# Raising the Bar Pt 1-2 - by Big Beautiful Dreamer (~BHM, ~BBW, Romance)



## Big Beautiful Dreamer (Apr 25, 2008)

_~BHM, ~BBW, Romance_ - A new job and a new romance, what next?

*Raising the Bar
by Big Beautiful Dreamer*​
Ed stared a hole through the rag he was swiping back and forth across the bar. 

_“Wish it didn’t have to be this way,” _Scott had said._ “I keep crunching the numbers and I can’t make it work.”_ 

He called it “laid off,” but the effect was the same. Ed had been canned.

He finished out his shift, serving the depressingly few customers, then plodded to the subway. At his stop, he impulsively dropped into the all-night pizzeria and ordered a pepperoni to take home, paying with some of the generous “severance” cash Scott had given him out of the drawer. The warmth and scent enticed him up the three flights of stairs. He flopped onto the futon and clicked on the television, whose 3 a.m. offerings were sparse. 

He settled on the second half of “Beverly Hills Cop,” and by the time it was over was mildly shocked to see he had eaten the entire pizza. He stood and stretched. Ooooof. He was stuffed. His belly felt distended and sore. His sides pulled, stretched and tender, and his engorged gut felt warm and heavy, weighed down with pizza.

He lay down and clicked on an infomercial, letting background noise wash over him. He drowsily massaged his bloated and aching belly, lids growing heavy. His stomach hurt, but it also felt oddly good for it to be so sated, as if a primeval need had been satisfied. Finally falling asleep around dawn, he slept restlessly until early afternoon, awakened by the shrilling of a phone that turned out to be a wrong number. He collected the paper and spent a dispiriting afternoon circling want ads and wondering if he could stand being a bar back again after he’d moved up to tending. The next three weeks were desperately long, relieved only by having saved enough cash to pay his next month’s rent “in case.”

One icy evening his friend Chuck called. Chuck relieved the boredom of banking by still acting as though he were in the frat house and threw large, raucous parties to which he wisely invited neighbors. 

“Super Bowl. Giants. Be there,” Chuck said.

“I dunno...”

“Why not? Dude. Chili, wings, nachos, beer, all the food groups. And some girls I know.”

“I’ve been canned. You know that.” 

“Come on. It’ll cheer you up.” Ed let himself be talked into going. He even showed up on the appointed night wearing a blue and orange polo shirt and a pair of khakis and a somewhat forced smile that, by the time the game started, came more easily because of the couple of beers that had slid down Ed’s throat.

Many of the guests seemed to have surgically attached themselves to another guest, reinforcing Ed’s loneliness. He fought it off by hovering over the food, busying himself with wings, nachos, brownies, deviled eggs, chips, whatever was available, all washed down with beer. By halftime he was pleasantly drunk and, pausing for a bathroom break, realized how full his belly was. It recalled the night he'd been fired ... and eaten an entire pizza. Distended and aching, but also warm, heavy, as though he were storing up for the fallow period. 

He found a spot on a chair with a limited view of the TV and therefore unoccupied and sank into it with a grunt.

Out of nowhere, a girl sat down on the arm of the chair. 

“Hi there,” she said. “My name’s Paula.” She was maybe five six to Ed’s six feet and wore her hair in a shining chestnut bob that framed her heart-shaped face. She had an hourglass figure contained in jeans and a crop top that showed a gently rounded and very sexy tummy.

Ed looked up. 

“Ed,” he said. They made small talk. Ed’s stomach, to his embarrassment, gurgled audibly.

“Ooh, I can fix that,” Paula said. Before Ed could say anything Paula had vanished, returning a minute later with a plate loaded with Crock-Pot meatballs, chips and guacamole, wings, and cheese dip. She carried a beer in her other hand. Ed was reluctant to refuse, so he started in, although he was already stuffed. His belly felt warm and taut, pressing against the waistband of his trousers, and he kind of wished he could let his belt out a notch. He gulped the beer.

