During self-isolation, Theo discovers new culinary skills and other new ... appetites. He also reconnects with an old crush.
Contains erotic content.
COVID-19 Content Warning: This story takes place during the contemporary era, and its plot centres around weight gain, remote flirtation and self-discovery during self-isolation, because my brain processes uncomfortable situations in topsy turvy ways, and since this story turned up and I haven't written a story for Dims since 2014, it seemed worth a try. That said, nothing bad is going to happen related to COVID in this story, and it takes place in a setting where people are receiving appropriate income support and the medical system has been strengthened significantly. (It's set in Australia, but a slightly "rounded-up-to-the-best-possible-response" Australia.) The "realest" it will ever get is an early setting-out-the-circumstances paragraph talking about worries that are quickly assuaged, and a brief reference to delivery drivers striking for better conditions. Everyone in this story is going to be ok. Also, our hero will not at any stage break social distancing rules. Just presume he's a paragon of caring about other people, and that all taboos broken in this story will be concerned with traditional Dimensions content.
During quarantine, cooking had gradually transformed from a grudging necessity to something between creative outlet and soothing hobby. Theo had always enjoyed a good meal, a fact that had been reflected in the slow but certain softening of his waistline over the years. Until now though, Theo had never much seen the need to actually produce those meals himself, not when the various fine restauranteurs of the city were kind enough to keep him well supplied with all his favourite takeaways, and not when the stress of working tech support for a gaggle of small nonprofit clients tended to keep him feeling fulfilled but exhausted by the end of each workday. But things had changed during isolation.
When COVID had reared its ugly head and social distancing had begun, Theo hadn’t been too worried for his own quarantined-sanity at least. Theo had always enjoyed his own company, and many of his closest friendships had been made online during the bad old days of forums and webrings. In the midst of an admittedly frightening and stressful situation, while balancing panicked clients, he’d somehow found himself reconnecting with old online friends, and was even about to begin a new tabletop roleplaying game with some old amateur theatre buddies he’d played with back at university. Fear for his family and friends had now thankfully been eased as his country began putting in real measures to financially support people and strengthen the medical system. Things weren’t ending up nearly as dire as he’d worried they might be. But as he contemplated months at home, unable to do much in the way of outdoor exercise, and thought ruefully of the outgrown pants of years past, he’d thought it might be high time to improve his kitchen skills in between supporting local businesses.
At first his home meals had been simple, Spartan things. A seared chicken breast with some vegetables on the side when he was feeling virtuous; a toaster-oven crumbed fish fillet with hash browns and ketchup when he was thoroughly done with every moment of bullshit. A lot of toast. Typical bachelor fare that made him all the more grateful for restauranteurs, who actually knew what the hell they were doing. But as the days of distancing wore on, the irritation of teaching elderly Board Directors how to video chat began to mingle with worry about the plight of delivery drivers. When UberEats workers had gone on strike demanding protective equipment and proper working rights, Theo, eager not to cross the picket line, decided enough was enough. He put in a single standing weekly order with one local eatery he loved, run by a sweet couple with a tiny staff of relatives who ran their own deliveries, and vowed to finally teach himself to cook. How hard could it be, with the whole internet at his fingertips, ready to help?
He, er, may have gone a little overboard.
He may, in fact, have unleashed a gourmet monster.
Staring into the fridge, Theo surveyed the products of his handiwork over the last week.
There was a roasting pan filled with … oh, by now, probably only half of a gloriously glazed orange roast duck, sitting regally atop a bed of fennel and potatoes. In a series of Tupperware containers sat servings of fragrant lamb rogan josh over rice. Or, ooh, if he was feeling a desire to indulge his sweet tooth, there was the tray of golden, oat-topped apple rhubarb crumble, already missing a few portions, or the tray of rum raisin brownies…
Theo’s stomach rumbled. He rubbed his hand absently over its swell as he contemplated his options, before deciding he would obviously never be able to decide on dinner without a pre-meal snack. He poured himself a generous glass of milk, and plated up a couple of brownies. His stomach rumbled again. Hmm, alright, three brownies. His mouth began to water.
