Big Beautiful Dreamer
ridiculously contented
~BHM, ~BBW, Romance, ~~WG - There are more ups than downs in this relationship between two college students.
Erik sank into a seat in the lecture hall and suppressed a grimace. Starving when he woke up, he had downed a huge breakfast and now his stomach ached. He felt as though he had swallowed a medicine ball.
Hi. The bright voice in his ear shook him out of his funk. He glanced, then did a double take. Instead of Trip, who always cracked his knuckles, there was the pretty redhead who usually sat one row ahead. With an effort, he recalled her name.
Mary Helen. Hi, he said, and smiled. Unconsciously he straightened up and tried to suck in his bulging belly. Mary Helen flicked a quick smile and lowered her gaze.
Class dragged out, three long hours. Erik fought to keep his eyelids hoisted. Finally the clock clunked to noon. Erik gathered his courage.
Hey -- want to grab some lunch?
Again the quick flash of smile. Sure.
They crossed campus and made their way to Guidos, the pizzeria that catered to students, and ordered a large sausage-and-onion and large Cokes. Mary Helen looked wistful.
Pop is bad for my figure, she groaned.
Erik eyed her appreciatively as they hunted for a table.
I think you have a great figure, he said truthfully. It was true. In addition to dark red hair, Mary Helen had tempting round handfuls of breasts, a slender, if slightly softened, waist, and a round high bottom.
For all her stated concern, Mary Helen dived enthusiastically into her pizza. The sight and smell of the stuff triggered Eriks appetite, now roaring after three hours of class, so that two big slices disappeared from his plate very quickly along with half the cup of pop.
Once their initial hunger had been eased, both slowed down. Mary Helen said no more about her figure. Instead they talked about, what else, school.
I taught for five years, Mary Helen said, biting into the tip of her third slice. Mmmm. But I knew I wanted to get into curriculum development, so I thought that it would be good to have a masters in education.
Erik nodded and wiped his mouth. Hed had four slices already and was getting full. More or less the same here, he said. I taught for eight years and Ive really started to want to get into administration. If I had my druthers, he reached out, hesitated, and picked up the last slice, ten years from now I could see myself as the headmaster of a small school.
Mary Helens eyes widened. Oh, that sounds hic! sounds nice. Scuse me, she said. She pulled on her Coke, then shook the cup, now empty. Erik did the same with his. Without any discussion, they split the bill. Erik held the door and followed Mary Helen out. The guy with the ice cream cart was there today, unsurprisingly, as the day had gotten warm.
Hey, want some? Erik was fishing out his wallet.
Mary Helen shook her head, her hand pressed to a cutely bulging tummy. I shouldnt. Im stuffed, she said ruefully. Hic! See?
Erik grinned. Well, I sure will, he said. Two scoops of vanilla caramel, please. He turned to Mary Helen. Love ice cream. Love it.
Oh, that does look good. She sighed. Oh okay. She chose a strawberry cone. Contentedly they strolled, the sun warming their backs, and licked the cold sweet treats. At last they sat down on a bench outside the library and licked their sticky fingers.
Just as well I dont have class this afternoon, Erik groaned. I have some reading to do, but right now I need oh-oh-ohh a nap. He yawned hugely.
I do have class. Mary Helen stood and stretched, her top riding up and displaying a tummy taut with pizza, pop, and ice cream. Oh she also yawned. Ill have to sit in the back in case I nod off.
Erik patted her shoulder. Good luck.
Thanks. See ya.
Erik walked slowly back to his dorm and unlocked the door to his room, a small one-bedroom suite with a shared kitchen and bathroom down the hall.
He pushed open the door to the tiny bedroom part, kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt. He dropped it in the laundry basket and caught sight of himself in the mirror on the closet door. His chest and arms were fine, muscled as a result of daily morning workouts in the small workout room in the basement, but his belly bulged, swelling tautly out below his ribs. Five huge slices of pizza, a quart of pop, and a double scoop of ice cream were all piled into his now aching and roundly distended stomach. He flexed his biceps and thumped his gorged gut. He belched hugely, losing his balance for a second.
Whoa, he said aloud, and looked again. Another belch. Me fat, he said in a Tarzan voice, then yawned again. Suddenly he couldnt keep his eyes open. He fell onto his bed and was immediately sound asleep.
Now that they had gotten to know each other, Erik and Mary Helen found themselves running into each other in the library, by the mailboxes, and of course in the classes they had together. Lunch at Guidos quickly became a weekly routine, a treat after three hours in a lecture hall. They were adventurous eaters and delighted in trying different toppings, and Erik took to keeping ice cream in his dorm refrigerator in case the guy with the cart wasnt out. Study breaks had to be supplemented by snacks, and Saturday morning meant lingering over coffee at the pancake house.
By Thanksgiving break, Eriks jeans were telling of a perceptibly thickening waistline. They were getting increasingly snug, and quite often during their pizza dates, he would have to undo the button. Mary Helen, too, was becoming fuller in the face and breasts, and her low-slung jeans were clasped around a softening tummy. Sometimes when they were in bed together, Erik would blow a raspberry on her navel, making her shake with laughter.
Erik invited Mary Helen home for Thanksgiving; she lived across the country and hadnt planned to go to her family. On the drive, she was uncharacteristically quiet, but Erik understood. He tried to reassure her.
My folks are really laid back, he said. They were 70s suburban liberals.
Mary Helen giggled weakly.
Sure enough, Eriks parents were welcoming without being overpowering, and Eriks older brother had brought his fiancée, so everyone was geared for adjustments in family dynamics anyway. Their younger sister was just glad to have other girls around and they quickly scooted off to the mall.
Erik, Scott, and their dad sat and caught up, watching football and snacking on nibbles. The female contingent came back just in time for homemade lasagna, salad, and breadsticks. It was so good to encounter Moms cooking again that Erik plowed through two huge servings. Mary Helen was more restrained, although she clearly enjoyed it.
Now come on, Mom said, urging more on everyone. I dont have any room for leftovers in the fridge. That turkeys taking up a lot of space.
