bowl, on the other hand, contained at least a half pound of meat, probably more, along with plenty of onions, carrots, shallots, and mushrooms. It was a full meal in itself. She put the bowls down and continued their conversation, pouring herself another glass of wine. It was a clear challenge, and she wanted to see if he was up to it.

Magnus, for a moment, was not sure if he could do it. He was already so full, and he could only imagine what another bowl would do to him. He was a big eater, but overindulgence on this scale was something with which he was unfamiliar. Even on holidays he hadn’t been tempted the way he was now. But something in Melanie’s eyes told him he could do it. And with the way she was looking at him over her wineglass--that tiny curving upward of her full lips, that ever-so-slight tilt of the head. This look told him that his efforts would be rewarded. He sat up, grabbed his fork, and after a deep breath, dove in. The vegetables disappeared first, then meat, and slices of buttered bread to go with it all. 

When the meal was done, Magnus looked triumphant. She had challenged him, and he had exceeded all expectation. At the moment, though, he was severely uncomfortable. His belt dug deep into his stomach. He felt as though he was about to burst. Melanie surveyed him as though she were judging a prize hog at a county fair. Satisfied, she decided to give him a moment to collect himself. “I’m going to clean up a bit. You’re welcome to relax in the living room if you’d like.” 

He nodded, and as she was gathering up plates and putting them on the serving tray, he asked her where the restroom was. “Down the hall, first door on the right.” 

“Thanks.”

He stood with some difficulty and made his way to the bathroom. He opened up his shirt and took off his belt and observed himself in the mirror. He was swollen, no doubt about it. It hurt, too, but not enough to override the pleasure coursing through him. Magnus had never been so turned on in his life. He didn’t quite understand it. Sure, he liked to eat, but he had always kept himself in excellent shape. Seeing his stomach bowing outward, though, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to keep it that way. 

He could hear food gurgling inside of him and groaned a little, poking and prodding at himself, adding pressure here and there. As he did this, he let out belches big and small, releasing some of the pressure inside himself. This helped with his comfort just enough that he was able to button his shirt up again and do his belt up again. He gave himself an extra notch, knowing that whatever Melanie was doing for dessert, it was going to be delicious enough that he would need the extra room.

In the kitchen, Melanie had pulled a pecan pie out of the fridge and was setting two large slices--one nearly a full quarter of the pie--on large, almost platter-like plates and covering them with homemade whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and cinnamon. Once that was done, she pulled a chocolate cake out of the fridge. It was made up of six thin layers, each with chocolate buttercream frosting in between. It was frosted with red vanilla buttercream frosting, with little white buttercream roses all along the top. 

There was a fruit tart, too, with the fresh, ripe fruit arranged on top of the shortbread crust and custard in a beautiful pattern. To the plates she added one slice each of the chocolate cake and the fruit tart. Magnus, of course, got the lion’s share of each of these. Melanie, for a moment, wondered if she shouldn’t give him quite so much. It wouldn’t do to overwhelm him. But when she thought about how he’d torn into the main course, she went weak-kneed. He could eat what he was given, she was certain. He was not the sort of man to leave anything on his plate.

As Melanie was arranging their dessert on the coffee table in the living room, Magnus walked in. Melanie gave him a smile and he grinned back at her. She stood, smoothing the front of her dress. “I wasn’t sure what you’d feel like for dessert, so I tried a few different things.”

“It all looks fantastic.”

She sat down on the edge of the couch. Magnus sat beside her, realizing why she had sat on the edge of the couch. It was one of those couches that practically swallowed you up it was so cushy. 

“Oof.” He felt lethargic. Too much food, too much comfort. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to put all that away, Mel.” Melanie reached for a fork and cut off a piece of chocolate cake, holding it up to his mouth.

“I think you’ll find a way,” she cooed.

And somehow, he did. It was one of the most intimate experiences of his life. She fed him bite after bite and, somehow, he ate it all. The moist chocolate cake was so sweet it almost hurt his teeth, and yet he couldn’t stop eating it. The pecan pie was the best he’d ever had. The tart was a delightful end to the evening, light and fruity and utterly perfect. 

By the time they were finished, that one extra notch seemed like not nearly enough--he needed two or three. Magnus took a moment to wonder just how many calories he had just consumed. The cake slice alone must’ve been at least a thousand, if not more with all that frosting, and the pecan pie, with all the whipped cream and chocolate sauce as probably close to that, too. The tart was likely around half that. He sighed contentedly. Three thousand calories just for dessert--what was this woman trying to do to him? He smiled at her. “Mel, that was lovely.”

“Thank you, Magnus.” She paused for a moment, her hands reaching out a little bit before finding their way back to her soft lap. 

“Magnus, would you mind if I--” As she said this, she reached out her hands toward his stomach and began massaging. Her soft fingers worked deftly. She was clearly experienced. Magnus moaned. 

“Ooh, you ate very well, big boy,” she purred. “We’ll fix that tummyache right up, won’t we. Shh, just relax, it’s alright.” 

He let out a window-shattering burp. “That was impressive! Let’s see if we can’t give you a little more room than that, though.” 

She continued rubbing his belly and all he could think was how good it felt, how he never wanted to leave this moment, with this gorgeous woman, her long hair tickling him through his shirt, fingers working towards his comfort. It was glorious.

Twenty minutes later, they were standing on her front porch. “That was really, um, really lovely, Melanie.” She blushed.

“Thanks. I really enjoyed having you over.”

“I’d love to come again. Anytime.” 

Her smile was enormous. “I’d love to have you again.”

There was a moment of silence, and then he leaned in and kissed her. Melanie was surprised at first, but that dissipated quickly. He was as good at kissing as she was at giving tummy rubs. A few moments later, they broke apart, breathing heavily. 

“I’d really love to have you again,” she breathed. 

He chuckled. “I’ll call you. Have a good night.”

