# Christmas Present - by Big Beautiful Dreamer (~BBW, ~BHM, Romance, ~~WG)



## Big Beautiful Dreamer (Sep 26, 2008)

_~BHM, Romance, ~~WG _- Freshman 15 plus Mom's home cooking!


*Christmas Present*

*by Big Beautiful Dreamer*​

Mam stepped back from her embrace and looked me over, her brow furrowing.

Owen, she clucked. Oh, youve lost weight.

No, Mam, I said dismissively, then heard myself and softened my voice. Im fine. Nothings changed. I submitted to another hug, then trudged wearily upstairs and thumped my suitcase onto the bed. Then I peeled off my coat and hat and inspected myself in the mirror.

Maybe my jeans were a little loose, but they werent falling off or anything. I kicked off my shoes and unpacked. 

Owen, dinners ready, Mam called. I hastily washed up and took my place, feeling my face turn hot as Huw and Penelope greeted me with teasing about being the big college man.

Has the first semester gone fast for you? Dad asked. I cant believe weve not seen you in three months.

Three and a half, corrected Mam. She heaped roast lamb and potatoes onto my plate.

Wow, lamb, I said. Whats the occasion?

Huw snickered and kicked me under the table. Youre the occasion, idiot.

Huw.

Sorry, Mam.

I didnt realise how fast I was plowing through dinner until I looked up to reach for more Brussels sprouts.

Good, is it? Dad looked at me and winked.

Take more lamb, Mam chided. And more potatoes. She took my plate out of my hand and heaped it up again. Oh, youre so thin, isnt it, she clucked.

The plate had a lot more on it when she finally handed it back, but it smelled so good, and I had really missed home cooking.

By the time I finally slowed down I felt as though Id eaten everything but the flowers off the plate and my tank was full. I took a slow deep breath, feeling my stomach push against the waistband of my jeans, which had been loose an hour ago. Had they shrunk?

Sated and dopey, I was dimly aware of Penelope clearing away the plates, and then Mam laid a big bowl on the table. I closed my eyes. 

Oi, sticky toffee pudding! Huw crowed, reaching for the spoon.

Huw! Mam batted his wrist. Owen first. 

Huw pretended to pout, but ceremoniously handed me the spoon. I groaned without thinking.

Saved room, I hope, Mam said.

I hadnt, but sticky toffee pudding with pecan toffee sauce was my favourite pudding and Mam knew it full well. I couldnt help it, I just had to have a taste. I put a larger helping than I meant to onto my pudding dish and Mam beamed.

I was full -- I was really full -- but that pudding looked and smelt so good, I wanted just a mouthful.

Of course, just a mouthful was followed by another and another and before I knew it I was scraping sauce off my plate. When I finally laid my spoon down, I pressed a hand to my belly. It was roundly bloated and tender. I felt it stretched tight against my shirt, and my jeans badly wanted undoing. Slowly, grunting with effort, I hauled myself up and followed Dad into the den.

I sank into the wing chair, clutching my swollen and aching stomach as it sloshed. I sat back with a loud hiccup.

Oof  okay, ate too much, I admitted. Hic. 

Dads lips twitched. He busied himself with filling his pipe. Your mother thinks youve lost weight at that college, isnt it, he said mildly. 

I hiccuped again. Hic! Not  not anymore. I was so full I was puffing. Trying to breathe was making my stomach hurt. My belly was already stretched so tight that every time I inhaled I thought it would pop. The last time I had been so full was when Huw had dared me to eat a whole apple pie. Id been ten. He was six. I was just young enough and stupid enough to try. I hadnt succeeded, of course, but Id made a decent dent.

Id expected that I would get into a load of trouble for it -- even as I stuffed myself I knew Mam was intending that pie for the vicar for tea -- but after I was sick in the bathtub, I think Mam decided Id suffered enough. I still remembered the weirdly triumphant sensation of discovering my limit and knowing I couldnt swallow another bite, and yet forking down some more anyway. 