Theo had, at first, made rules for himself. Sensible, proper portions, eaten at the table, at sensible proper times. Along with sensible, ugh, proper, zzzz, exercise.
Obviously, ridiculous rules like those hadn’t lasted once he’d discovered his gourmet talents. Those were rules for dry bachelor chicken, not for a sneaky bite of fragrant shepherd’s pie snatched between meetings, just enough time to congratulate himself on the perfect texture of the golden-brown cheese-crumbled potato crust. After all, he thought to himself the first time he ate a full, luscious meal standing in front of the fridge at 2am, didn’t Unprecedented Times call for a few Unprecedented Treats? Just for a little while?
Upon further consideration, Theo took a fourth brownie from the fridge, and, rather than adding it to a crowded plate, took an immediate bite. Theo had tried rather a lot of brownie recipes in lockdown, and had discovered this one while contemplating how to use up some extra rum in the liquor section of his pantry without getting ill-advisedly solo drunk. Now, upon first bite, the effect was immediate: a riot of sweetness and boozy delight, a sense of serenity deep within. A second bite, and a third, and the brownie was gone. Well that won’t do, this glass of milk needs a little more substance to balance it out. The fifth brownie was duly added to his now rather crowded plate.
As Theo settled in front of his computer and began polishing off the brownies, he heard a difficult sound to identify, felt an odd sensation about his hips, like a sense of tension and release.
Huh. Wha – oh. Ah.
The tie of his robe had loosened of its own accord to accommodate him, pushed out by the pressure of his belly as he sat.
Hmm. That really didn’t bear consideration.
Theo decided not to think about it. He also decided not to notice the odd little tingle of awareness at the back of his mind that seemed to … enjoy it? Nah, definitely not.
Contains erotic content.
COVID-19 Content Warning: This story takes place during the contemporary era, and its plot centres around weight gain, remote flirtation and self-discovery during self-isolation, because my brain processes uncomfortable situations in topsy turvy ways, and since this story turned up and I haven't written a story for Dims since 2014, it seemed worth a try. That said, nothing bad is going to happen related to COVID in this story, and it takes place in a setting where people are receiving appropriate income support and the medical system has been strengthened significantly. (It's set in Australia, but a slightly "rounded-up-to-the-best-possible-response" Australia.) The "realest" it will ever get is an early setting-out-the-circumstances paragraph talking about worries that are quickly assuaged, and a brief reference to delivery drivers striking for better conditions. Everyone in this story is going to be ok. Also, our hero will not at any stage break social distancing rules. Just presume he's a paragon of caring about other people, and that all taboos broken in this story will be concerned with traditional Dimensions content.
King of the Castle
by gythaogg
Wrapped in a luxuriantly fluffy bathrobe, Theo gazed into the fridge like it was a fortune-teller’s booth. What delights does my future hold, O oracle? Show me something tall, dark and handsome. He absently scratched at the rise of his rounded hip, just below the waist tie of the robe, surveying the options. Dimly, just at the edge of consciousness, his fingers registered how the softness of the fabric matched well with the increasing softness of his hip below.by gythaogg
During quarantine, cooking had gradually transformed from a grudging necessity to something between creative outlet and soothing hobby. Theo had always enjoyed a good meal, a fact that had been reflected in the slow but certain softening of his waistline over the years. Until now though, Theo had never much seen the need to actually produce those meals himself, not when the various fine restauranteurs of the city were kind enough to keep him well supplied with all his favourite takeaways, and not when the stress of working tech support for a gaggle of small nonprofit clients tended to keep him feeling fulfilled but exhausted by the end of each workday. But things had changed during isolation.