She watched as he walked to his car, waving as she pulled away. Then, she stepped inside her house, shut the door behind her, leaned against it, and sighed like the lovesick girl she was.

(Continued in post 5 of this thread)


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## Innocent Smoothie (Jun 19, 2013)

I liked it. Great descriptions, really nice detail.


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## Phoenix (Jun 20, 2013)

Excellent writing. Your attention to rich details and use of actual words really brought the whole scene into my mind's eye. You've taken the leap into composition that I never did. Hope you write more, and consider your initial foray a success. Thanks for sharing.


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## wafflecone (Jun 20, 2013)

Thank you! I'm glad y'all are enjoying it. Do you think I should continue the story?


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## wafflecone (Jun 25, 2013)

*Part II: The Food Fair*

A little over a week later, Magnus asked his new craving out on a second date. Almost from the moment he had left her house, he had begun planning. Well, perhaps not quite so soon. He was so full and sleepy he had been certain that what should have been a twenty minute drive actually took much longer. 

Once he was in bed, stripped down to his boxer briefs, he lay in the cool darkness, poking and prodding at his tummy, massaging it, and moaning his discomfort. He had talked to himself: Oh why did I eat so much? What was I expecting after eating all those dumplings? 

This was punctuated by a loud burp. His stomach gurgled. And all that dessert--enough for a dozen people at least... 

He whined a little here. How do you say no to a woman like that... oof... Lord, I swear I will never be hungry again. 

The next day, after his morning ablutions, he had planned to cook himself a decent breakfast and wound up having four slices of buttered toast and jam, four eggs, and half a pound of bacon. While Magnus considered himself a big eater, it was rare for him to eat so much right at the start of the day.

While he was at work, he thought about ways to impress Melanie on their second date. He thought about a movie--something edgy and with a lot of weight to it that they could discuss for hours afterwards--but that seemed like a cop-out. She deserved something special. 

Of course, he knew she loved food. He would take her to a restaurant, but that seemed dull when he saw how much pleasure she took in cooking what she ate. And none of them was likely to have that fabulous beer cheese soup, besides. He considered concerts, picnics, mini golf, a roller derby match, a night at the opera, and the arcade. While all of these would certainly be fine, none of them really screamed Melanie, at least not on a second date. Magnus wanted to blow her away. He wanted her to see him as the fulfilment of every dream she had ever had. 

It was while he was jogging that he saw the flyer. The idea was a little cheesy, but cute, and definitely something he knew Melanie would enjoy. He finished his run and began his plotting at home. Magnus called her on Wednesday, asking if she was free. I want to take you to the food fair on Saturday. How does that sound? 

His suggestion was met with excitement. Melanie had never been before, though she had always wanted to. Its a date, then.

Driving to her house to pick her up seemed an enormous challenge. He just wanted to be with her already, have her laughing in the passenger seat. He wanted to hear her speak, to converse with her, to admire her curves through whatever perfect outfit she had chosen for the occasion. He wanted to share a funnel cake with her and get powdered sugar all over and taste her fingers as she slipped a particularly tasty morsel into his mouth. 

He sighed as he drove. He pulled up in front of her home--he was quite impressed with the landscaping in the front yard, which combined beautiful flowers and trees with patches of herbs and produce--and walked up to her front door. 

When she opened it, he was stunned. The outfit she was in was very different from last time. Her long hair was tied back into a clean ponytail, the occasional wispy curl escaping fetchingly around her face. She wore a pair of well-worn high-waisted jean shorts, fraying at the edges, that fit her so tightly it looked like she had poured herself into them. She had a white tank top tucked into the shorts. It hugged her nice and tight, the lacy outline of her nude bra visible if you were looking. Her face looked just as fresh and sweet as ever, her lips a subtle pink. 

Hello, she murmured. When Magnus didnt reply, she asked, Is there something wrong? Theres not a stain on my shirt, is there? 

She looked down at her shirt, turning around and showing her pert, round bottom, thin gold bracelets jangling on plump arms. Are my shorts okay? She tugged at them a little. 

Its not too revealing or anything? You said we were going to the fair, so I dressed really casually. Should I change? Im so sorry. Melanie had begun to speak quickly, her voice getting higher as her distress increased. After a few more seconds, Magnus was able to stop drinking her in.

_Melanie_, he rumbled, his voice on the verge of cracking. He took one of her hands. She looked up at him. Youre perfect.

Are you sure? Because I can go change really quick if you--

_Perfect_. Dont change a thing.

Realizing that he was not placating her, she felt a blush moving up her neck and into her face. 

Oh. Really? She took a moment to collect herself. Thank you. I really appreciate that. 

She stepped inside the house for a moment and grabbed her purse. When she exited, she held out her arm for him. Shall we? 

Magnus took her arm with a grin. We shall.

Soon, they had arrived at the fair. The smell was intoxicating. It was warm out, but not so hot as to spoil ones appetite. Magnus, who had not eaten much today due to nervousness, felt himself growing more ravenous by the moment. He bought their tickets and shelled out a few extra dollars for a map and a program. 

He held the map out to Melanie. You should pick where to start. 

She took the map and opened it up. She found that everything was organized by country. There was the American section, which boasted apple, key lime, and Twinkie pie, Cajun dishes, chicken friend steak, meatloaf, fried chicken and waffles, chicken wings, ribs, po boys, Philly cheese steaks, cheeseburgers, and deep-fried everything. 

There was the German section with pretzels, bratwurst, schnitzel, sauerkraut, and over forty different varieties of strudel! There was a French section, an Italian quarter, a Chinese corner, and spots for British, Spanish, Filipino, Chinese, Japanese, Irish, Scottish, Dutch, Croatian, and Hawaiian food, and numerous other booths and sections. 

Melanies eyes widened. How to begin?

She set them off in the direction of the American food. 

How does dessert first sound? she asked as they walked over. Magnus near-empty belly gave a loud roar. He was a little embarassed, but the little grin Melanie was straining to hide relaxed him.

