Big Beautiful Dreamer
ridiculously contented
BHM, WG
GROWING BOY
by Big Beautiful Dreamer
By the time Erin Gutnecht arrived at the graduate students end-of-the-year party, it was already in full swing. The door was ajar and the music was so loud it was shaking the frame house. She went in, feeling her hair being blown back by the noise from the stereo speakers, and nabbed a spot on one end of the sagging sofa. Her guydar had already scoped out the presence of Sam Foote, the hottest guy in school.
Hey! Erins best friend, Adrianna, flopped onto the sofa next to her, causing the whole thing to shake. Whoa. Collapse imminent.
You or the sofa?
Both. Adrianna ran a hand through her short brown hair. God, Im so glad this year is over . Hey, what are you staring at?
Sam Foote.
Subtle much?
Erin blushed. Hes just um
The word would be hot, Adrianna replied, patting Erin on the head. Who am I to interfere with maidenly delights? Want a beer?
One. A light one, please.
You got it.
By the time Adrianna returned with the beer, Sam had gone outside for a game of team Frisbee, shirts vs. skins. Sam without his shirt on equaled hot squared, Erin thought. She hopped up onto the deck railing and settled in for a night of watching pleasure.
Periodically, sweating and out of breath, the Frisbee players trooped over to the deck to pillage the beer and pizza set out. Erin thought she might die of the proximity. As the night wore on, though, she noticed something. It was more obvious on Sam than on most of the other guys, because Sam had the most ripped figure. Model-perfect pecs pointed the way to a rock-hard six-pack, jeans loosely encircling a flat waist, sweat lazing down the path toward heaven. But Sam was downing beer and pizza as if there were no tomorrow, and darned if it wasnt starting to show.
As Sam turned to talk to a buddy, Erin saw a cushion resting atop those defined abs. A round ball of belly gently pushed the waistband of the jeans forward at the clasp, modest love handles beginning to perch above the waist and lap around the waistband. Sams gorgeous tummy, full of beer and pizza, pouched outward, folding the waistband of his jeans under just a little.
By now Erin had moved from the deck rail to a chair, and if she kept her eyes half-closed she figured no one would notice her gazing at Sams modestly bulging stomach. Then a shout made her open her eyes.
Hey Sammy, Sams roommate, Rick, said a little thickly. Bet you cant eat the whole pizza.
Youre on, Sam said instantly, slapping his rounded belly. What do I win? Sam hadnt stinted on the beer either, Erin thought. Hed never agree to that sober.
The other part of her mind was thinking, oh please, oh please, oh please. Erin would never in her life have identified herself as an FFA. She didnt even know the term. But her privates were involuntarily clenching with pleasure both at the sight of Sams little pizza gut and the thought of seeing it bulge even bigger. She didnt know why. She couldnt have articulated it if she tried. But she was aroused, no question.
Tuhhhn . Twuhh . Twenty bucks, Rick managed, waving it in the air like a trophy. But you have to do it in ten minutes.
On your mark, somebody said. Get set. Go!
Go, go, go, go, the spectators chanted as Sam grabbed the first slice. By now it was stone cold, so he could shove it down as fast as he wanted. Bite bite bite bite the first slice was history. Then a second. Then a third. After five slices, though, trouble loomed. Sam hiccupped loudly and pressed a hand to his midriff. He was already bringing a tummy full of pizza and beer to this challenge, and it was clear he was stuffed. He belched loudly, prompting cheers and catcalls. Another graceless belch and he soldiered on. Six. Seven. By now Sam was looking a little green. He was shaking his head weakly back and forth, and his free hand clutched his swollen belly, by now pooching over his waistband. Sweat trickled down his temples.
Do it do it the crowd chanted. Sam was clearly slowing down. Mouth full, he winced and grabbed his aching belly. Finally, he shoved the last crumbs in, tipping his head back and gulping the beer someone pressed into his hand. Cheers erupted as Sam, recovering, held the empty cup high and whipped it into the yard.
Dag, man, that was like Cool Hand Luke, Rick said, eyes wide. He shoved the twenty into Sams back pocket. You gonna blow?
Sam shook his head weakly, but he was cradling his bloated belly. Stuffed full of pizza, beer-sodden stomach sloshing, he leaned heavily on Rick, staggering as Rick guided him toward the door and across the street to the house they shared with a couple of med students.
Erin waited a decent interval before leaving herself. When she got home, she discovered that her underwear had a telltale damp spot on it. Her whole body was on edge. Waiting to fall asleep, she closed her eyes and imagined the evening, Sams ripped abs turning into a rounded belly again and again.
It was after 11 by the time Erin woke up the next day. Throwing on some clothes, she drove downtown and shuffled into a coffee shop. Not fully awake, she bumped into the person ahead of her in line.
Sorry, she mumbled.
Hey! Some party last night, huh?