“There, that’s better,” Paula said when Ed, astonishingly, had managed to empty his plate. His belly groaned with food, sagging and tender. 

“Big handsome guy like you can’t go hungry.”

“Me?” Ed said blankly. “You must be thinking of two other guys.”

“Nope,” Paula said. “Big handsome guy like Ed ... Ed ...

“Fuller,” Ed supplied.

“Dorset,” Paula answered, solemnly offering her hand. “So what do you do, Ed Fuller?”

“I’m a bartender ... well, I was,” Ed said, his face flaming. “Place where I worked is running on rims, they had to ... let me go.”

“Oh hey,” Paula said, brightening. “I’m a hostess at a restaurant where they need a bar guy. Let me put in a good word for you.”

Ed and Paula continued to talk and flirt, and before they knew it the party was winding down. Paula happily left with Ed and professed to want some “real food,” so they went to an all-night diner where Paula had coffee and doughnuts and Ed had coffee and a large wedge of coconut cream pie.

“I shouldn’t,” Ed mumbled. “I’ve been packing it in tonight.”

Paula leaned over and fed him a bite of donut. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she chided.

Ed licked his fork and eyed his suddenly empty plate. He stifled a belch. 

“Ate too much tonight,” he admitted. 

Paula leaned across the booth and laid her fingers lightly on his arm. “You have no idea how sexy it is to see a big handsome guy enjoying his food.”

That was the third time tonight she had called him a big handsome guy. Ed was too sodden with food and beer to figure out what was going on, but he was alert enough to get Paula’s phone number and her promise to talk to the manager about a job.

Sure enough, three long days later, Ed was invited to serve a shift “on trial” at the restaurant where Paula worked. She looked elegant in a black halter-top dress with a deep vee neckline. They flirted as he worked, and Ed found himself showing off a little. At the end of the night, the manager, Chad, paid him in cash and offered him a job. 

It was amazing what having a job and a girl did to Ed’s self-esteem. When they weren’t working, he took Paula to museums, the park, movies, out to eat, and suddenly life was good. More, though, there was a confidence to his stance and a spring in his step. Someone found him desirable. Someone thought, in fact, he hung the moon. Paula almost always agreed to whatever entertainment he proposed and always seemed to be enjoying herself.

Mainly, though, she seemed to enjoy watching Ed eat, which Ed thought was weird and said so. 

“Oh,” Paula replied, blushing, “it’s like watching someone do a job of work. It’s ... satisfying.” 

Since he was clearly satisfying her elsewhere, Ed let it drop. The relationship, though, seemed to be leaving its mark on Ed’s steadily thickening waistline. He’d always been a big guy, but of late he was developing a paunch that he couldn’t shake. The trip up the stairs to his apartment left him puffing for breath, and he began opting for slip-on shoes so he wouldn’t have to bend over. By Easter, when they went to brunch at her parents’ house in White Plains, Ed had had to buy a new suit to accommodate the twenty-five pounds he seemed to have packed on that spring.

Paula had not herself been immune to the many dining opportunities that dating provides. Ed had found himself enjoying watching her pert, high bottom broaden and soften, her breasts ripen into a C cup, her waistline blur and her little rounded tummy stretch and grow, becoming gravid and pear-shaped. She also had needed to buy a new outfit for Easter and was clad in a lavender linen-blend wrap dress that flattered her softening figure.

Ed was a little nervous about meeting the Fullers, but they were very friendly and the buffet was delicious. Ed ate far too much, but so did most everyone present, afterward sitting around on the deck groaning, drowsing, and watching the children chase each other and the dog.

Finally, on the drive home, Ed brought it up again. He said, gently but bluntly, “I’ve put on twenty-five pounds. I’m getting ... like ... huge.”

Paula reached over and patted his still-swollen belly, full of ham, potato salad, rolls, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, brownies, pound cake with ice cream, and at least a quart of iced tea. “You’re getting handsomer by the day.” 

She blushed. “Truth? The bigger you get, the handsomer you get. You have no idea how much I’m dying to have you just take me there on the bar at work.” 