Whatever you think, Mel. Im game for anything.

Good! She stopped at the booth beside them. Have you ever had a deep-fried Twinkie, Magnus?

He shook his head.

Well, youre in for a real treat. They ordered two Twinkies and plenty of chocolate sauce to dip them in. Melanie showed him how to do it properly, covering the end in chocolate sauce and then biting into it with relish, moaning happily at the flavor. 

Never gets old, she said, her mouth full of crispy batter, chocolate sauce, and cream. Magnus followed suit and was happy to find that she had not been exaggerating. It was incredibly sweet, especially with the chocolate sauce. He could practically feel his blood sugar spiking. When they finished that, Melanie went back to the same booth and ordered some deep-fried Oreos. 

Of course, these, too, were perfection. Once he had downed three of the four they had bought, he immediately wanted more. Perhaps that was her design--to get him all hopped up on sugar and carbohydrates and thus getting hungrier every minute. When he glanced at her and noticed how intently she was watching him, and her nervous smile at being caught, how quickly she turned away, Magnus felt that his suspicions were confirmed. 

_Smart girl,_ he thought.

They made their way through all sorts of other desserts--splitting slices of pie with wonderfully flaky, buttery crust, pieces of cake, strudel, some lovely honey-covered fried confection, fried ice cream, and some funnel cake. After that, Magnus, knowing that they were not here just for dessert, called a halt. I need a breather, otherwise Im not going to be able to get much dinner down. 

Melanie nodded and suggested they go listen to one of the bands that was playing. As they walked, they talked about their favorite books. Melanie admitted to being an avowed fantasy obsessive.

It makes me feel guilty sometimes, that so much of what I read is just in this one genre, but theres so much good stuff, and its what I really enjoy. She discussed a German writer that Magnus was hearing about for the first time. Hes so inventive! Theres a scene in one of his books where the main character has to go through a giants head in order to continue on his way. While hes in this head, he decides to stay awhile and winds up creating dreams that the giant head and all of the other inhabitants of the head watch like movies. 

While she talked, she gestured widely and began to lose track of her surroundings. She almost hit a few people as she stretched out her arms to speak, and she tripped on particularly thick clumps of grass once or twice.

Magnus nodded and listened carefully the whole time, noting the title in the back of his mind. When it was his turn to speak, Melanie quieted immediately. A mans taste in books said a lot about him. 

I have to say, my favorite book has got to be _Freedom_. I loved how it had this huge scope but all the characters were detailed perfectly, faults and all. Actually, mostly their faults. But you could see yourself being all of them at different points. You couldnt really get mad at them for making their stupid decisions because you understood them so well. 

Magnus was more subdued in his enthusiasm. Part of this was because he was digesting enough sugary treats to cause two dozen preschoolers to combust from the extra energy. Part of this was because, though he could be a very passionate person about certain things, literature was not usually among them. And another, larger part was due to the fact that he was enjoying watching Melanie. He would slow sometimes and let her walk a few steps ahead in order to get a better view of her rolling hips straining at the seams of her shorts.

They made it over to where the band was playing. There was a bench open and they took it. It was set farther back, making it easy to see all the people watching the band, as well as those walking by. Magnus rested one long arm along the back of the bench. Melanie leaned back against it. She sat close enough that their legs touched, but not quite close enough to call it snuggling. They commented on various people as they walked by, coming up with ideas of what their lives must be like. Of course, this eventually devolved into, What do you think of _them_? 

Funnily enough, it was not Melanie who started this line of conversation. Magnus pointed out a few different guys here and there, trying to peg her type. Though he enjoyed being around her and thought they clicked well, he had a feeling he wasnt the sort she usually chased after. Which was an odd thing to think about, considering he was romance novel cover material and had never lacked for feminine attention. He pointed out a man with a build similar to his own. What about him?

Yeah, hes cute, I guess.

You guess?

Id have to talk with him first, to be sure. It's hard for me to... um... _connect_ with people physically if I can't connect emotionally."

Magnus nodded. It was a very diplomatic answer, but he suspected there might be something else going on that she was not being forthcoming about.

"What about him?" This man was very tall, but so thin it seemed his coming to the food fair had been an accident. 

"Oh, he's definitely too skinny." She frowned. Melanie tended to take very thin men as a personal affront. Why choose to be thin when you could be so much _more_? While she did not necessarily take it upon herself to change the habits of such men, whenever she saw one, she felt a deep longing right from her core to do just that. "Someone needs to get that boy some deep-fried Oreos."

Magnus nodded. So, for her, size did matter. At the very least, he figured she had something against thinness. Which made sense, considering her love for food and how comfortable she was with her size. 

"What about that guy?" The man was enormous. He made walking look like a chore.

Melanie tilted her head to the side. "He's alright, though perhaps not quite for me."

Magnus looked for a man who was more average looking. He spotted one. He would've been big even without all the extra fat padding him. The man looked like an ex-wrestler or football player. As it was, though, he clearly had some muscle underneath a thick layer of blubber. "That guy?"

It took a few moments for her eyes to find him, but once they did, she was locked on. And was that--did Magnus catch her grazing her lips with her tongue for a moment? Yes, she had definitely just licked her lips. 

"I like him." She looked back and up at Magnus. "Good choice."

They played the same game again, this time with Melanie choosing women for Magnus. Melanie copied his tactics to a certain degree, but she picked women who were all relatively close to her own size but were shaped differently. She chose one woman who was massively busty, and while Magnus admitted to a general appreciation, Melanie could not get much more out of him. 

There was a woman who was very pear-shaped, and, again, while Magnus appreciated her, she was not quite to his tastes. A woman with her weight focused in her belly did not seem to catch his eye hardly at all. But the woman who had weight spread evenly, with perhaps a slight hourglass figure, hit it out of the park. He seemed embarrassed to admit to being attracted to another woman while in Melanie's presence, which Melanie found quite endearing. She was confident enough in herself and in Magnus to know that he wouldn't start scamming chicks for phone numbers while he was already on a date.