Scott suppressed a belch. So am I, he said, making everyone laugh.
After coffee and time for digestion, Dad brought out Trivial Pursuit, making for a lively evening, men against women. The women skunked the men, but it was all in good humor.
The next day was all about the kitchen. Eriks mom loved to cook, and their otherwise modest house featured a large kitchen/dining room with a granite-topped island.
I got this, and he never has to take me on a cruise, Eriks mom explained to Mary Helen, whom she put to work chopping celery for stuffing.
Eriks dad was making his famous cranberry-orange relish, which required much getting in the way, and would later make his ranch-dill mashed potatoes. Erik wandered in and out sneaking tastes of anything he could get away with.
Dinner was served about four oclock, which meant by then everyone was starved despite a pickup lunch of sandwiches and chips.
Oh, boy, Erik said, and rubbed his hands. No one had yet mentioned his modest spare tire. He piled his plate high -- he was a proponent of the stacked flavor combination approach -- and dived in. So did everyone else.
After first helpings were devoured, and people started going for seconds on their favorites, conversation picked up. Mary Helen gained points for being able to discuss football with passion, if limited understanding.
After two huge platefuls, Erik was beginning to slow down, but so much of the food was so good and only appeared a couple of times a year, and he really wanted more cranberry-orange relish and sweet potato casserole and he might as well finish off the stuffing and a little more dark meat and gravy needed a crescent roll to mop that up
Finally he had to admit defeat. He leaned back a little and mopped his face with the cloth napkin, and as he did he felt his gorged belly brush the edge of the tablecloth. He rested a hand on it, surprised at how far it was protruding, and as he tried to draw a deep breath he only hiccupped. With the others, he slowly pulled himself to his feet, cradling his bloated abdomen as he did, and plodded dopily through to the den with Scott and Dad.
He sank onto the sofa, still clutching his tautly distended belly, and only just realizing how stuffed he was. His sides felt stretched and tender and he was short of breath.
Whoa, he said, puffing. Hic!
Dad smiled and patted his own stomach, which was usually flat, but which now bulged roundly out below his sweater. Full tank, he said, suppressing a belch.
Scott was sprawled in the club chair, his jeans unbuttoned and his normally chiseled abs -- he worked out a lot -- swollen and round. He looked to be nearly asleep.
This girl seems very nice, Erik, Dad said, lighting his annual cigar.
Erik inhaled and hiccupped again. Ow. Yeah, she is, he said. Shes hic! interested in curriculum development. He pressed a hand to his protruding stomach, firm and immobile. Im interested in digestion. Hic.
Dad blew a smoke ring and belched gently. I might or might not fall asleep, he said meditatively.
Scotts ohh beat you to it, Erik said through a yawn. He stretched, groaning loudly as his shirt rode up, exposing a bloated belly pushing decisively against snug jeans. He felt warm, drowsy, and achingly sated and wanted nothing more than to drift semiconscious through the evening. Dad clicked on a football game and Mary Helen came in and sat on the sofa, watching and cheering along with the guys. Her lavender cashmere sweater was stretched over a roundly full stomach, and as she shifted position from time to time the play of the geography of her midsection fascinated Erik. It was certainly more amusing to watch than the football game, which was slow-moving and low-scoring.
The weekend unfolded in relaxation and lots of eating, and Mary Helen hit it off with Eriks family; she was cheerfully enthusiastic all the way back to school. But with Thanksgiving break over, it was time for the three-week sprint to end of term. Both buried themselves in term papers and exams, studying together diligently although when two or more are studying together, there snacks will also be and by the time Christmas break came around, Erik was grousing to Mary Helen that he was starting to resemble Santa Claus.
Shh, she said, laying her head on his shoulder and sliding a hand up and down his thickening midsection. I think you are very, very handsome. She pulled back and looked him in the eye. And my parents will like you.
Maam, yes maam, Erik said, and saluted smartly. The plan was for them to drive separately to Mary Helens parents house, and for Erik to have a weekend there before continuing home.
Erik was polite, charming, and clean, but Mary Helens parents were much more restrained. Maybe it had to do with having a lot more money, Erik thought. Their home was tasteful, almost unlived-in looking, and meals were approached as a penance: small, almost reluctant spoonfuls of unappetizing food cooked as plainly as possible. Butter, sauce, even herbs were seemingly banned from the house. During an early-morning walk that Saturday, Mary Helen apologized.
They both come from families were it was thought rude to display your feelings because it made others uncomfortable, she said. Mother has no doubt noticed that Ive packed on the graduate version of the freshman fifteen, but she wont say a word because that would be gauche. But Ive seen her eyeing my waistline.
Erik slid his arm around it. And a lovely waistline it is, he said warmly. Dont even think of paring it down. I love you just the way you are.
Mary Helen leaned into his embrace and rested a hand on his warm sweatered paunch. You too, she said. Youre my teddy bear.
Erik started singing, Elvis-like, and Mary Helen started laughing so hard they had to stop and lean against a tree to recover.
The weekend at Mary Helens finally limped to a close and Erik escaped to the warmer welcome of his own parents house. His sister, Heather, and Scotts fiancee, Diane, expressed disappointment at the absence of Mary Helen, but Erik was quickly forgiven when he quietly stepped in and washed up the dishes from Heather and Dianes batch of homemade brownies. As usual, the house was awash in Christmas treats, all of which disappeared with dispatch: honey-walnut balls, pinwheel cookies, pfeffernuesse, tea cakes, chocolate peanut clusters and yogurt pretzels, brandy balls, sausage balls, honey-dipped cashews -- there was always a plate or tin of something available, and Erik happily availed.
After about a week, Erik inadvertently grunted one morning while hunting for the creamer in the crowded fridge, and as he straightened up, Mom gave him her level gaze.
You look a lot healthier these days, she said finally.
Eriks lips twitched. Ive put on some weight, Mom, he said. Graduate school is a combination of stress and quick meals. He took a deep swallow of coffee. Mary Helen doesnt mind.