I felt the same now. My stomach was groaning with too much food; even as I laid a hand protectively on its distention I could feel it churning and complaining. Without meaning to I let fly an enormous belch. I felt my ears grow hot with embarrassment.

Dad winked at me over his pipe. Had enough, there, champ?

Yeh Im going to bed, I mumbled. It was early, but I was so stuffed I was about to fall asleep in the chair. It took all the effort I had to haul myself back up out of the chair, and I was so full it hurt to stand up straight. Clutching my swollen stomach, lightheaded with calories, I dragged myself upstairs.

In the bedroom, I had to struggle to undo my jeans and push them off, then my underwear. The cool air on my hot and bulging stomach felt marvellous. I rubbed my belly, relieving the itching where my underwear had begun to pinch. Slowly, huffing with effort, I tugged off my shirt. Couldnt be bothered with the socks. They were too far away. I fell onto the bed, letting out a huge belch on impact.

I was so drowsy I thought Id cork off right away, but the discomfort of my achingly stuffed belly was keeping me awake. I shifted and wriggled, trying to find a position that didnt actively hurt, finally winding up on my side with my legs drawn up, cradling my swollen gut. At some point I fell asleep.

Mam let me sleep in; when I finally woke up, my mouth was dry and my head ached as though Id been drinking. I dragged on some clothes, ran my fingers through my hair, and plodded downstairs. There was a note on the kitchen table:

_Owen pet,

Dad and I are off to work and Huw and Pen are at school. Theres a plate of breakfast for you in the Frigidaire and bread and butter by the toaster, water in the kettle for tea. See you tonight._

Suddenly I was starving. I found the plate and peeled off the plastic wrap. Holy cow. There must have been three or four eggs scrambled there, nearly a rasher of bacon, and a big bowl of tinned grapefruit sections. I popped the plate in the microwave, started some toast, got some tea going and began on the grapefruit. 

By the time Id done with the sports section of the Western Mail, the grapefruit was history, along with four slices of toast and jam and half the bacon and eggs. The first section saw an end to the rest of the bacon and eggs and two more cups of tea.

I stood up and stretched, groaning loudly. My shirt surprised me by sliding up, making my belly cold in the morning air. (Okay, nearly midday air.) I glanced down. My belly, full of breakfast, was bulging roundly, not nearly as big as last night, but full nonetheless. I felt warm, drowsy, and thoroughly pleased that it was Christmas holidays and I had absolutely nothing I had to do today.

I was so pleased that I did the washing up, which made me feel virtuous, then stretched out on the sofa and clicked on the television. I rubbed my stomach absently from time to time while dozing and half watching morning programmes, game shows, midday news. My stomach growling loudly woke me up. I took myself to the McDonalds and downed a huge burger and fries, which called for another nap. Eventually I would have to find myself something to do so that when Mam and Dad asked about my day I would have a more productive answer than nothing.

Dinner was slightly less spectacular than the night before, but still outstanding. Mam kept piling my plate up and chiding me about being skin and bones.

Youre gonna get fat, Pen chanted, smirking at me while pushing food around her plate. Pen was fifteen and weighed all of about seven stone. 

Hush, Pen, Mam said, her automatic reply to that tone of voice, regardless of which of us it came from. They hardly feed Owen at that college, isnt it. We have to build him up. Finally she handed my plate back. By now I was stuffed, but I had to admit it all tasted so good I wanted just a little more. Midway through what might have been my third plateful, I quietly undid my jeans, which was just as well, because after dinner Mam brought out bread and butter pudding, another favourite of mine, and I ate a lot more than I should have.

I opened my mouth to tell Mam how good it had been but only hiccuped.

Told you, Pen said instantly. 

Hush, Pen.

As before, Dad and I settled in to digest. Dad put the television on a car chase flick. I barely watched -- luckily there was no plot to follow -- and dozed, cradling my aching belly. By the time I dragged myself upstairs, I was two-thirds asleep and my stomach looked like Id swallowed a cannonball. Felt like it, too. 

I got as far as dragging my shirt off and undoing my jeans before I crashed onto the bed. This time I pulled myself onto my side immediately and was asleep in seconds.