The continued talking until the band finished playing. Then Melanie asked, "Ready for dinner?" 

Magnus, having allowed his stomach to settle, was absolutely ready. They started off with tempura shrimp and sushi among the Japanese booths, then shared a plate of jambalaya. They got a big order of garlic fries, then washed that down with bratwurst. As they continued eating their way through the entire food fair, Melanie began claiming she was far too full to finish her portions, instead offering them to Magnus, who seemed to have become nothing but a mouth. 

She took a few bites of her pretzel, then handed it over to him, and watched with delight as he tore into it and saw it finished in three enormous bites. They got vegetable dumplings over in the Chinese corner, as well as a few pancakes' worth of mu shi pork. While Melanie seemed to have no trouble eating four of the eight dumplings, she only had a bite of the mu shi before she said something about not wanting to be wasteful and proffered her wrap towards him. Magnus ate it hungrily, as though he had not been eating for the past twenty minutes straight. 

They took a break and got drinks. Magnus had a beer and Melanie found herself with a large, frilly margarita. Magnus could feel his stomach trying to find space for all the food he was shoveling into it. His jeans felt constraining. He burped and Melanie looked on happily. He was really beginning to enjoy letting himself eat everything he wanted, and this warm, heavy, full feeling wasn't half bad, either.

There was more eating: fried rice found its way into Magnus' engorged stomach, along with fried okra, a half rack of barbecued ribs, and most of a cheeseburger. Layered on top of this in his belly was chocolate-covered bacon, key lime pie, two grilled peaches, donuts, fudge, and meatloaf. He topped it off with three cupcakes with enough frosting to choke a lesser man--chocolate, red velvet, and hibiscus and orange flavors. 

Melanie encouraged every bite, especially as his eating slowed, placing her hand on his lower back and rubbing in slow, soft circles as she spoke quietly. During this, Magnus drank four more beers, while Melanie nursed a second margarita. When Magnus cried uncle, he was no longer in good enough condition to drive. Melanie, who had only finished about a quarter of her second drink, took the car keys.

As they walked out to the car on the balmy summer evening, Magnus found it difficult to keep moving. Every sense was centered on his stomach. It was so heavy, so packed... and he'd thought Melanie had stuffed him last week! 

Perhaps the week in between had helped him forget what it was to be well and truly fed, but as he recounted everything he had eaten, it was a massive amount. He rubbed his stomach and groaned on the way to the car, not even bothering to attempt to hide his discomfort. As he struggled into the passenger seat, Melanie giggled. He looked absolutely delicious, and though he was uncomfortable now, she knew he wouldn't be quite so pained for much longer. She had him lean his seat as far back as it would go and, as she drove, reached over and rubbed his stomach with one hand.

"Glad I'm not driving," he mumbled sleepily. 

"Your wandering hands would be veeery--" he paused for a large yawn "--distracting." 

Once they were on the freeway heading back towards home, she asked him how long it would be before he felt good enough to drive. "Probably a few hours at least. Maybe give me one of those really great belly rubs while we wait?" 

Melanie grinned at the road. 

Magnus sighed and whined beside her, but he sounded so wonderfully content that she felt absolutely no remorse. She was proud of him for putting all that food away. He really was so perfect. Such a fantastic, big eater. She'd do nothing but stuff him all day if she could! He was so eager about it and clearly enjoyed it at least as much as she did, if not more. 

She pulled his car into her driveway and helped him out. It was hard to tell through his shirt, but it seemed as if his stomach was sticking out an extra three inches or so, and rock solid. His jeans looked exceptionally tortured, and the fabric of his shirt was stretched so tight it looked as though a deep breath would cause it to tear. They walked into the house. He started heading towards the couch. 

"Oh, no, big man, you're sleeping in the guest room tonight. I wouldn't feel safe with you driving yourself home." 

He tried to argue, but he was so tired and full and drunk that he hardly felt it mattered. However, there was one thing he would not let go. "If I'm staying, do I still get a belly rub, or do I just get the bed?"

Melanie smiled. "You get a belly rub, a bed, pajamas, and breakfast, if you want it. I promise I won't fill you up quite so much if you stay tomorrow morning." 

Her voice was low and silky and as she spoke she traced down from the notch between his collar bones to the button of his tortured jeans. She undid it expertly. Magnus felt himself stirring to life, but Melanie walked away.

"Be right back, big man," she said, sounding ever so slightly mischievous. 

Magnus waited, standing, in the guest bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was perfectly decorated--not a thing out of place, every color combining for a certain effect. When Melanie returned, he was busy admiring a nude painting on the wall. It was of a woman from behind. The long blonde curls looked familiar. "That's me. An old... friend painted it for me."

"Friend?"

"Boyfriend. A little over ten years ago."

He nodded. It was clearly a painting between lovers. But it was beautiful, no doubt, and captured her essence, if you believed paintings could do such things. 

"I have something for you to change into." He turned and was surprised to see the curvaceous beauty in a frilly silk nightgown with matching shorts (if you could call them that). She handed him an extra large men's t-shirt, which, luckily, was long enough to cover his torso, as well as a pair of 
boxers. "These might be big. I always keep spares here, just in case."

"Thank you," he replied.

Melanie walked out, her bare feet making hardly any noise against the hardwood. "Let me know when you want me to come in."

"Yeah."

Melanie sat cross-legged on her bed for a few moments. Her long hair was out of its ponytail, spilling down her back in golden waves. She breathed deeply. "It's only the second date. Don't actually sleep with the guy. Just--make him comfortable. Don't cross any lines." 

But she thought about him, gorged and giving himself over to her experienced hands and she felt herself growing wet. "Just make him comfortable."

Moments later, she heard his door open. "Melanie?" 

"Just a sec."

Melanie walked into the room. Magnus was already lying down on the bed, one hand on his stomach. "I feel so fat, Mel." 