Youre still working out, Mom said uncertainly.
Every morning. With his free hand, Erik made a biceps pose and growled. Mom smiled, and the subject was dropped. Erik was relieved to have gotten off so lightly, but after all, he was something of an adult and it was his lookout, he supposed. Doubtless it was yet another reason for Mary Helens parents to disapprove.
By Christmas Eve, though, Eriks favorite jeans were dangerously snug. He tugged them back off and reluctantly stepped on the scale, old but reliable, in the upstairs bathroom. The needle swung to a stop on 212, a gain of twenty-two pounds since May. Erik stepped over to the mirror and looked himself over. Yup. That was a growing midsection, all right. His face was becoming fuller and his chin softening, but most of his weight was going to his belly, a consequence in part of workouts that demanded a lot of his legs and chest and arms but that avoided situps and ab crunches as the invention of the devil. Then he shrugged. Mary Helen was happy. He was okay with it, he decided. Maybe hed go on a diet after Christmas.
Jeans that begin a Christmas dinner dangerously snug are unlikely to hold up through the evening. After two large helpings of everything, Erik reached under the table, and under his swelling belly, and undid the button and eased the zipper down. Ah, there, that was slightly better. He hiccupped quietly and refilled his plate.
After thirds on cranberry sauce, orange-nut bread, cranberry-orange relish, mashed potatoes, dark meat and gravy, and sweet potato casserole, Erik paused to take stock. His stomach was becoming painfully stretched, and was starting to ache, but he really, really wanted just one more taste of a couple of things. After a long survey of the remains on the table, he decided it was his duty to finish up the sweet potato casserole and the basket of crescent rolls. Slowly slowly bite by warm bite he polished off his fourth helpings and drained his glass. By now his gorged and distended abdomen was not just brushing the edge of the table but pushing against it.
With an effort, Erik braced his hands on the table and slowly hauled himself to his feet. His hugely overloaded belly, aching and stretched, had ballooned, protruding through the opening of his undone jeans and visible below the straining hem of his shirt. Quickly he tugged the shirt down, in vain, but no one appeared to notice. Off balance with the weight of his sloshing gut and lightheaded with sugar, fat, and carbs, he waddled slowly into the den and sank onto the sofa. There he leaned back and rested his hands on his swollen belly. The short walk had left him breathless and he found that it hurt less to breathe through his mouth. Definitely he would cut back after today.
Somehow, when the pumpkin pie and ice cream were passed around later, he found space for two large slices.
Since his parents house didnt come equipped with a workout room, Erik found it easier just to sleep in in the mornings. And there were still many tins and plates of treats lying around like friendly, chocolate-covered land mines. Erik endured the marathon of after-Christmas sales with Diane and Heather and picked up several pairs of pants that were a little more forgiving in the waist. After all, at sale prices, they would do until he lost the pounds.
The drive back seemed really long without company in the car. Finally back in his dorm room, he was half asleep in the recliner when someone burst in, startling him awake. Then Mary Helen was flying at him and tugging him to his feet and hugging the breath out of him.
Uh, hi, he finally managed. She giggled, then stepped back.
New sweater, she said, modeling it for him. Oh, gosh, have I ever missed you! A whole month in the mausoleum! I thought I would die.
Im even gladder to see you than I am to see your new sweater. Its pretty, though, Erik said. The sweater fitted snugly over her curves, including the new and unmistakable arc of her tummy and her unmistakably larger breasts. Those were new jeans, too, and as Mary Helen turned this way and that, Erik saw the lush ripeness of her softening backside and fuller thighs.
The sweater didnt stay on very long.
A few weeks into the new semester, Erik, deep in the library stacks, overheard a couple of classmates talking.
You know Erik Bansemer, one said. Hes kinda tall dark hair used to be really cute.
The one with glasses? the other asked uncertainly.
No. The fat one. I dont know whats going on, but hes porked up big time, the first one said. Like I said, he used to be cute. Goes around with Mary Helen Havener. Shes put on weight, too.
Maybe they bake cookies together, the other said, and, giggling, they moved down the stacks out of earshot.
Erik stood frozen with his hand on the book he had been going to take from the shelves. Used to be cute. Porked up big time. And to insult his girlfriend like that! He was tempted to confront them, but even as he thought it, he knew he wouldnt. Still, he was grouchy and out of sorts all afternoon.
The next day, fate having placed them in a weekly three-hour class again this semester, Erik followed Mary Helen slowly over to Guidos. When the pizza was ready, though, he gazed at it and swallowed some Diet Coke but didnt pick up a slice.
Whats wrong, sweetie? Mary Helens green eyes were limpid with concern.
Erik took a deep breath. I came back from Christmas break weighing more than 220 pounds. At the end of last year, in May that is, I was 190. Ive put on thirty pounds in six months. Eight months. He slapped his distinct paunch. Im a big fat hog.
Mary Helen put down her slice and her gaze dropped to the plate. Erik could see tears pooling. Valiantly she took several deep pulls from her cup of pop. Ive put on twenty pounds, she said. I can feel some of the others staring at me. I dont think Im imagining it.
Erik wasnt about to report the conversation hed overheard. I think you get more beautiful every day, he said truthfully.
Mary Helen sniffled. My new sweaters already too tight.
The one youre wearing right this minute? No its not. Its just exactly right. Youre not supposed to drown in your clothes, you know.
Mary Helen looked at him. Im fat, arent I?
No, Erik said, but even he heard the weakness in his voice. Mary Helen picked up her purse and headed for the door.
Mary Helen sweetie wait, Erik pleaded. She shook off his hand and kept walking, eyes on the ground.
Just give me a little time, okay, she said over her shoulder.
It was impossible to avoid someone in the same graduate program, but a thoroughly bewildered Erik found that Mary Helen was a master of what used to be called the Cut Direct. She would meet his gaze in the lecture hall or library, then look right past him.