Erin blinked. Sam Foote. She blinked several times to keep her eyes from zeroing in on his belly, but a quick glance told her that hed shaken off the effects of the night before. Even under a shirt, the taut abs were clearly visible.
Hey, you know what? Sam continued. Forget this line. Im hungry. Want to go down the street and get some Chinese?
Holy cow, Erin thought, Sam Foote is talking to me. Sure, she managed.
Order placed, Sam leaned in, raising his eyebrows. Did you see me chow that pizza last night?
I think so, Erin fibbed.
Sam shook his head. I was pretty plowed, he admitted. But you know what? I was stuffed to the gills by the time I got it all down. My stomach really ached. But the thing was, at the same time it felt good. I was really enjoying being so full.
What? Erin pretended to be puzzled. And while part of her was puzzled, part of her felt herself aroused at the memory. What was it that had been such a turn-on? Weird, Erin thought. If it was Sams solid pecs and ripped abs that attracted her, why did the temporary destruction of those abs make her so aroused?
I know, Sam said, shaking his head again. My gut was busted, big time. It hurt. But it felt kind of good to be that stuffed. He grinned crookedly. Whatever. Schools out; Im not about to sit around analyzing it, right?
Right, Erin echoed as the food arrived. Sam managed all of his Five Spice Chicken and about half the rice before shoving his plate aside. Enough. Im full.
Not wanting to pig out in front of a guy, Erin had eaten more pickily and had about half of her chicken and broccoli left. Me, too, she added quickly.
Want to go for a walk around the pond? Sam asked, dropping a twenty on the table and standing up, not waiting for change.
Sure, Erin said, hoping Sam couldnt hear her heart pounding.
As they strolled, they talked, learning more about each other than they had all year. Whenever they passed a fitness break station, Sam did whatever the sign advised: lunges, squats, pull-ups. Im kind of a fitness dork, he admitted. Like to work out.
Nothing wrong with that, Erin said, blushing.
At the end of the walk, they ended up back at her car. Uncharacteristically, Sam seemed tongue-tied. Finally, staring at the sidewalk, he said, Ive got an internship in Cleveland for three months. Starting next week. After that, I want to come back here and find work. Do you want to like, e-mail each other? He looked up, his cheeks flushed.
Um okay, Erin said, trying not to sound too eager.
Great. He fished out a crumpled ATM receipt and a leaky pen and scribbled out an e-mail address. Ill, um, be seeing you around, he said. He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then loped around the corner.
GROWING BOY
by Big Beautiful Dreamer
By the time Erin Gutnecht arrived at the graduate students end-of-the-year party, it was already in full swing. The door was ajar and the music was so loud it was shaking the frame house. She went in, feeling her hair being blown back by the noise from the stereo speakers, and nabbed a spot on one end of the sagging sofa. Her guydar had already scoped out the presence of Sam Foote, the hottest guy in school.
Hey! Erins best friend, Adrianna, flopped onto the sofa next to her, causing the whole thing to shake. Whoa. Collapse imminent.
You or the sofa?
Both. Adrianna ran a hand through her short brown hair. God, Im so glad this year is over . Hey, what are you staring at?
Sam Foote.
Subtle much?
Erin blushed. Hes just um
The word would be hot, Adrianna replied, patting Erin on the head. Who am I to interfere with maidenly delights? Want a beer?
One. A light one, please.
You got it.
By the time Adrianna returned with the beer, Sam had gone outside for a game of team Frisbee, shirts vs. skins. Sam without his shirt on equaled hot squared, Erin thought. She hopped up onto the deck railing and settled in for a night of watching pleasure.
Periodically, sweating and out of breath, the Frisbee players trooped over to the deck to pillage the beer and pizza set out. Erin thought she might die of the proximity. As the night wore on, though, she noticed something. It was more obvious on Sam than on most of the other guys, because Sam had the most ripped figure. Model-perfect pecs pointed the way to a rock-hard six-pack, jeans loosely encircling a flat waist, sweat lazing down the path toward heaven. But Sam was downing beer and pizza as if there were no tomorrow, and darned if it wasnt starting to show.
As Sam turned to talk to a buddy, Erin saw a cushion resting atop those defined abs. A round ball of belly gently pushed the waistband of the jeans forward at the clasp, modest love handles beginning to perch above the waist and lap around the waistband. Sams gorgeous tummy, full of beer and pizza, pouched outward, folding the waistband of his jeans under just a little.
By now Erin had moved from the deck rail to a chair, and if she kept her eyes half-closed she figured no one would notice her gazing at Sams modestly bulging stomach. Then a shout made her open her eyes.
Hey Sammy, Sams roommate, Rick, said a little thickly. Bet you cant eat the whole pizza.
Youre on, Sam said instantly, slapping his rounded belly. What do I win? Sam hadnt stinted on the beer either, Erin thought. Hed never agree to that sober.