She sat on the bed beside him.
"You're not fat, Magnus, you are just exceptionally well-fed. Shh, no more talking, just let me take good care of you." 

Melanie lifted up his shirt. His stomach was even more distended than she had thought--it stuck out a good four or five inches from the rest of his body. "Good boy. You ate well, didn't you? There's always more where that came from. But for now, let's just get you comfy." 

The massage lasted a good thirty minutes. In the dimly-lit bedroom, with a full belly, while getting a fantastic massage, one would've imagined that Magnus would fall asleep fairly quickly. But Melanie's fingers kept him awake. He swore he could feel them straying towards places that were not necessarily second-date appropriate. He didn't mind. In fact, he desperately wished she would allow herself to stray completely, but she never seemed to get there, always pulling herself back at the last moment. 

Magnus was rock hard. Though Melanie noticed, she focused on relieving the pressure inside her man's tummy rather than his lower regions. It worked. Some gas expulsion and he felt as though he had only eaten half of what he had actually consumed. 

"Feel better?" Melanie asked, her tone soothing.

"Much."

"Good." She stood. "Sleep well."

Magnus grabbed her wrist. "No." 

Melanie turned, confused. 

"Stay." He sat up. "Sleep with me."

"Magnus!"

"No, not like that. Just... sleep. Real sleep."

"I don't--"

"Please?" He was in earnest. Though sex would be nice, he understood her desire to wait a little longer.

"I... hm." She thought about it for a moment. "Fine. But not in here--my mattress is much comfier."

A few minutes later, they were both in Melanie's bed. Melanie, surprisingly, fell asleep first. Magnus stayed awake, thinking. This was interrupted with Melanie rolled towards him, wrapped one leg around him, and snuggled her face against his chest. For a moment, every atom of his body sparked. But once that subsided, he found himself comfortable with the beautiful bundle of curves wrapped around him, and he was soon snoring as well.


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## Britt Reid (Jun 30, 2013)

bump after edit


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## Muir (Jul 3, 2013)

An even lovelier second part than the first!

I appreciate how you can gently infer their gaining rather than making it the central focus of the story (although I am very much a fan of gaining/growth focus). I _love_ how unabashedly foodie this story is. The way you portray the experience of overeating, of being stuffed, and what people might find compelling feels very true to life.

I hope for more!


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## wafflecone (Jul 17, 2013)

*Part III: Thanksgiving Stuffing*

Three months had passed since the food fair. They had been happy months, filled with firsts. Melanie and Magnus regularly spent nights at each others places and found that their things were already getting mixed. Melanie had a small space in Magnus closet, and he in hers. She always made certain his kitchen was well-stocked in the event that they had dinner at his place. 

They went to movies, museums, and had even gone on a weekend camping trip to Yosemite. Magnus was impressed with Melanies stamina. One wouldnt have expected her to be able to make a steep four-mile hike at such a high altitude to get to his favorite lake without stopping, but she had, and had eagerly jumped into the lake afterwards. Magnus found himself having a slightly more difficult time than he expected, but he didnt think much of it. 

Their habits had changed in the last few months. Magnus worked out only a few times a week now. He found his visits to the gym relaxing, but he also wanted to make as much time for Melanie as possible. He hadnt really noticed, but his muscles were slowly being covered with a thin layer of pudge. 

Melanie found herself cooking much larger meals than before. Even when she wasnt feeling devious and trying to fill him to the brim, she liked to make enough for him that he felt full by the time he was done and would still have leftovers. His appetite had grown, so she tended to make quite a lot. It was all so good that Mel couldnt help but indulge just a little bit. Consequently, she had grown a littleabout ten or so pounds, all in the right places. Magnus didnt complain one bit.

The warm weather had abated, giving way to slightly cooler fall days. Discussions arose about how holidays would be handled. Both of their families had been calling, requesting their presence at Thanksgiving and Christmas. They decided to do Thanksgiving at Melanies parents home, since they were closer and Magnus couldnt get more than one extra day off. Melanie was all aflutter. Theyre going to love you! 

The day before, Melanie instructed Magnus to fast before their arrival. If you eat before, youre going to be stuffed before shes even done with hors doeuvres, and trust me, you dont want to miss a thing. 

Magnus had whined a little. He had never been one to skip meals, and he liked it even less now. Aw, Melanie, cant I just have some toast or something to tide me over? 

You can, but youre going to regret it when shes setting down platefuls in front of you and youre too full of boring breakfast to enjoy it. He heaved a sigh and hoped Melanies mother was as good a cook as Melanie made her out to be. Not that he had any reason to doubt her. The way Melanie put it, her mother was a culinary goddess. She taught me my way around the kitchen, but Ive never even been able to come close to her talent. 

Magnus found this hard to believe.

As they were driving, his stomach rumbled. Can we stop over and get a McMuffin or something? 

I wouldnt recommend it. She reached over from the drivers seat and patted his stomach. It was still fairly flat, and his abs were still somewhat visible, but he was definitely softer. Were going to get you all taken care of, honey. Youll be begging us to stop by the end. 

I very much doubt that. I was a big eater before, but after three months with you, Im pretty sure I could eat a horse haunch by myself now, he declared.

Melanie laughed.

It was a long drive. Melanie pointed out her favorite landmarks as they went--houses she had long admired, berry-picking farms she had visited, diners she had tried. Magnus, who rarely came this far north, and even more rarely took backroads to get there, recognized only a few things here and there. It was a nice drive.

Three hours later, they were pulling up to a large two-story house. There were ten other cars parked in the large driveway. They had a few acres of land, some of which was dedicated to a large, Eden-like garden. The house itself was simple, with a broad front porch and white siding. Melanie held her boyfriends hand as they walked in the door. 

They were greeted by numerous small children running through the house, a few babies crawling around here and there, adults spread through various rooms, chatting. And munching. In fact, it seemed everyone had food in their hands. Melanie hardly seemed to notice, instead moving to each knot of people and introducing Magnus. Magnus struggled to keep names and faces straight while trying to take in just how much food there was. 