Ice cream, pizza, snacks lost their appeal, but Erik found his hand deep in a bag of chips or cheese puffs anyway. He overslept and had to skip his workout more often and kept finding himself falling asleep on the sofa by 9:00. He watched his waistline thicken and his belly broaden and couldnt make himself care.
Mary Helen apparently threw herself into a punitive diet. Weight fell off her. From a distance, Erik could see her appealingly soft bottom and round tummy shrivel. The compliments she was apparently getting from classmates spurred her on. She passed slender and was becoming visibly skinny, elbows and hipbones protruding.
It was in the library stacks, again, that Erik heard something he would rather not have heard.
in the infirmary, one female voice said.
Whats wrong with her? Whyd she faint in class?
I dont know. I heard someone say anorexia.
Well, to be honest, she could have used a little, the second voice said derisively.
It could have been anybody. Erik knew in his ballooning gut that it was Mary Helen. He strode out of the library and headed for the health center.
Um, hi, he said tentatively, peeking around the curtained screen.
Mary Helen looked at him blankly. Hi, Erik, she said.
Erik sat down on the chair next to the cot. How are you feeling?
Im fine. I really dont need to be in here. Even with the sheet covering her, Erik could see that Mary Helen was too thin. Her face was drawn, skin tight over sharp cheekbones. She looked more like her mother now, a comparison Erik didnt much care for. He could see the outline of her rib cage and concave belly. If he tried to blow a raspberry on her belly button now hed probably hurt her.
He gulped. Is it true youre not eating?
No, she said, hurt. I eat.
What do you eat?
None of your business, she snapped, then tears welled up.
Erik reached over and handed her a tissue from the box on the table by the cot. It is my business, he said softly. I love you. Im miserable without you. And I care very much that youre making yourself miserable.
Im not miserable, Mary Helen garbled through tears and a nose blow. Ib fide.
Oh, yeah. Fine.
Mary Helen glanced wetly at him. Okay. Ib dot fide. She blew her nose again and cleared her throat. I eat, she said, absently shredding the tissue. I eat a hard boiled egg every morning, a banana and a chicken breast and leaf lettuce every afternoon, and a cup of soup every night.
Erik choked. Thats not enough to keep a 1-year-old going, he said with an edge to his voice.
Thats what the nurse told me, Mary Helen said. She said I have to gain five pounds before shell let me out of here, and I have to come back here every week for a check-up. Im not allowed to go below 130 or shell put me in the hospital.
Eriks lips twitched. He couldnt help himself. Mary Helen would either laugh or throw something at him. Maybe you could schedule your check-up for every week after Guidos.
She looked away, then met his gaze, then looked away again. You know, she said slowly, I do kind of want a sausage-and-onion.
Eriks grin split his face. Lets work on getting you out of here.
Once Mary Helen had decided to eat like a normal person again, the weight bounded back as though it had been waiting impatiently offstage. From 95 pounds on her once-curvy 56 frame, she gained the five pounds needed to be liberated from the infirmary; after that, with Eriks help, she rediscovered the pleasure in eating, especially when shared. It took some time for her shrunken stomach to stretch enough, but by spring break, she was back up to three slices-plus a quart of pop-plus ice cream each week at Guidos, and they ate dinner together every night. It was more than a cup of soup.
As a pre-graduation present, Mary Helens parents had staked her to a week at their beach house and even granted permission for Erik to be there.
For once, Mary Helen proclaimed, I am gonna look great in a bikini!
If we go swimming at midnight, Erik teased, we can, um hed been going to say skinny dip, but while Mary Helen had gone from 160 to 90 and then back up, she was still only at 130. Erik, on the other hand, had fed his breakup-fueled funk literally and now tipped the scales at 240.
Mary Helen stopped packing and came around the bed, snuggling against his broad chest for an embrace. I love you, she murmured, sliding her hand up and down his pot, where most of the weight seemed to be going. She tipped her face up and traced under his double chin, then pressed a finger to his full lips. He kissed.
Packing got slightly delayed.
Somehow, Erik felt as though something was slightly out of sync about their intimacy. It wasnt the time theyd spent apart; her body felt different. Erik realized he missed the cushion of a padded tummy and the ripe overabundance of her larger breasts. Hmm.
On the way to the beach, after a ritual stop at her parents to pick up the keys and express gratitude, Erik cleared his throat. I want this to be a really relaxing week for you, he said. I want you to really enjoy yourself. Let me do all the cooking.
Oh, Erik, really?
Really.
True to form, Eriks parents had not said a work either about Mary Helens altered figure or Eriks visible gain. Those were some poker faces, Erik had thought.
Erik kept his word. He made lasagna, shrimp scampi, enormous blueberry muffins, creamy, cheese-filled omelets, even brownies loaded with butter and chocolate syrup. He brought her breakfast in bed every morning and insisted on feeding her. He carried Dagwood sandwiches with mountains of chips to her as she lounged on the sand. He brought back takeout, sacks spotted with grease and bulging with batter-dipped everything and extra hush puppies, iced tea sweet as syrup.
By the end of the week, Erik could swear he could see a little in-and-out dent around Mary Helens waistline again, an adorable bulge that curved over her string bikini bottom; and her breasts were unmistakably spilling over the triangle-piece top.
Sure enough, once they were back on campus, Mary Helen ate only one slice on their first trip to Guidos, then sat back.
I put on ten pounds over break, she said. Ten pounds! She pressed a hand to her tummy, beginning to show a soft cushion.
The words flew out of Eriks mouth without thought, without planning. If you gain another twenty, Ill elope with you.
Mary Helens mouth flew open. Her eyes widened. What-did-you-just-say-Erik-Bansemer?
Erik plunged. Mary Helen Havener, he said solemnly. I want a curvaceous, contented, happy bride. He handed her a slice of pizza. Will you marry me?
For a long moment, Mary Helen simply sat, staring straight ahead. Erik held his breath.
Then Mary Helen grabbed the slice out of his hand and shoved a huge bite into her mouth. Mffmll, she said, smiling and chewing. With difficulty she swallowed and took a gulp of pop. I will.
Mind you, Erik said, handing her another slice. Twenty is only the beginning.