She gently massaged his distended and aching tummy, poking gently at its tautness and patting it tenderly as if it were a pet dog.

“Handsomer, huh?” Ed said after a few miles.

“Handsomer.”

Another few miles passed. Ed sighed in something like satisfaction just as Paula said, “I have something to tell you.” 

Ed’s ears perked up. This was serious.

“Mmm?”

“I’m ... uh ... pregnant.”

_Continued in post 5 of this thread._


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## Tad (May 28, 2008)

Big Beautiful Dreamer said:


> [Paula said, I have something to tell you. Eds ears perked up. This was serious.
> 
> Mmm?
> 
> ...



You aren't just going to leave it there, are you???? That would be cruel and tortuous!


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## Big Beautiful Dreamer (Jun 2, 2008)

oh ... all right ...  Part Two posting shortly.


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## Phoenix (Jun 3, 2008)

I agree, too good to leave us hanging!


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## Big Beautiful Dreamer (Jun 9, 2008)

Ed scarcely remembered the drive home. He felt as though hed been clubbed over the head. Sounds came at a distant remove, as though his ears were filled with cotton. He knew that Paula cried part of the way home, and that she kept crying. Finally she bawled, Say something!

Eds lips parted and from a great distance he heard himself say, Like what? 
A trigger in the back of his mind immediately registered it as the wrong thing to say, but it was too late. A fresh flood of waterworks from Paulas soaked and swollen eyes.

I dont know what to do, she wailed.

I do. Hallelujah, he was back. 

I do. He cleared his throat and managed a weak smile. 

Do those words sound familiar?

She snuffled. Huh?

I said, I do. Ed was careful to emphasize the I, so it wouldnt sound too much like the wedding-vow response, but Paula had caught on and was looking at him with damp green eyes, looking like a wet kitten. A wet plump kitten.

His lips twitched. Marry me.

She gasped. 

Oh ... I cant ... right now? Oh ... no ... but she was scooching over to him and leaning her damp face into his broad shoulder and his arms were around her and she was making snuffling noises like ... well, like a baby rooting to be nursed.

Paula, utterly exhausted, fell immediately asleep. Ed eased her down onto the sofa and covered her with a light blanket, then sat up the rest of the night in the easy chair, thinking. Thinking.

In the morning, he was all decisiveness for the first time since Scott had fired him. 

Okay, he said over coffee, the command note in his voice making Paula giggle. Then, as she got a whiff of the coffee, her face turned light green and she bolted for the sink.

Whoops, Ed said, steadying her shoulders. Coffees a no-no, huh?

The smell, she gasped. Its rancid.

Ed took a sniff, then swallowed. 

Only to you, sweetie, he said apologetically.

Just ... get me a Coke.

Ed duly fetched a can from the fridge, and color returned to Paulas cheeks with the first deep swallow.

Settling your tummy?

Mmm. Yeah, Paula gasped, coming up for air. 

Now, what were you saying? She gave him her bright regard.

Online is a wonderful thing, he said. We can get married at the courthouse in only two weeks, if we get a move on.

But ... my parents... 

Well tell them afterward, Ed said firmly. Forgiveness is a lot easier than permission. And emphasize the grandchild on the way; that will cover a lot of ground.

With that Paula looked down and groaned aloud. 

Ill be covering a lot of ground, she mumbled. Im gonna be huge.

More of you to... Paula put a hand firmly over his mouth.

Dont. Do. Not. Say. It.

Mm-mm, Ed mumbled, and the hand was withdrawn.

It was surprisingly easy after that to obtain the blood tests, license, and rings. Eleven days after the fateful cookout, Ed and Paula said I do, Paula in a loose cream-colored shift, her face glowing, and Ed squeezed into his suit  his new suit  that had already become snug, the coat button straining. Afterward they went straight to Paulas parents house, braced for fireworks. Eds father had died several years ago and his mother, on the lookout for her fourth husband, was dismayingly blithe about the institution of matrimony and somewhere in Oregon. An e-mail would suffice.