It was all finger food, but there was a massive amount of ita full dinner in itself. There were finger sandwiches, small cookies, fresh fruit and vegetables cut in beautiful designs, pigs in blankets, meatballs, spring rolls, small sausages, crackers and cheese, melon wrapped in ham, and so many other things Magnus wasnt able to rest his eyes on long enough to realize what it was. 

The food was spread out over every flat surface. Every end table, coffee table, table table and shelf was employed in carrying the spread. Magnus now felt that Melanie had not fully prepared him for the onslaught of food he was about to gorge himself on.

Melanies family was nice and very normal. Most everyone was a little plump, especially as generations increased. There was one very athletic-looking couple, but even they were enjoying themselves. The entire place was permeated with an air of comfort. Magnus felt very much at home. 

Magnus went to grab a plate, but Melanie pulled him down a hallway and into another room. It was a kitchenan enormous kitchen. It looked like something straight out of a large restaurant. Melanie walked over to an island that was set back from the kitchen, allowing anyone who sat there to observe all cooking that would ever happen in the house. Magnus followed. A door opened to the rightthe pantry, he assumedand he had to struggle not to gape at what came out of it.

The woman was enormous. He was sure she had to be at least four hundred poundsmaybe even five hundred. But she moved with slow ease. She had a pretty face, made up to the nines, and her blonde curls were pulled up in an elaborate up-do. Magnus recognized the rosy cheeks, the full lips, and the ski-slope nose. This had to be Melanies mother, Patricia. 

Melanie took a few tidbits from the islanda mozzarella ball, a slice of peachand popped them into her mouth as she walked over to the large woman Hi, Ma! 

Oh, hi, baby duck! There was no doubt that Melanies mother was, indeed, from Wisconsin with that accent. They pulled each other into an embrace that looked so soft and warm that Magnus was almost a little jealous. 

Ma, this is Magnus. Melanies mother turned to look at him and put a hand over her mouth. 

Well, isnt he just delicious. So handsome! Come here, Magnus, let me get a good look at you. Magnus obliged. She took his large hands into her small, plump ones and held him at arms length. 

You are a real catch, arent you? She laughed and then pulled him into a big hug. It was just as soft as hed imagined. Its fantastic to meet you Magnus. Im Patricia. 

Its great to meet you, Patricia. Melanie never told me just how beautiful you were. She gave a girlish giggle. When she released him from her embrace, she looked down at his pants. 

Oh, sweetie, you probably want ter change those out fer something a little more forgiving. Melanie tells me youre a big eater. Wouldnt want to ruin those lovely pants! Melanie, Im sure theres something of your fathers thatll fit him. You should run and grab those for him.

Melanie looked at Magnus, making sure he was alright, and he nodded and smiled at her. He had seated himself at the island and was trying little tidbits of food here and there. Patricia took a few more moments to look at him, sighing happily. She asked him more about himself. Knowing this was an important interview, he told her of his work, his family, his hobbies, and how he and Melanie had met. 

We were both at a local burger jointhas she ever taken you to Bettys? Oh, Patricia, you have got to go, they have great burgers, and their fries are perfectand we were both sitting alone. I saw her and was admiring, but I wasnt going to make a move. She looked so beautiful I was sure that she had to have a boyfriend. 

Fact was, even at a hundred and eighty pounds, Melanie was a knockout. Only the most ridiculously prejudiced people would have been unable to admit that she was beautiful. Several of Magnus friends, who he knew only ever dated thin women, had asked if Melanie had any sisters or cousins. She turned heads wherever she went, and it was rare that the looks she got were of disgust. 

I, of course, was hoping shed notice me, but I didnt catch her looking at me onceuntil my food came, that is. 

Patricia, who was listening raptly, nodded. She knew very well how exciting it could be to watch a man eat and really enjoy it. 

Then I caught her stealing me quite a few looks. At first I thought she was grossed out because I ordered two half-pound burgers, fries, and a milkshake. But she kept looking, and her cheeks got all rosy pink. She almost didnt finish her own food. After I finished, I was sitting for a moment, taking a little rest, and she sauntered over to me looking very determined. And then she said 

If I dont ask for your number right now, I know Ill be kicking myself for the rest of my life, Melanie finished as she walked back into the kitchen, her heels clicking on the floor. And I would have. 

Magnus smiled at her. We exchanged numbers. I called her that night. She asked me to come over to her place later in the week, and after one dinner with her, I knew I just couldnt let this one go. 

Patricia cooed over them for a little while longer, and then jumped back into the kitchen. Melanie asked her if she needed any help, but she waved her away and told her to go outside and check on her father.

Melanie nearly had to drag Magnus away from the buffet. He was still so hungry, and hed hardly gotten to eat anything. She handed him a pair of sweat pants and walked him down the hall to what had once been her bedroom so he could change. Though the furniture was the same, much of her décor was gone, replaced by tasteful Monet prints. She closed the door and sat down on the bed. Magnus was a little uncomfortable with wearing sweatpants to a family gathering, and he said so. 

But Magnus, youre going to be so uncomfortable in those. She gestured to his dress pants. 

Ill be fine. If I get uncomfortable, Ill stop.

Honey, its Thanksgiving, its my moms cooking, and you are a big eater. Youre going to want the sweatpants.

He considered it, then said, Tell you what. If I feel uncomfortable in the dress pants, Ill change into these. Alright?

Melanie nodded. It was a good compromise. He sat down next to her on the bed and kissed her. If I eat well tonight, do I get a reward?

Besides the approval of my family and my pride in you? I hadnt even thought about it. She said this with a tone that implied that she had thought quite a bit about it. But I suppose we could start with a little tummy rub.

Just a tummy rub?

Well, since it is a holiday, maybe I could make it special. She pretended to think about it. What about a tummy rub with some warm scented oils?