Gradual Students
by Big Beautiful Dreamer
by Big Beautiful Dreamer
Erik sank into a seat in the lecture hall and suppressed a grimace. Starving when he woke up, he had downed a huge breakfast and now his stomach ached. He felt as though he had swallowed a medicine ball.
Hi. The bright voice in his ear shook him out of his funk. He glanced, then did a double take. Instead of Trip, who always cracked his knuckles, there was the pretty redhead who usually sat one row ahead. With an effort, he recalled her name.
Mary Helen. Hi, he said, and smiled. Unconsciously he straightened up and tried to suck in his bulging belly. Mary Helen flicked a quick smile and lowered her gaze.
Class dragged out, three long hours. Erik fought to keep his eyelids hoisted. Finally the clock clunked to noon. Erik gathered his courage.
Hey -- want to grab some lunch?
Again the quick flash of smile. Sure.
They crossed campus and made their way to Guidos, the pizzeria that catered to students, and ordered a large sausage-and-onion and large Cokes. Mary Helen looked wistful.
Pop is bad for my figure, she groaned.
Erik eyed her appreciatively as they hunted for a table.
I think you have a great figure, he said truthfully. It was true. In addition to dark red hair, Mary Helen had tempting round handfuls of breasts, a slender, if slightly softened, waist, and a round high bottom.
For all her stated concern, Mary Helen dived enthusiastically into her pizza. The sight and smell of the stuff triggered Eriks appetite, now roaring after three hours of class, so that two big slices disappeared from his plate very quickly along with half the cup of pop.
Once their initial hunger had been eased, both slowed down. Mary Helen said no more about her figure. Instead they talked about, what else, school.
I taught for five years, Mary Helen said, biting into the tip of her third slice. Mmmm. But I knew I wanted to get into curriculum development, so I thought that it would be good to have a masters in education.
Erik nodded and wiped his mouth. Hed had four slices already and was getting full. More or less the same here, he said. I taught for eight years and Ive really started to want to get into administration. If I had my druthers, he reached out, hesitated, and picked up the last slice, ten years from now I could see myself as the headmaster of a small school.
Mary Helens eyes widened. Oh, that sounds hic! sounds nice. Scuse me, she said. She pulled on her Coke, then shook the cup, now empty. Erik did the same with his. Without any discussion, they split the bill. Erik held the door and followed Mary Helen out. The guy with the ice cream cart was there today, unsurprisingly, as the day had gotten warm.
Hey, want some? Erik was fishing out his wallet.
Mary Helen shook her head, her hand pressed to a cutely bulging tummy. I shouldnt. Im stuffed, she said ruefully. Hic! See?
Erik grinned. Well, I sure will, he said. Two scoops of vanilla caramel, please. He turned to Mary Helen. Love ice cream. Love it.
Oh, that does look good. She sighed. Oh okay. She chose a strawberry cone. Contentedly they strolled, the sun warming their backs, and licked the cold sweet treats. At last they sat down on a bench outside the library and licked their sticky fingers.
Just as well I dont have class this afternoon, Erik groaned. I have some reading to do, but right now I need oh-oh-ohh a nap. He yawned hugely.
I do have class. Mary Helen stood and stretched, her top riding up and displaying a tummy taut with pizza, pop, and ice cream. Oh she also yawned. Ill have to sit in the back in case I nod off.
Erik patted her shoulder. Good luck.
Thanks. See ya.
Erik walked slowly back to his dorm and unlocked the door to his room, a small one-bedroom suite with a shared kitchen and bathroom down the hall.
He pushed open the door to the tiny bedroom part, kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt. He dropped it in the laundry basket and caught sight of himself in the mirror on the closet door. His chest and arms were fine, muscled as a result of daily morning workouts in the small workout room in the basement, but his belly bulged, swelling tautly out below his ribs. Five huge slices of pizza, a quart of pop, and a double scoop of ice cream were all piled into his now aching and roundly distended stomach. He flexed his biceps and thumped his gorged gut. He belched hugely, losing his balance for a second.
Whoa, he said aloud, and looked again. Another belch. Me fat, he said in a Tarzan voice, then yawned again. Suddenly he couldnt keep his eyes open. He fell onto his bed and was immediately sound asleep.
Now that they had gotten to know each other, Erik and Mary Helen found themselves running into each other in the library, by the mailboxes, and of course in the classes they had together. Lunch at Guidos quickly became a weekly routine, a treat after three hours in a lecture hall. They were adventurous eaters and delighted in trying different toppings, and Erik took to keeping ice cream in his dorm refrigerator in case the guy with the cart wasnt out. Study breaks had to be supplemented by snacks, and Saturday morning meant lingering over coffee at the pancake house.
By Thanksgiving break, Eriks jeans were telling of a perceptibly thickening waistline. They were getting increasingly snug, and quite often during their pizza dates, he would have to undo the button. Mary Helen, too, was becoming fuller in the face and breasts, and her low-slung jeans were clasped around a softening tummy. Sometimes when they were in bed together, Erik would blow a raspberry on her navel, making her shake with laughter.
Erik invited Mary Helen home for Thanksgiving; she lived across the country and hadnt planned to go to her family. On the drive, she was uncharacteristically quiet, but Erik understood. He tried to reassure her.
My folks are really laid back, he said. They were 70s suburban liberals.
Mary Helen giggled weakly.
Sure enough, Eriks parents were welcoming without being overpowering, and Eriks older brother had brought his fiancée, so everyone was geared for adjustments in family dynamics anyway. Their younger sister was just glad to have other girls around and they quickly scooted off to the mall.
Erik, Scott, and their dad sat and caught up, watching football and snacking on nibbles. The female contingent came back just in time for homemade lasagna, salad, and breadsticks. It was so good to encounter Moms cooking again that Erik plowed through two huge servings. Mary Helen was more restrained, although she clearly enjoyed it.
Now come on, Mom said, urging more on everyone. I dont have any room for leftovers in the fridge. That turkeys taking up a lot of space.