The other part of her mind was thinking, oh please, oh please, oh please. Erin would never in her life have identified herself as an FFA. She didnt even know the term. But her privates were involuntarily clenching with pleasure both at the sight of Sams little pizza gut and the thought of seeing it bulge even bigger. She didnt know why. She couldnt have articulated it if she tried. But she was aroused, no question.
Tuhhhn . Twuhh . Twenty bucks, Rick managed, waving it in the air like a trophy. But you have to do it in ten minutes.
On your mark, somebody said. Get set. Go!
Go, go, go, go, the spectators chanted as Sam grabbed the first slice. By now it was stone cold, so he could shove it down as fast as he wanted. Bite bite bite bite the first slice was history. Then a second. Then a third. After five slices, though, trouble loomed. Sam hiccupped loudly and pressed a hand to his midriff. He was already bringing a tummy full of pizza and beer to this challenge, and it was clear he was stuffed. He belched loudly, prompting cheers and catcalls. Another graceless belch and he soldiered on. Six. Seven. By now Sam was looking a little green. He was shaking his head weakly back and forth, and his free hand clutched his swollen belly, by now pooching over his waistband. Sweat trickled down his temples.
Do it do it the crowd chanted. Sam was clearly slowing down. Mouth full, he winced and grabbed his aching belly. Finally, he shoved the last crumbs in, tipping his head back and gulping the beer someone pressed into his hand. Cheers erupted as Sam, recovering, held the empty cup high and whipped it into the yard.
Dag, man, that was like Cool Hand Luke, Rick said, eyes wide. He shoved the twenty into Sams back pocket. You gonna blow?
Sam shook his head weakly, but he was cradling his bloated belly. Stuffed full of pizza, beer-sodden stomach sloshing, he leaned heavily on Rick, staggering as Rick guided him toward the door and across the street to the house they shared with a couple of med students.
Erin waited a decent interval before leaving herself. When she got home, she discovered that her underwear had a telltale damp spot on it. Her whole body was on edge. Waiting to fall asleep, she closed her eyes and imagined the evening, Sams ripped abs turning into a rounded belly again and again.
It was after 11 by the time Erin woke up the next day. Throwing on some clothes, she drove downtown and shuffled into a coffee shop. Not fully awake, she bumped into the person ahead of her in line.
Sorry, she mumbled.
Hey! Some party last night, huh?
Erin blinked. Sam Foote. She blinked several times to keep her eyes from zeroing in on his belly, but a quick glance told her that hed shaken off the effects of the night before. Even under a shirt, the taut abs were clearly visible.
Hey, you know what? Sam continued. Forget this line. Im hungry. Want to go down the street and get some Chinese?
Holy cow, Erin thought, Sam Foote is talking to me. Sure, she managed.
Order placed, Sam leaned in, raising his eyebrows. Did you see me chow that pizza last night?
I think so, Erin fibbed.
Sam shook his head. I was pretty plowed, he admitted. But you know what? I was stuffed to the gills by the time I got it all down. My stomach really ached. But the thing was, at the same time it felt good. I was really enjoying being so full.
What? Erin pretended to be puzzled. And while part of her was puzzled, part of her felt herself aroused at the memory. What was it that had been such a turn-on? Weird, Erin thought. If it was Sams solid pecs and ripped abs that attracted her, why did the temporary destruction of those abs make her so aroused?
I know, Sam said, shaking his head again. My gut was busted, big time. It hurt. But it felt kind of good to be that stuffed. He grinned crookedly. Whatever. Schools out; Im not about to sit around analyzing it, right?
Right, Erin echoed as the food arrived. Sam managed all of his Five Spice Chicken and about half the rice before shoving his plate aside. Enough. Im full.
Not wanting to pig out in front of a guy, Erin had eaten more pickily and had about half of her chicken and broccoli left. Me, too, she added quickly.
Want to go for a walk around the pond? Sam asked, dropping a twenty on the table and standing up, not waiting for change.
Sure, Erin said, hoping Sam couldnt hear her heart pounding.
As they strolled, they talked, learning more about each other than they had all year. Whenever they passed a fitness break station, Sam did whatever the sign advised: lunges, squats, pull-ups. Im kind of a fitness dork, he admitted. Like to work out.
Nothing wrong with that, Erin said, blushing.
At the end of the walk, they ended up back at her car. Uncharacteristically, Sam seemed tongue-tied. Finally, staring at the sidewalk, he said, Ive got an internship in Cleveland for three months. Starting next week. After that, I want to come back here and find work. Do you want to like, e-mail each other? He looked up, his cheeks flushed.
Um okay, Erin said, trying not to sound too eager.
Great. He fished out a crumpled ATM receipt and a leaky pen and scribbled out an e-mail address. Ill, um, be seeing you around, he said. He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then loped around the corner.
