# After the Honeymoon - by Big Beautiful Dreamer (~BHM, Stuffing, ~~WG)



## Big Beautiful Dreamer (Mar 27, 2008)

_~BHM, Stuffing, ~~WG_ - A newlywed bride stuffs her teddy bear of a husband.

*After the Honeymoon*

*by Big Beautiful Dreamer*​

No. N-O, No, I groaned, sinking with relief into the recliner. I grunted with the effort as I got hold of the handle and pulled the chair back into full sprawl. 

I had never been so full in my life.

Natalie and I had been married all of two months when her familys reunion came around, and she had wanted to show off her shiny new husband. I had obliged, figuring I could stand anything for a few hours.

The eating began the minute we pulled up, at approximately 9 in the morning, as we were greeted in the driveway by her mother with a plate piled high with banana bread and chocolate almond bread. Inside, juices, coffee, tea, waited along with monkey bread, sugar cookies, homemade kolaches, and Danishes. We wandered around the house and yard, Natalie burbling over with excitement, and I quickly discovered that the easiest thing to do was just to keep my mouth full. It saved me from talking; all I had to do was smile and nod. 

So I smiled and nodded and snacked my way through the day, finishing up with what they called supper and I called an outdoor banquet. I lost track of how many times I piled my paper plate with fried chicken, macaroni, corn pudding, bean salad, deviled eggs, baked spaghetti, pasta salad, homemade bread-and-butter pickles, and huge plastic cups of iced tea, sweet and cold. By the time we finally made it to the car, I was so stuffed I was puffing, and Natalies mother still chased us down the driveway with a plate of brownies for later. I had tossed the keys to Natalie and we had made the twenty-minute drive from her aunt and uncles house in relative quiet, broken only by occasional groans and belches from the passenger seat.

Now we were in the house and I had finally undone my jeans, moaning aloud as I shoved the jeans and underwear to the floor and grunted my way into the recliner. My midriff was swollen and aching, a red groove marking where the waistband had been pinching it for hours. My belly sat heavy and warm on my lap, stretched and sagging, the skin pulled painfully taut over my distended gut, gorged with a disgraceful amount of home cooking.

And my bride was urging me to a romp in the bed.

No way, I repeated, a hiccup punctuating my pronouncement. I gingerly patted my bloated and protruding belly, which felt stuffed to the brim. (Hic!) Ate too much. I stifled a belch and kept my hand resting on my distended middle, feeling the gurgling and grumbling of a massive digestive effort inside my overloaded stomach.

Natalie pouted. Aw, come on. Youve never looked handsomer. Youre killing me here, she persisted.

Handsomer? (Hic!) I look ... (hic!) like ... a whale, I puffed, short of breath and with a stitch in my side.

Greg, come on, Natalie pleaded, tugging at my arm. I was pinned to the chair, solidly grounded by the weight of my warm and sated gut. She gave me the puppy look.

I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them. Jeez. All right, I mumbled. Even though (urrrp) ... Im too full ... to move (urp). I huffed and grunted my way to the handle again, wincing at the sloshing and churning that ensued, and pushed heavily on the arms of the chair, achieving a verticality that brought with it a new, throbbing, ache in my overburdened stomach.

Natalie giggled as she tugged off my shirt and I carefully lowered myself onto the bed. Natalie ... (hic!) ow ... I can hardly ... move, I mumbled.

Silly, she chided. You just lie still. Ill do everything.

Really? That was a first.

Obediently, I lay back. Natalie snuggled up to me, her hand slowly tracing random patterns on my mound of distended belly. She gently massaged my aching stomach, poked at my belly button, squeezed my sides, all the while murmuring in my ear endearments about how irresistible I was, how hot, how she was being driven wild. I was becoming aroused, but I was literally so stuffed that I didnt think I was up to any kind of moving around. I stroked her hair and back as I could reach them; and suddenly she was on top of me, which she claimed not to like.

She docked herself and slowly, steadily, rode me as I laced my hands through hers for balance and we moved our linked hands slowly and languidly through space. Occasionally she freed a hand and caressed my still-groaning belly, which, strangely, felt terrific.

When it was over, we lay snuggled together, and she resumed tracing her fingers along my damp and warmly stuffed midriff. Eventually we drifted off to sleep, and the next morning neither of us mentioned it.

That night, though, when I got home from work, Natalie was wearing nothing but a happy coat and was setting a huge dinner on the table. We usually ate takeout salads, but here was corn, lima beans, baked chicken, mashed potatoes (instant, she later confessed  my favorite kind), rolls, squash, and brownies.

Um, whats the occasion? I asked, a stab of concern rippling through me. Had I forgotten an important date?

Natalie beamed at me as I loosened my tie and dropped into the dining room chair.

No occasion, she said. I just thought it was time I started looking after you properly.