The fireworks were milder than either one of them expected.

I didnt expect this of you, Kitten, her father said.

Um, I didnt either, Paula said, looking woebegone. Her mother sat down next to her and patted her hand. 

Well, she said briskly, cant unscramble the ... oh dear ... well, its done anyway. Wont you let us have a little party for you? We neednt tell anyone just exactly when you got married. 

Paula stared at her mother in undisguised admiration.

Go Mom, she said, shakily but with a smile dawning.

The teasing at work was far more prolonged, especially when they had to announce, only two weeks later, that Paula was expecting. While the female employees twittered, wide-eyed, around Paula, the male employees made heavy-handed jokes that only just managed to stay this side of crude. When they werent working, Paula was eating, or so it seemed to Ed. Groceries disappeared faster than in a house with a teenage boy, and he was constantly being sent for takeout  Chinese, mostly, but Paula also developed a taste for the burgers sold at a drive-through that was halfway across the city and open 24 hours. Ed began to find himself catching a nap before work.

That wasnt all he was catching. When he next donned the suit, for the baptism of a grandchild of friends of her parents, he was simply unable to fasten the button and, embarrassed, had to resort to a rubber band and a polo shirt and leave the jacket undone. Luckily, as warm as it was, he wasnt the only male opting for semi-casual attire. Once home, however, he groused to Paula, who giggled.

Whats so funny? He managed to bite back the adverb he once would have thrown in, having promised himself to break the habit of such language before the baby came.

Youre eating for two, Paula gasped out, pointing at his middle.

Ed silently shucked his clothes and plodded into the bathroom, stepping back for the unvarnished truth. There he could see that more than 25 pounds had adhered to his frame, most of it smack out in front, thank you genetics. Until his dad got sick, he had always looked as though he hauled a beach ball around under his T-shirt. Now he looked exactly the same, down to the hairline that, he suspected, would recede just so far and no farther, down to the new heaviness to his face, down to the hint of jowls and thickening chin, down to the new bulk to his arms that wasnt muscle exactly, down to the flab of his chest, and below that, like the Equator, was a thin red groove exactly around his expanding belly, showing where the pressure of his trousers and underpants had been. He let loose the expletive he had just suppressed, or at least a close relative.

How ... where ... he spluttered, then stopped, sinking down onto the edge of the tub. Hed devoured his share of takeout burgers and Chinese along with Paula, had been in the habit of sneaking some of whatever she was chowing down on at home, and it dawned on him that he really had been eating for two. With less excuse, but eating for two.

Then Paula, undressed herself, was guiding his hands up her belly toward her breasts, which were beginning to ripen and had a newly gravid feel to them, and then she traced her hands along his back and cupped his softening backside and he felt something stir.

Should we be doing this? he mumbled, but Paula was kissing him, hard, and he dimly heard, Its perfectly safe, and that was all he needed and then they were side by side on the bed and he was inside her and only vaguely aware of the feel of added heft to his belly and the pull and warmth of his new weight and hers and after that not much else mattered.

In the morning, though, after peeing he stepped on the scale, blinking drowsily at the number, which was all too clear and which read 240. Cripes. Hed weighed right around 210 when hed been canned, which means hed stacked on 30 pounds in the last six months, much of it going right out in front. Thirty pounds! How in the name of all that was holy had he gained thirty pounds? He knew how, of course. 

Im going on a diet, he said to the mirror. Surprisingly, these commonplace words evoked a surge of emotion from his hormone-laden bride.

Noooo, she wailed. She had awakened, sat up, and was crying, all in the space of a second or two. He sat heavily down on his side of the bed, making a face at the feel of how much the mattress responded to his bulk.

What in the world, he said blankly.

No, dont, dont, she cried desperately, as though hed just told her he was off to fight the Huns or something. He drew back and stared at her, beyond words.

Youre ... so ... handsome, she burbled out wetly. So ... big ... and strong ... and handsome ...

In an instant, his mind flashed back to that fateful Super Bowl party. 

Big handsome guy, Paula had said. 