Now youre talking. He kissed her again, right at the base of her jaw.

Hmmm and maybe after that we could have a nice hot bath together.

Music to my ears.

And if youre not too tired, maybe we could come back in here on this nice, big bed and canoodle.

Instead of agreeing, he kissed her again, rolling her onto her back. Or we could canoodle now.

Not now, theres little kids awake!

Your doors locked

And you havent eaten hardly anything She pouted up at him and played with the collar of his shirt. And Im hungry, too. We cant canoodle on an empty stomach.

The rumbling of his stomach seemed to agree with this opinion. He pressed his face against her soft, white shoulder and sighed. Fine. Food first.

After a few more minutes, they walked out of her bedroom and made their way to a big glass slider that opened up to a patio. Melanie opened it and they were greeted with the mouthwatering scent of roasting pork. Magnus had to suppress a groan of longing. Melanie had said that dinner wouldnt be starting until three, and it was only noon now. Waiting another three hours to be able to sample pork that smelled that good was going to be torture. 

Beside the enormous, grill-shaped pig roaster, there was a very large man. He had to be at least Patricias size, but Magnus guessed he was even bigger. He was sitting on a large bench, eating from a plate of cookies and reading a very ponderous-looking tome. He looked up as the door opened and greeted them with a smile. He did not attempt to rise, which Magnus understood and did not take personally. Melanie greeted him with a big hug and introduced Magnus.

Ive heard a lot about you! He had the same endearing accent as Patricia. Names Roy. Great ta meet ya. Put er there. 

He held out his hand and Magnus shook it. 

Melanie pulled up two lawn chairs and set them up close to Roy. She asked him what he was reading, which launched into a very enlightening discussion about Southern, family-centric literature which Magnus found very interesting. However, he was still hungry, and the smell of the roasting pork did nothing to curb his appetite. When his stomach rumbled like he hadnt eaten in a week, they broke and Melanie took him inside to the large living room where everyone else had been. 

Go ahead and find a seat, love. Ill make you a plate. There was an open loveseat and he took one side of it, waiting eagerly for the food. There were nibbles within reach, and he devoured them greedily. Sitting beside him was another man about his age. He knew they had been introduced, but he asked for his name again. 

John, the man replied. Mels brother. 

They chatted about sports as they ate. John was a big man. He sat on another couch with his legs spread, letting his belly hang. He had a round face with the ruddiness that Magnus had begun to see as a trademark of Melanies family. The platters of food near them slowly emptied. Magnus began to feel much less ravenous. But he was definitely still very, very hungry. 

When Melanie returned with an enormous plate filled with goodies, Magnus took it eagerly, scarfing down the food like he hadnt just finished an entire plateful of meatballs and another half-plate of eggrolls. Melanie took her time eating, savoring each bite. She looked forward to Thanksgiving every year. 

Melanie didnt worry much about restraining her food intake, but she tended to stop once she knew she was full up. She didnt push her boundaries often. Thanksgiving was a day when she ate no matter how she was feeling. If she was hungry, she ate. If she was satisfied, she ate. When she was full, she kept eating. When her shirt started to feel small, she kept eating. 

This pushing could leasd to problems. When it almost hurt to think of another bite, she continued to gorge herself. It had happened more than once that she had eaten until she was immobilized, unable to move from her spot at the table because of her incredibly swollen, full, heavy stomach. She had been very grateful that her parents had invested in very comfortable armchairs for their dining table instead of normal chairs. 

As they sat on the loveseat, talking to various family members as they milled around the room, Melanie ferried plates of food to Magnus. It was all so good and he was so engrossed in getting to know everyone that he didnt even realize just how much he was packing away. He had four brimming platefuls of tidbits in his belly, on top of the snacks on the table in front of him, as well as about half of each of the plates that Melanie had gotten for herself, and she had made four of those.

Though he was nowhere near full, he did slow a little around two-thirty. Melanie assured him that dinner was always punctual and he would not have to wait a minute longer. Somehow, he resisted eating all that much in that half hour. He had some crackers and cheese, and a few spring rolls, and some bread with olive oil and vinegar, but he was sure he hadnt eaten all that much.

When Patricia called them all for dinner, everyone stood immediately and made their way to the dining room. Magnus followed them, while Melanie went to the kitchen to help her mother bring out the food. The dining table was enormous, and perfectly round, with the biggest lazy Susan Magnus had ever seen. There were enough place settings for everyone, including the kids. 

The lazy Susan, had it been a full table on its own, could have seated eight. 
Within a few minutes of ferrying back and forth from the kitchen, Patricia and Melanie had filled it with every Thanksgiving dish one could ever desire, along with some family favorites. The centerpiece was a huge pig, still steaming from the roaster. On either side of the pig were two turkeys, each of which must have been in the range of forty pounds, and which looked small by comparison. 

When Patricia sat down, everyone dug in immediately. Melanie explained that they had always said grace after the meal was finished. As dishes were passed around, there was some chatter, but most of the noise was quelled once people started moving their forks to their mouths.

Magnus had piled his plate high. He had several thick slices of juicy pork, and had been given the honor of having a turkey leg. Beside that was stuffing, a mountain of mashed potatoes, the thickest gravy hed ever seencomplete with sausageand homemade cranberry sauce. Bite after bite was shoveled into his waiting maw. It was all so good that he couldnt stand to have the flavors out of his mouth for more than a second. 

Melanie watched in between bites. Her own plate was similarly loaded up, but instead of mashed potatoes she had taken a heaping helping of marshmallow-covered baked sweet potatoes. When Magnus finished his first plate, he went back eagerly for more, taking more turkey, more pork, more stuffing, some of the sweet potatoes, and poured a generous helping of gravy over the meat. Every bite seemed better than the one before it. He had never had a Thanksgiving dinner this good. 