Scott suppressed a belch. So am I, he said, making everyone laugh.
After coffee and time for digestion, Dad brought out Trivial Pursuit, making for a lively evening, men against women. The women skunked the men, but it was all in good humor.
The next day was all about the kitchen. Eriks mom loved to cook, and their otherwise modest house featured a large kitchen/dining room with a granite-topped island.
I got this, and he never has to take me on a cruise, Eriks mom explained to Mary Helen, whom she put to work chopping celery for stuffing.
Eriks dad was making his famous cranberry-orange relish, which required much getting in the way, and would later make his ranch-dill mashed potatoes. Erik wandered in and out sneaking tastes of anything he could get away with.
Dinner was served about four oclock, which meant by then everyone was starved despite a pickup lunch of sandwiches and chips.
Oh, boy, Erik said, and rubbed his hands. No one had yet mentioned his modest spare tire. He piled his plate high -- he was a proponent of the stacked flavor combination approach -- and dived in. So did everyone else.
After first helpings were devoured, and people started going for seconds on their favorites, conversation picked up. Mary Helen gained points for being able to discuss football with passion, if limited understanding.
After two huge platefuls, Erik was beginning to slow down, but so much of the food was so good and only appeared a couple of times a year, and he really wanted more cranberry-orange relish and sweet potato casserole and he might as well finish off the stuffing and a little more dark meat and gravy needed a crescent roll to mop that up
Finally he had to admit defeat. He leaned back a little and mopped his face with the cloth napkin, and as he did he felt his gorged belly brush the edge of the tablecloth. He rested a hand on it, surprised at how far it was protruding, and as he tried to draw a deep breath he only hiccupped. With the others, he slowly pulled himself to his feet, cradling his bloated abdomen as he did, and plodded dopily through to the den with Scott and Dad.
He sank onto the sofa, still clutching his tautly distended belly, and only just realizing how stuffed he was. His sides felt stretched and tender and he was short of breath.
Whoa, he said, puffing. Hic!
Dad smiled and patted his own stomach, which was usually flat, but which now bulged roundly out below his sweater. Full tank, he said, suppressing a belch.
Scott was sprawled in the club chair, his jeans unbuttoned and his normally chiseled abs -- he worked out a lot -- swollen and round. He looked to be nearly asleep.
This girl seems very nice, Erik, Dad said, lighting his annual cigar.
Erik inhaled and hiccupped again. Ow. Yeah, she is, he said. Shes hic! interested in curriculum development. He pressed a hand to his protruding stomach, firm and immobile. Im interested in digestion. Hic.
Dad blew a smoke ring and belched gently. I might or might not fall asleep, he said meditatively.
Scotts ohh beat you to it, Erik said through a yawn. He stretched, groaning loudly as his shirt rode up, exposing a bloated belly pushing decisively against snug jeans. He felt warm, drowsy, and achingly sated and wanted nothing more than to drift semiconscious through the evening. Dad clicked on a football game and Mary Helen came in and sat on the sofa, watching and cheering along with the guys. Her lavender cashmere sweater was stretched over a roundly full stomach, and as she shifted position from time to time the play of the geography of her midsection fascinated Erik. It was certainly more amusing to watch than the football game, which was slow-moving and low-scoring.
The weekend unfolded in relaxation and lots of eating, and Mary Helen hit it off with Eriks family; she was cheerfully enthusiastic all the way back to school. But with Thanksgiving break over, it was time for the three-week sprint to end of term. Both buried themselves in term papers and exams, studying together diligently although when two or more are studying together, there snacks will also be and by the time Christmas break came around, Erik was grousing to Mary Helen that he was starting to resemble Santa Claus.
Shh, she said, laying her head on his shoulder and sliding a hand up and down his thickening midsection. I think you are very, very handsome. She pulled back and looked him in the eye. And my parents will like you.
Maam, yes maam, Erik said, and saluted smartly. The plan was for them to drive separately to Mary Helens parents house, and for Erik to have a weekend there before continuing home.
Erik was polite, charming, and clean, but Mary Helens parents were much more restrained. Maybe it had to do with having a lot more money, Erik thought. Their home was tasteful, almost unlived-in looking, and meals were approached as a penance: small, almost reluctant spoonfuls of unappetizing food cooked as plainly as possible. Butter, sauce, even herbs were seemingly banned from the house. During an early-morning walk that Saturday, Mary Helen apologized.
They both come from families were it was thought rude to display your feelings because it made others uncomfortable, she said. Mother has no doubt noticed that Ive packed on the graduate version of the freshman fifteen, but she wont say a word because that would be gauche. But Ive seen her eyeing my waistline.
Erik slid his arm around it. And a lovely waistline it is, he said warmly. Dont even think of paring it down. I love you just the way you are.
Mary Helen leaned into his embrace and rested a hand on his warm sweatered paunch. You too, she said. Youre my teddy bear.
Erik started singing, Elvis-like, and Mary Helen started laughing so hard they had to stop and lean against a tree to recover.
The weekend at Mary Helens finally limped to a close and Erik escaped to the warmer welcome of his own parents house. His sister, Heather, and Scotts fiancee, Diane, expressed disappointment at the absence of Mary Helen, but Erik was quickly forgiven when he quietly stepped in and washed up the dishes from Heather and Dianes batch of homemade brownies. As usual, the house was awash in Christmas treats, all of which disappeared with dispatch: honey-walnut balls, pinwheel cookies, pfeffernuesse, tea cakes, chocolate peanut clusters and yogurt pretzels, brandy balls, sausage balls, honey-dipped cashews -- there was always a plate or tin of something available, and Erik happily availed.
After about a week, Erik inadvertently grunted one morning while hunting for the creamer in the crowded fridge, and as he straightened up, Mom gave him her level gaze.
You look a lot healthier these days, she said finally.
Eriks lips twitched. Ive put on some weight, Mom, he said. Graduate school is a combination of stress and quick meals. He took a deep swallow of coffee. Mary Helen doesnt mind.