Paula,

Mmm? She was now buried in his softening chest.

You like me ... big? he couldnt make himself say fat.

Mmmm. This noninformative sound was accompanied by an up-and-down of the head. He pushed himself gently away from her. He stared at her.

What?

Nobody likes ... he couldnt, he could not say fat guys.

Bull. She grabbed his wrists, gently. Lots of women like their men big and soft and strong and so on.

And so on? His lips twitched despite himself.

Mmm. She was back on his chest, then she sat up. He could tell by the look in her eye that the hormones had surged again and now she was on top of the world. Crap, please dont want to rearrange the furniture, he thought desperately. She was up and digging through her sewing basket, coming up with a tape measure.

Measure me. 

Silently he took the tape and threaded it around her waist. Thirty.

Of course, she said, we dont know how much of that is baby. 

She plucked the tape from his fingers. 

Dont suck in, she said absently. He exhaled and watched his growing belly protrude even further.

Ha. Thirty-seven, she said.

Okay. So?

She stepped back, chewing on her lower lip. I want your waist to be bigger than mine.

Um, it is?

No... she was crying again. What was it with those hormones? Like a roller coaster.

No, she was saying, tears rolling down her cheeks. I dont mean now. I mean in December.

Okay, fine, he said absently. Anything to stop the waterworks.

She sniffled. Really?

Really.

And keeping his word was easier than he thought... at first. Throughout the summer, though Paula gained 12 pounds, seemingly everything went straight into the womb, because her waistline inched up to only 32 inches. She wasnt even wearing maternity clothes yet and was getting irritatingly impatient about it. She was still eating everything that wasnt nailed down, though, which meant that Ed, not having the advantage of having his calories diverted, saw his waistline steadily thickening. By Labor Day, he was wearing 36-waist jeans, and after the Labor Day blowout at Paulas parents house, he found himself huffing for breath so much that as soon as they got in the car he undid the button and zipper, gasping with relief as he breathed without discomfort for the first time in an hour.

Ooh, someone has a full tummy, Paula said happily. She was wearing her first maternity outfit, though she really didnt need it, and Ed found himself aroused by watching the play of belly and breast, the roll and shift as she moved around in her seat. She poked at his bloated and distended gut, way too full of burgers, chips, and potato salad and sloshing with Coke, tripping her fingers along the ever-broadening circumference of a belly that now, he realized, ached, tugging and taut with way too much food.

Ow. Paula poked again. Stoppit. 

He took her fingers, gently, and lifted them away. I can hardly breathe, he puffed. Quit.

Oh, poor thing, Paula crooned.

They made it home, somehow, luck or grace or something, because Ed was dopey with satiation and barely remembered getting into the house and crashing into the easy chair, where he slept hard for an hour and woke up damp with perspiration.

Better? Paula was sitting on the sofa, feet up, a bowl of buttered popcorn on her belly.

Ed rubbed his gut, which was still stuffed but not actually aching. Mmm, he mumbled noncommittally, and with a grunt leaned over for a handful of the popcorn, which smelled too good to resist. He wasnt hungry, not at all, but popcorn was harmless, wasnt it? Practically a vegetable.

Paula looked down. Starting the second trimester.

Ding ding ding.

Paula smiled. This is where I get really big, she warned. Remember what you said?

Yeah. Yeah. How big could she get?

Ed found out.

Her waistline ballooned, inflating past his by the end of the month. He began consciously upping his intake, but she had an unfair advantage. The baby grew and Paula swelled. Abstractly he realized how appealing her changing body was. Not just her breasts, which had grown like ripening fruit, but the new sturdiness of her thighs, the way her weight made little upward-tilting love handles on her back, the swell and curve of her belly, especially the sloping dome it was becoming, the circumference, the topography of her navel, the creamy warmth of her broadening backside, but always and most especially the steady, relentless advance of her waistline, which now preceded her like the prow of a sailing ship.