The next morning, getting dressed, I noticed that my jeans were a trifle snug. Hadnt they been loose? Shrugging, I finished dressing and went down to the kitchen. Since it was Saturday, Mam was there making crempoga. I absolutely loved the pancakes layered with salted butter; my mouth started to water as soon as I saw them.

One by one, Huw and Pen straggled down. Dad refilled his tea cup and winked at me. Pen ate one crempog and bolted out to meet her friends.

When I clattered my fork onto my plate after the first round, Huw shot me a look.

How many can you eat? he challenged.

Boys, Mam said half-heartedly.

Bring it on, I said to Huw. 

I lost count -- I think Huw did, too -- but I know we each ate a pile of them. By the time Mam finally announced that she was out of batter and there were no more forthcoming, I was just as glad. I got up and groaningly stretched, unknotting my back and shoulders and reveling in the warmth and heaviness of my swollen belly. Huw, I was pleased to see, was looking a little green and went back to his room. I lay down on the sofa to sleep off breakfast.

I must have really fallen asleep, because here was Dad shaking me awake. Charlotte Evans is here to see you, he said, with a wink. 

Good grief. Charlotte and I had been pals in school, but Id scarcely thought of her since June.

I got up, scrubbing my face with my hands, and padded to the front hall, where Charlotte stood, hands behind her back, rocking on her heels the way she did. Had she always been this pretty? Her dark brown hair spilled over her shoulders and fell into her heart-shaped face. She smiled at the sight of me and those dimples popped out, studding her apple cheeks. She wore a dark green shirt that clung to her generous curves and jeans that fitted her very well indeed, thank you. To my surprise, she launched a hug at me.

Owen! The muffled voice came from against my chest. Mf mmble go wggn!

She came up for air. Its so good to see you!

Hey. Charlotte. Good to see you. I paused, my brain racing. Do something with her, idiot. Ah. Erm. Would you like to go to McDonalds?

Love to, she said instantly. Dad, who had been hovering, handed me the car keys.

After a few minutes of awkwardness, we reconnected and chatted easily about school, home, and mutual friends. At the restaurant, Charlotte got only coffee, saying with a pretty blush, Ive eaten. I thought about just getting coffee myself, but my stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. 

But you havent, she said brightly. Go on, eat. I thought about the huge breakfast Id had. But that had been a while ago. 

Half an hour later, I was toying with the remains of two large cups of chips, which had accompanied two extremely large burgers, of which there now was no trace. I had drained the 32-ounce Coke dry and topped the whole deal off with two turnovers. Id effectively eaten my lunch and hers.

I tried to stifle a belch and failed. Scuse me, I mumbled, turning red.

Impressive, Charlotte said cheerfully. She got up from her side of the table and sat down next to me. Then she did something I could not have predicted. She patted my middle, which was bloated and hard as a rock. Ooh, very impressive. She patted some more. Nice teddy bear.

Excuse me? What was going on and would someone like to clue me in? 

Its gotten nice out, she observed. Want to go sit in the park?

Fine with me. I hauled myself to my feet, with another belch, which earned me another tummy pat, and hand in hand we strolled companionably toward the park, where we sat on a bench and looked out over bare trees against the impossibly blue sky.

Charlotte kept a hand on my aching belly, occasionally rubbing or patting it. Youve gotten so handsome since you went to school, she said.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

No, really. Were you ever this cute?

Prince Charming, thats me, I joked.

We talked for another hour at least before it grew chill. Reluctantly we stood. Come by tomorrow, I said suddenly. Well 

Go back to McDonalds, Charlotte said.

And thus it was that I found something to do in the Christmas holidays. I ate  I napped  I spent time with Charlotte  and discovered how special this girl was whom I thought Id known for years. 