Youre still working out, Mom said uncertainly.
Every morning. With his free hand, Erik made a biceps pose and growled. Mom smiled, and the subject was dropped. Erik was relieved to have gotten off so lightly, but after all, he was something of an adult and it was his lookout, he supposed. Doubtless it was yet another reason for Mary Helens parents to disapprove.
By Christmas Eve, though, Eriks favorite jeans were dangerously snug. He tugged them back off and reluctantly stepped on the scale, old but reliable, in the upstairs bathroom. The needle swung to a stop on 212, a gain of twenty-two pounds since May. Erik stepped over to the mirror and looked himself over. Yup. That was a growing midsection, all right. His face was becoming fuller and his chin softening, but most of his weight was going to his belly, a consequence in part of workouts that demanded a lot of his legs and chest and arms but that avoided situps and ab crunches as the invention of the devil. Then he shrugged. Mary Helen was happy. He was okay with it, he decided. Maybe hed go on a diet after Christmas.
Jeans that begin a Christmas dinner dangerously snug are unlikely to hold up through the evening. After two large helpings of everything, Erik reached under the table, and under his swelling belly, and undid the button and eased the zipper down. Ah, there, that was slightly better. He hiccupped quietly and refilled his plate.
After thirds on cranberry sauce, orange-nut bread, cranberry-orange relish, mashed potatoes, dark meat and gravy, and sweet potato casserole, Erik paused to take stock. His stomach was becoming painfully stretched, and was starting to ache, but he really, really wanted just one more taste of a couple of things. After a long survey of the remains on the table, he decided it was his duty to finish up the sweet potato casserole and the basket of crescent rolls. Slowly slowly bite by warm bite he polished off his fourth helpings and drained his glass. By now his gorged and distended abdomen was not just brushing the edge of the table but pushing against it.
With an effort, Erik braced his hands on the table and slowly hauled himself to his feet. His hugely overloaded belly, aching and stretched, had ballooned, protruding through the opening of his undone jeans and visible below the straining hem of his shirt. Quickly he tugged the shirt down, in vain, but no one appeared to notice. Off balance with the weight of his sloshing gut and lightheaded with sugar, fat, and carbs, he waddled slowly into the den and sank onto the sofa. There he leaned back and rested his hands on his swollen belly. The short walk had left him breathless and he found that it hurt less to breathe through his mouth. Definitely he would cut back after today.
Somehow, when the pumpkin pie and ice cream were passed around later, he found space for two large slices.
Since his parents house didnt come equipped with a workout room, Erik found it easier just to sleep in in the mornings. And there were still many tins and plates of treats lying around like friendly, chocolate-covered land mines. Erik endured the marathon of after-Christmas sales with Diane and Heather and picked up several pairs of pants that were a little more forgiving in the waist. After all, at sale prices, they would do until he lost the pounds.
The drive back seemed really long without company in the car. Finally back in his dorm room, he was half asleep in the recliner when someone burst in, startling him awake. Then Mary Helen was flying at him and tugging him to his feet and hugging the breath out of him.
Uh, hi, he finally managed. She giggled, then stepped back.
New sweater, she said, modeling it for him. Oh, gosh, have I ever missed you! A whole month in the mausoleum! I thought I would die.
Im even gladder to see you than I am to see your new sweater. Its pretty, though, Erik said. The sweater fitted snugly over her curves, including the new and unmistakable arc of her tummy and her unmistakably larger breasts. Those were new jeans, too, and as Mary Helen turned this way and that, Erik saw the lush ripeness of her softening backside and fuller thighs.
The sweater didnt stay on very long.
A few weeks into the new semester, Erik, deep in the library stacks, overheard a couple of classmates talking.
You know Erik Bansemer, one said. Hes kinda tall dark hair used to be really cute.
The one with glasses? the other asked uncertainly.
No. The fat one. I dont know whats going on, but hes porked up big time, the first one said. Like I said, he used to be cute. Goes around with Mary Helen Havener. Shes put on weight, too.
Maybe they bake cookies together, the other said, and, giggling, they moved down the stacks out of earshot.
Erik stood frozen with his hand on the book he had been going to take from the shelves. Used to be cute. Porked up big time. And to insult his girlfriend like that! He was tempted to confront them, but even as he thought it, he knew he wouldnt. Still, he was grouchy and out of sorts all afternoon.
The next day, fate having placed them in a weekly three-hour class again this semester, Erik followed Mary Helen slowly over to Guidos. When the pizza was ready, though, he gazed at it and swallowed some Diet Coke but didnt pick up a slice.
Whats wrong, sweetie? Mary Helens green eyes were limpid with concern.
Erik took a deep breath. I came back from Christmas break weighing more than 220 pounds. At the end of last year, in May that is, I was 190. Ive put on thirty pounds in six months. Eight months. He slapped his distinct paunch. Im a big fat hog.
Mary Helen put down her slice and her gaze dropped to the plate. Erik could see tears pooling. Valiantly she took several deep pulls from her cup of pop. Ive put on twenty pounds, she said. I can feel some of the others staring at me. I dont think Im imagining it.
Erik wasnt about to report the conversation hed overheard. I think you get more beautiful every day, he said truthfully.
Mary Helen sniffled. My new sweaters already too tight.
The one youre wearing right this minute? No its not. Its just exactly right. Youre not supposed to drown in your clothes, you know.
Mary Helen looked at him. Im fat, arent I?
No, Erik said, but even he heard the weakness in his voice. Mary Helen picked up her purse and headed for the door.
Mary Helen sweetie wait, Erik pleaded. She shook off his hand and kept walking, eyes on the ground.
Just give me a little time, okay, she said over her shoulder.
It was impossible to avoid someone in the same graduate program, but a thoroughly bewildered Erik found that Mary Helen was a master of what used to be called the Cut Direct. She would meet his gaze in the lecture hall or library, then look right past him.
Ice cream, pizza, snacks lost their appeal, but Erik found his hand deep in a bag of chips or cheese puffs anyway. He overslept and had to skip his workout more often and kept finding himself falling asleep on the sofa by 9:00. He watched his waistline thicken and his belly broaden and couldnt make himself care.