Forty, he said flatly, releasing the tape. She beamed and tapped her belly, producing a hollow thunk. The thing was hard as a rock, which fascinated Ed. Now she was pulling the tape around him. 

Uh-uh, she warned. No pushing it out. Ed had to smile at that one. Once upon a time she had warned him against sucking it in.

Thirty-eight. Her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears.

Hey. Hey, he said urgently. Ill fix that. Right now. 

She sniffled as he picked up the phone and dialed the pizza place. 

The forty-five minute wait was made longer by Paulas sniffling. 

You promised, she said at least six times.

Look, he said patiently. I promise this will add at least two inches to my belly. He stood and pushed it out, coaxing a laugh from her. Then he sat down and held her hand. 

You know, he said. Youre gonna lose some of this, but Im not. You know Im gonna get a lot bigger, right?

I love big guys. Especially my own big guy, she snuffled into his shoulder. 

How many times do I have to... she broke off and sat up. Theyre teasing you at work.

Only a little, he said, forcing a smile. Chad thinks a guy who can intimidate by size is an asset.

Asset, huh?

Oops, he said, and the pizza was there. In those few seconds the hormones had seemingly surged again.

Bet you cant eat everything, she sing-songed. Something surged in Ed.

Oh yeah? Watch me, he mumbled, his mouth already full of hot cheese and sausage. Paula stared in admiration  the way, he remembered, she had stared at the Super Bowl party  as he munched his way methodically through an entire pizza and half of a two-liter bottle of Coke. He was getting full. His jeans were going to saw him in half; his belly pushed painfully against the restrictive denim of the overworked waistband. 

He felt sweat trickle down his neck and shifted uncomfortably in the easy chair. His midsection was straining, tugging at the sides and feeling heavy and warm. He paused and struggled with the button. He was already so full he could hardly suck in, or rather, when he did nothing moved. He finally got the jeans undone and slid a hand down the front of the waistband of his boxers. Ohhhh. Ooof. Stuffed to bursting. His belly was warm and heavy, feeling as though it was sagging under its own weight.

You cant be done, Paula sang.

Full, he grunted, feeling his face reddening. 

Come on, Ed bear, she coaxed. Come on. One more bite for Mama. 

Dang, one look at her green eyes and the way her hair brushed forward and the eyeful of pregnant wife and he was gone. No matter that he was so full he was puffing, no matter that he was ready to pop any second, he would do anything for Mama ... um, Paula ... and he opened up and she shoved the first slice of the second pizza in. He caught it and mechanically chewed and swallowed, the Coke helping the slice go down, and another and another. 

Finally, he waved a hand helplessly at Paula, fending off another slice. Hed downed a dozen plump slices and an entire two-liter bottle of Coke and he was in pain. God, was he stuffed. His belly protruded hugely, swelling into the air, his now-snug shirt tugged off a long time ago, jeans undone, distended and aching gut thrust upward. Very carefully and gently he poked at it. It was tight as a drum, no give at all, the skin stretched so tightly across his bloated abdomen that he thought he would pop like a balloon stuck with a pin. With an effort he looked down  he didnt have far to look. His gut filled his vision. He couldnt see his feet  heck, he couldnt see his knees. 

Paula was dangling the tape measure. Cmon, stand up.

Youre kidding, right? Ed grunted. He hiccupped sharply. Too full to move.

Paula pleaded and coaxed, and with an extraordinary amount of effort Ed hauled himself to his feet. His enormously distended belly was tender and sore and he wondered if his stomach muscles would give way and the thing would drop to his knees like a basketball dropping down a laundry chute. His back ached, his throat was raw, his cheeks and jaw ached, his head was swimming ... he didnt feel so good. Heat flashed across his face and he wondered if he was going to pass out from overeating.

Hurry, he croaked. Paula pulled the tape snug and announced, Forty-three. 

Dimly his brain registered that his belly had swelled by five full inches, although he knew that it was temporary. But all that mattered now was that Paula was happy again.


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## youngfeeder132 (Jun 29, 2008)

Love these pregnancy ones. This one is definitely one of my favorites of yours!


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