When COVID had reared its ugly head and social distancing had begun, Theo hadn’t been too worried for his own quarantined-sanity at least. Theo had always enjoyed his own company, and many of his closest friendships had been made online during the bad old days of forums and webrings. In the midst of an admittedly frightening and stressful situation, while balancing panicked clients, he’d somehow found himself reconnecting with old online friends, and was even about to begin a new tabletop roleplaying game with some old amateur theatre buddies he’d played with back at university. Fear for his family and friends had now thankfully been eased as his country began putting in real measures to financially support people and strengthen the medical system. Things weren’t ending up nearly as dire as he’d worried they might be. But as he contemplated months at home, unable to do much in the way of outdoor exercise, and thought ruefully of the outgrown pants of years past, he’d thought it might be high time to improve his kitchen skills in between supporting local businesses.
At first his home meals had been simple, Spartan things. A seared chicken breast with some vegetables on the side when he was feeling virtuous; a toaster-oven crumbed fish fillet with hash browns and ketchup when he was thoroughly done with every moment of bullshit. A lot of toast. Typical bachelor fare that made him all the more grateful for restauranteurs, who actually knew what the hell they were doing. But as the days of distancing wore on, the irritation of teaching elderly Board Directors how to video chat began to mingle with worry about the plight of delivery drivers. When UberEats workers had gone on strike demanding protective equipment and proper working rights, Theo, eager not to cross the picket line, decided enough was enough. He put in a single standing weekly order with one local eatery he loved, run by a sweet couple with a tiny staff of relatives who ran their own deliveries, and vowed to finally teach himself to cook. How hard could it be, with the whole internet at his fingertips, ready to help?
He, er, may have gone a little overboard.
He may, in fact, have unleashed a gourmet monster.
Staring into the fridge, Theo surveyed the products of his handiwork over the last week.
There was a roasting pan filled with … oh, by now, probably only half of a gloriously glazed orange roast duck, sitting regally atop a bed of fennel and potatoes. In a series of Tupperware containers sat servings of fragrant lamb rogan josh over rice. Or, ooh, if he was feeling a desire to indulge his sweet tooth, there was the tray of golden, oat-topped apple rhubarb crumble, already missing a few portions, or the tray of rum raisin brownies…
Theo’s stomach rumbled. He rubbed his hand absently over its swell as he contemplated his options, before deciding he would obviously never be able to decide on dinner without a pre-meal snack. He poured himself a generous glass of milk, and plated up a couple of brownies. His stomach rumbled again. Hmm, alright, three brownies. His mouth began to water.
Theo had, at first, made rules for himself. Sensible, proper portions, eaten at the table, at sensible proper times. Along with sensible, ugh, proper, zzzz, exercise.
Obviously, ridiculous rules like those hadn’t lasted once he’d discovered his gourmet talents. Those were rules for dry bachelor chicken, not for a sneaky bite of fragrant shepherd’s pie snatched between meetings, just enough time to congratulate himself on the perfect texture of the golden-brown cheese-crumbled potato crust. After all, he thought to himself the first time he ate a full, luscious meal standing in front of the fridge at 2am, didn’t Unprecedented Times call for a few Unprecedented Treats? Just for a little while?
Upon further consideration, Theo took a fourth brownie from the fridge, and, rather than adding it to a crowded plate, took an immediate bite. Theo had tried rather a lot of brownie recipes in lockdown, and had discovered this one while contemplating how to use up some extra rum in the liquor section of his pantry without getting ill-advisedly solo drunk. Now, upon first bite, the effect was immediate: a riot of sweetness and boozy delight, a sense of serenity deep within. A second bite, and a third, and the brownie was gone. Well that won’t do, this glass of milk needs a little more substance to balance it out. The fifth brownie was duly added to his now rather crowded plate.
As Theo settled in front of his computer and began polishing off the brownies, he heard a difficult sound to identify, felt an odd sensation about his hips, like a sense of tension and release.
Huh. Wha – oh. Ah.
The tie of his robe had loosened of its own accord to accommodate him, pushed out by the pressure of his belly as he sat.
Hmm. That really didn’t bear consideration.
Theo decided not to think about it. He also decided not to notice the odd little tingle of awareness at the back of his mind that seemed to … enjoy it? Nah, definitely not.