On Christmas Eve, we met in the afternoon at a coffee shop and I gave her a pair of gloves and matching muffler. It sounds mundane, I know, but Id seen them in the shop window and they were calling her name. The muffler was the color of the ocean in winter, hand knitted with openwork ends and lightly studded with tiny diamonds. The gloves had the same openwork on the cuffs, also studded with diamonds. Charlotte gasped when she opened the box, then laid a long lingering kiss on me.

Open yours, open yours, she said, immediately winding the muffler round her neck. So I did. It was  a cookbook? Cooking for One on a Uni Budget, was the title. I smiled, then the smile became a grin.

Charlotte Evans, youre trying to make me fat. It was a joke, of course. Of course it was a joke. But Charlotte turned pink and looked down.

Youre so  handsome  with that soft warm tummy of yours  she mumbled.

Oh. 

I let the subject drop. We both had to part company to get home for Christmas dinner.

Well. Christmas dinner. Roast lamb, scalloped potatoes, mash, Brussels sprouts, leek soup, bara brith, hearth bread and lemon curd, turnips, spinach pie, the table barely had room for our plates on account of all the food. We ate and ate and then ate some more. I could feel my stomach stretching with every bite. I undid my jeans at one point. Didnt help. My distended belly was brushing against the tablecloth. I shifted in my chair, trying to bring some balance to my discomfort, but at the same time the warm heaviness of my gut resting roundly on my lap felt comforting and primally safe. I had stocked up for the long winter.

Then Mam brought out a huge plum pudding, Pen following with a dish of hard sauce. Oh boy.

I scooped out a disgracefully large serving and poured hard sauce generously over it. Dad winked. I dug in. I was already stuffed, full to bursting, but who could resist plum pudding?

Later, Dad and Huw and I sprawled, the telly on some sports match. We all had our trousers undone and our heads tipped back. There wasnt much conversation, mostly groaning.

Should have passed  on that last  bit of pudding, Dad said, puffing.

Hic! Should have  hic! passed on  hic! any pudding, I added. I was so full it hurt to breathe. I was sure my aching belly, protruding straight out in front of me, would burst with each attempt.

Huw only belched. Ohhhh.

Slowly, the evening passed. We all got ourselves up and smartened up for church.

The next day, there was no set breakfast, only coffee round the tree as we opened presents. Of course, we all nibbled on Welsh cakes and leftover bara brith. At midday we sat down to big bowls of cawl, which Mam always claimed to like better than Christmas dinner because it was less work. 

After a day or two, Charlotte and I fitted comfortably back into what had become our holiday routine, spending hours together every day. Toward the end of the holidays, a few days before I had to go back, she dragged me shopping because I had incautiously griped that my jeans were shrinking.

Shrinking was an understatement. I was avoiding the scale but I knew Id put on nearly a stone, and it was all going to my belly. Once reasonably flat, my midsection now hung over the waistband of my jeans and stretched my shirts. Looking at myself in my underwear in the dressing room was depressing. But then Charlotte was whispering in my ear about teddy bears and feeding me a huge cinnamon bun bite by gooey delicious bite, and then Chinese food, and coffee after, and patting my full stomach as we strolled and window shopped.

I have wonderful news, she murmured as we sat on a bench and rested our feet. Ive got a job!

No kidding! Where?

Thats the wonderful news, she said, snuggling her head onto my chest. In the language department at your uni there. We can see each other every day.

As soon as I can palm off my roommate we can see each other more often than that.

Owen! That earned me a poke, but also a kiss.

And thats what happened. We officially did the deed a week ago, in the registry office, which Mam fussed over for a while, then recovered. Im officially halfway through uni, and Charlottes started taking a few courses in the art department. She likes the pottery. 

And as for that holiday belly? Its rather bigger, now  but Charlotte says she likes it that way.


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## fatmac (Sep 26, 2008)

another cute story to make us fatties feel so wanted.

Thanks
Mac


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## Ichida (Sep 26, 2008)

Yummy...that story was like icecream...great but gone too soon and craving more!


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## lizzy (Sep 28, 2008)

And a wonderful Christmas present you've given us here. Thank you.:eat2:


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## Risible (Sep 30, 2008)

Interesting British twist to this romance, BBD.


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