When he started on his third plate, he felt himself growing uncomfortable. The pressure of his belt was far too much. He undid one notch, then thought better of it and simply undid the best entirely. Having given himself several inches of growing room, he continued to dig into the meal. By the end of the plate, he was definitely feeling full. But seeing as Melanie was on her fourth plate and still looked to be going strong, he decided that it was certainly not a problem with his capacitymerely with his pants. 

He excused himself and went to Melanies old room. When he unbuttoned his pants, he breathed an enormous sigh of relief. His swollen gut surged forward into the space. He picked the sweatpants up from the bed, struggling a little with bending over. His stomach was rock hard and it was hard to bend around it. He soon had the sweats up, though, and returned back to his place beside Melanie. 

She had slowed quite a bit. The fourth plate was nearly done. Beneath the loose dress, her stomach bulged outward. Had he not known better, Magnus wouldve wondered if she was pregnant. She looked deliriously happy as she ate, one hand resting on her belly and massaging it. She hardly seemed to notice he was even there. Magnus jumped in for another round, this time trying out making turkey sandwiches with buttered rolls and garlic bread, as well as more of those sweet potatoes, more cranberry sauce, and fried green beans. 

He was definitely full by the end of his fourth plate. He was soon caught up to Melanie, who was on her fifth, but he was not eating quite as fast as he had been. Even with the large sweatpants on, his stomach was groaning, far beyond capacity. But Thanksgiving had nothing to do with capacity or hunger. It was the gluttons holiday, a bacchanalia of epic proportions. Though he was hurting just a tad, he would soldier on. 

There were numerous other dishes he had not yet tried, and he sampled each of themgreen bean casserole, jambalaya, macaroni and cheese, biscuits, lasagna, potato pancakes, and at least five other dishes. It was a bonanza of food. He wanted nothing more than to have every bite on the table sitting in his belly.

Plate five was gone after fifteen minutes. Plate six took twenty. Plate seven was the last. He had never felt this massive before. His stomach jutted out before him, pushing his shirt outward and upward. A strip of flesh showed between his shirt and his pants. He leaned back in the char, which, to his joy, actually reclined. 

Melanie was already leaned back, looking very sleepy, her dress fitting much more tightly than it had before. Magnus looked up and noted that everyone else was in much the same position, except the children, who had gotten up an hour ago to go play outside. 

Twenty minutes later, people drifted off to different rooms in the house. The men went to catch up on the game, the women moved outside and sat in the garden. Magnus and Melanie heaved themselves up with great difficulty and lay down in her bed. They moaned and sighed and rubbed taut bellies for a while, and eventually both fell asleep. 

An hour later, they were awaked by a knock on the door and one of Melanies cousins popping their head in and saying, Its time for dessert! 

Melanie got up eagerly, though she was still feeling pretty full up. Magnus moaned. I dont think I can do dessert.

Magnus, its dessert, of course you can.

Im still so full.

Itll be worth it. You know how good dinner was.

I dont even think I can get up.

Melanie took his hands and pulled him up. Weve got to hurry or the eclairs will be gone. You know how I adore eclairs.

They made their way back to the dining room. Instead of platters full of savories, there were platters full of sweets. There was a massive chocolate cake, homemade ice cream in three different flavors, grilled peaches in honey, seven different kinds of pie, and a mound of eclairs. At first, though it all looked quite appetizing, Magnus couldnt imagine eating more than a slice or two of pie. But once he was actually sitting down and smelling it all, he knew he was going to make a complete hog of himself.

And he did. With Melanies encouragement, he finished off the equivalent of half a pie, three slices hefty slices of the chocolate cake, four eclairs, several grilled peaches, cookies, chocolate truffles, chocolate bark, homemade caramels By the time he was done, he had tried at least a bite of everything. His shirt most definitely did not fit properly. He could hardly breathe. Melanie lounged in the chair beside him. About ten eclairs had made their way into her belly, along with one slice of each pie and one of each of the smaller sweets. 

Watching Magnus hork down all those desserts at her request was one of the most attractive things she had ever been witness to. Whenever he had been flagging, a little nudge from her and some coaxing and he was back at it again. He looked even more swollen than he had after dinner. Rather than trying to push his limits any further, she convinced him to stand. It took quite a bit of effort on his part, and some pulling on her end, but they got him out of his chair. He was so full he didnt even attempt to hide it. His big hands rested on either side of his swollen stomach and his breathing was loud and shallow. He doddered into the bedroom, Melanie close behind, her own belly looking quite luscious and full. 

Magnus sat down on the bed, groaning loudly. He attempted a few deep breaths, but his stomach was so full that it was futile. 

Melanie, he panted, you werent kidding. 

She smiled at him as she sat beside him on the bed. 

I dont kid about food. She gave a light push on his shoulder, her silent order for him to lay down. He obliged, squirming a little as he tried to relieve the pressure. She undid his shirt first, her fingers deft and gentle. Each open button allowed his stomach to push outward a little more. Every two buttons, she treated him to the lightest of caresses over his vast rotundity, slight pressure here and there. He belched, loudly. Her smile grew wider. Finally, the last button was undone. 

Would you look at that. She was almost surprised at how big he looked. But she had carefully watched every morsel of food that passed his lips. She could tell you everything that was inside. She cradled his paunch with her hands on either side. You really porked out, didnt you, baby? 

He nodded, closing his eyes. Im proud of you. The way you just kept socking it all awayoh! Im all tingly just thinking about it. 

Magnus chuckled sleepily. Ill have to take home plenty of leftovers for you, wont I? 

She rubbed her hand over his belly in wide circles. Keep you nice and full until we go to visit your family. 

She kissed her way across his belly, then rested her head on his chest. Imagine how disappointed your momma would be if you came home without a few extra pounds of Love Pudge. 

Had Magnus been more awake, he wouldve explained to Melanie that his mother would, in fact, not mind one bit if he never gained an ounce of Love Pudge. But he was fast asleep, the tryptophan having kicked in and the sugar rush having given way to a sugar crash.


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