Mary Helen apparently threw herself into a punitive diet. Weight fell off her. From a distance, Erik could see her appealingly soft bottom and round tummy shrivel. The compliments she was apparently getting from classmates spurred her on. She passed slender and was becoming visibly skinny, elbows and hipbones protruding.
It was in the library stacks, again, that Erik heard something he would rather not have heard.
in the infirmary, one female voice said.
Whats wrong with her? Whyd she faint in class?
I dont know. I heard someone say anorexia.
Well, to be honest, she could have used a little, the second voice said derisively.
It could have been anybody. Erik knew in his ballooning gut that it was Mary Helen. He strode out of the library and headed for the health center.
Um, hi, he said tentatively, peeking around the curtained screen.
Mary Helen looked at him blankly. Hi, Erik, she said.
Erik sat down on the chair next to the cot. How are you feeling?
Im fine. I really dont need to be in here. Even with the sheet covering her, Erik could see that Mary Helen was too thin. Her face was drawn, skin tight over sharp cheekbones. She looked more like her mother now, a comparison Erik didnt much care for. He could see the outline of her rib cage and concave belly. If he tried to blow a raspberry on her belly button now hed probably hurt her.
He gulped. Is it true youre not eating?
No, she said, hurt. I eat.
What do you eat?
None of your business, she snapped, then tears welled up.
Erik reached over and handed her a tissue from the box on the table by the cot. It is my business, he said softly. I love you. Im miserable without you. And I care very much that youre making yourself miserable.
Im not miserable, Mary Helen garbled through tears and a nose blow. Ib fide.
Oh, yeah. Fine.
Mary Helen glanced wetly at him. Okay. Ib dot fide. She blew her nose again and cleared her throat. I eat, she said, absently shredding the tissue. I eat a hard boiled egg every morning, a banana and a chicken breast and leaf lettuce every afternoon, and a cup of soup every night.
Erik choked. Thats not enough to keep a 1-year-old going, he said with an edge to his voice.
Thats what the nurse told me, Mary Helen said. She said I have to gain five pounds before shell let me out of here, and I have to come back here every week for a check-up. Im not allowed to go below 130 or shell put me in the hospital.
Eriks lips twitched. He couldnt help himself. Mary Helen would either laugh or throw something at him. Maybe you could schedule your check-up for every week after Guidos.
She looked away, then met his gaze, then looked away again. You know, she said slowly, I do kind of want a sausage-and-onion.
Eriks grin split his face. Lets work on getting you out of here.
Once Mary Helen had decided to eat like a normal person again, the weight bounded back as though it had been waiting impatiently offstage. From 95 pounds on her once-curvy 56 frame, she gained the five pounds needed to be liberated from the infirmary; after that, with Eriks help, she rediscovered the pleasure in eating, especially when shared. It took some time for her shrunken stomach to stretch enough, but by spring break, she was back up to three slices-plus a quart of pop-plus ice cream each week at Guidos, and they ate dinner together every night. It was more than a cup of soup.
As a pre-graduation present, Mary Helens parents had staked her to a week at their beach house and even granted permission for Erik to be there.
For once, Mary Helen proclaimed, I am gonna look great in a bikini!
If we go swimming at midnight, Erik teased, we can, um hed been going to say skinny dip, but while Mary Helen had gone from 160 to 90 and then back up, she was still only at 130. Erik, on the other hand, had fed his breakup-fueled funk literally and now tipped the scales at 240.
Mary Helen stopped packing and came around the bed, snuggling against his broad chest for an embrace. I love you, she murmured, sliding her hand up and down his pot, where most of the weight seemed to be going. She tipped her face up and traced under his double chin, then pressed a finger to his full lips. He kissed.
Packing got slightly delayed.
Somehow, Erik felt as though something was slightly out of sync about their intimacy. It wasnt the time theyd spent apart; her body felt different. Erik realized he missed the cushion of a padded tummy and the ripe overabundance of her larger breasts. Hmm.
On the way to the beach, after a ritual stop at her parents to pick up the keys and express gratitude, Erik cleared his throat. I want this to be a really relaxing week for you, he said. I want you to really enjoy yourself. Let me do all the cooking.
Oh, Erik, really?
Really.
True to form, Eriks parents had not said a work either about Mary Helens altered figure or Eriks visible gain. Those were some poker faces, Erik had thought.
Erik kept his word. He made lasagna, shrimp scampi, enormous blueberry muffins, creamy, cheese-filled omelets, even brownies loaded with butter and chocolate syrup. He brought her breakfast in bed every morning and insisted on feeding her. He carried Dagwood sandwiches with mountains of chips to her as she lounged on the sand. He brought back takeout, sacks spotted with grease and bulging with batter-dipped everything and extra hush puppies, iced tea sweet as syrup.
By the end of the week, Erik could swear he could see a little in-and-out dent around Mary Helens waistline again, an adorable bulge that curved over her string bikini bottom; and her breasts were unmistakably spilling over the triangle-piece top.
Sure enough, once they were back on campus, Mary Helen ate only one slice on their first trip to Guidos, then sat back.
I put on ten pounds over break, she said. Ten pounds! She pressed a hand to her tummy, beginning to show a soft cushion.
The words flew out of Eriks mouth without thought, without planning. If you gain another twenty, Ill elope with you.
Mary Helens mouth flew open. Her eyes widened. What-did-you-just-say-Erik-Bansemer?
Erik plunged. Mary Helen Havener, he said solemnly. I want a curvaceous, contented, happy bride. He handed her a slice of pizza. Will you marry me?
For a long moment, Mary Helen simply sat, staring straight ahead. Erik held his breath.
Then Mary Helen grabbed the slice out of his hand and shoved a huge bite into her mouth. Mffmll, she said, smiling and chewing. With difficulty she swallowed and took a gulp of pop. I will.
Mind you, Erik said, handing her another slice. Twenty is only the beginning.