A dim and distant alarm sounded in my head. Properly? This was new to me. On the other hand, I was starved, and dinner smelled outrageously good. I piled my plate high and dove in.

After I cleaned my plate, I started to get up, to clear the table, but Natalie put a hand on my wrist. Dont you want seconds? she asked innocently.

Uh, sure, okay, I said, and sat back down. She heaped my plate up again. I thought Id best go with the program and slowly ate every bite, though I was getting full. Natalie stood and went into the kitchen, coming back with a cup of coffee and a plate with two big brownies on it. I was already pretty stuffed, my belly pressing outward, my waistband pinching, the belt suddenly far too tight. I thought I could feel the shirt buttons straining.

Natalie, I mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate  admittedly not the strongest position  what gives?

She shrugged. I just thought you deserved better than takeout salads and the occasional pizza.

Uh-uh. Something was up. Whatever it was, I would find out in time. I somehow shoved the last bite of brownie into my mouth and rested a hand on my full belly as I swallowed. After a feed like that, I was ready for the recliner and a good doze over SportsCenter.

Instead, Natalie was pulling me by my tie toward the bedroom.

Ouch, stop it, Im coming, Im coming. I plodded along, my stomach aching and my belt continuing its torture. All I wanted was to be undressed.

Wish granted, sort of. Natalie began to slowly and teasingly strip me. Oh, no. Light dawned.

Honey, not again, (hic!) Im stuffed, that dinner was great, but (urrp) ... I ate too much, I need (urp) ... a nap. I felt like a bear who had loaded up for hibernation: sleepy, warm, with a heavily sagging belly stretched tight with sustenance and ready to doze and digest. Slowly.

Natalie was deaf to my protests. 

What followed was a repeat of the night before. My sweet bride, who had always before waited for me to start things, was now the initiator. But what did all this have to do with feeding me like a condemned man?

It was not the best time to interrogate. For one, I was sated, half-asleep and conscious only of my aching and swollen belly. For another, Natalie was caressing and stroking and cuddling said belly, and points south, and despite my discomfort I was getting aroused. I decided that whatever it was could sort its own self out, and lay back to enjoy the ride.

After a solid week of coming home to the equivalent of Grandmas Sunday dinners, every night, followed by the mounting of the stuffed whale, every night, I was ready for some answers. I brought Natalie coffee in bed that Saturday and sat down, turning to face her.

Okay, babes, I said. Whats going on... Dont play innocent, I added as she started to turn on the puppy look. Youre stuffing me like a goose, then jumping me. Somethings up.

She giggled.

Something else is up, I clarified, smothering my own smile.

Natalie blushed and dropped her gaze to her coffee cup. A long silence followed. Finally she said, After that reunion, when we got home, you looked like ... a teddy bear.

I looked like Shamu, I said.

A teddy bear, she insisted. You were all warm and round and cuddly and I couldnt stand it. You were driving me crazy. I had to have some. And then ... um ... I thought ... maybe if you looked like a teddy bear again ...

By then I was sitting there, forgetting my coffee, staring at my wife. This had certainly not come up during the year we had dated. Or on the two-week honeymoon. 

She blushed again. I know it sounds weird.

Yes. Yes, it does, I said. Weve been together a year and a half and youre telling me you have a thing for fat guys?

No, she insisted, taking a gulp of coffee. No ... just ... the teddy bear tummy like you had after the reunion.

I snorted. Teddy bear tummy?

I dont know how else to describe it, she insisted. But I do know ... I love it. The puppy look came out full force. Please? Can we keep ... doing it?

Doing what? Getting stuffed to bursting every night? I dont think so! I sat up straighter and unconsciously sucked in my gut. Not unless you want me to outgrow the bed.

She shrank before my eyes, gaze veiled, shoulders drooping, curling in on herself in embarrassment and guilt. Ashamed of myself, I cupped her chin in my hand, lifted her face, and met her eyes.

Natalie. Im sorry. She mopped her eyes. Really. I am. If this is something you love, well find a way to make it happen. What about ... um ... once or twice a week or something?

Natalies eyes shone with the look that had captured my heart in the first place. Really?

Yes, really. I patted my stomach, which I was no longer attempting to hold in. Anything for my bride.

At the next years reunion, when we parked, it took a minute for both of us to get out of the car. Natalie was carrying 30 or so pounds of pregnancy, and as for me ... well ... I was carrying around a 40-pound teddy bear. And from the scents already emanating from the back yard, that teddy bear had a good chance of doing a little growing.


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## Tad (Mar 27, 2008)

Another sweet one


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## fat hiker (Mar 27, 2008)

Very nice, thanks!


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## Risible (Mar 28, 2008)

So short, so sweet - very nice, BBD!


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## billedmeup (Mar 31, 2008)

A very sweet story.


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