elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
~BBW, ~MWG, Romance – Time and circumstance play a role in a couple’s romance
“I’m not the cutest puppy in the pound so you better be sure you want to get serious. I tell all my dates that make it this far they should picture me as a 400 pound, chain smoking lump with bad skin who sits on the couch all day and orders them around.”
I think it was on our fourth date that Lorna broke out with that comment. It may seem extreme if you did not know her at all, but by that time I knew it was just part of her personality. A personality I had become quite fond of already.
Now it would not be truthful at all for me to say my attraction to Lorna was not somewhat based on attraction despite the fact that she was the very polar opposite of my type. Her bit about not being the cutest puppy in the pound is sheer modesty, Lorna is adorable even when I first saw her and she was somewhere between grunge and goth as far as style went.
Lorna spent most of her free time at the community collage chain smoking in the lounge with her multiple lip piercings, dyed black hair and baggy flannel and torn jeans. Not exactly approachable, and certainly not the type that would turn the head of a hard-partying jock like myself (well as much as one can be a jock at a community collage). Besides, Lorna was a tad thin for my tastes despite having some curves beneath her oversized shirts and baggy jeans, but I wouldn’t know that until later.
Still she caught my eye. Perhaps it was chance, since she sat slouched in the uncomfortable chairs in the lounge with her friends the same time I spent playing pool with my friends at the same lounge area. But maybe it was fate. After all she reciprocated all of my flirtatious glances after my many chance looks her way had become far too obvious to be considered subtle.
It was a random day when she happened to be alone that I got the nerve up to approach her. My line was a very lame, “Friends aren’t here yet, huh?”
“Why, you wanna be my new friend?” she replied with a wry smile. It was that kind of not quite mean, but certainly not overly friendly attitude, and I think that’s what drew me to her.
“I don’t know yet,” trying to recover from my initial dorkiness. “Why don’t you let me buy you lunch and I can find out.”
Not a flawless recovery, but it worked. The first lunch was good. She seemed to enjoy the upper hand of being the one who was asked out, and I enjoyed looking into her gray-blue eyes as she explained how school wasn’t really her thing but neither was sitting around her parents’ house relying on them for money so she had randomly picked dental hygienist as a career path after being assistant manager at the toy store at the mall did not seem like a job she could do her whole life.
I won’t exaggerate and say I was suave or that I even had any good stories t tell her, but I did not need to. Just listening seemed to get me on her good side and after two more lunch dates I got an offer for dinner and a movie accepted. That date went well enough that I learned two things, well three actually; Lorna had quite the voluptuous figure beneath the many layers of fabric she covered up with, you have to be very careful kissing someone with multiple lip piercings – for your sake and theirs, and making out with a smoker is every bit as awful as people make it out to be. Ah the things we put up with when we are smitten with someone.
Inside of two weeks after our first date Lorna and I were that inseparable couple who eventually got told to get a room at every party we showed up to. Things stayed like that for a while. I was into her and she was into me. It was an extended honeymoon period for us.
During that time Lorna learned a little more of my preference of woman. It was the morning after our typical Friday of partying (even though it was just a community collage the students could throw a bash with the best of the four years schools). We were lying in my bed hanging on as long as we could before she had to get up to go sell toys and I had a school project to start on.
“Who was that girl that came up and hugged you last night?” Lorna asked between kisses.
“An ex,” I answered tentatively, knowing exactly who she was referring to.
“Wow, she got fat.”
I hesitated a minute and then said, “She was about that size when we dated. It wasn’t that long ago.”
Lorna gave me a curious look as if trying to see if I was pulling her leg. “She must be amazing in bed for you to overlook a belly like that.”
“You’re much better.” It seemed like a good thing to clear up right away. “But just so you know some of us guys don’t consider a round tummy something that needs to be overlooked.”
It took her a minute to process my statement. “Wow, and here I was nervous about my little beer-belly,” she said pulling back the sheets and patting her small pooch that had developed thanks to her ability to drink like a guy and plenty of dinner and a movie date nights. Still she was far from fat or even chubby. You’d be hard pressed to call someone who wears size 6 jeans fat no matter how many curves they have.
We stopped talking after that as I showed her just how much I appreciated her “beer-belly” along with the rest of her before she had to leave.
Things stayed good for us throughout the remaining three semesters of school before Lorna graduated. The honeymoon period definitely gave way to a more settled and comfortable boyfriend girlfriend stage during that time, but that was not a bad thing. She also left the goth look behind as she did away with the lip piercings after they proved too much work to keep up and slowly let her natural sandy colored hair grow out. Unfortunately she stayed a pack a day smoker, but believe it or not I got used to it by then.
Never one for change I remained the same jock with the shaggy hair throughout school.
Another thing was changing for Lorna as well, but that I did not take note of until her graduation day.
Having settled into being a couple or not I was still a man, so after a long day of ceremonies and the family gathering I was anxious for some alone time. With a backyard full of Lorna’s relatives wishing to congratulate her any time with her at all was hard to come by, so I followed her inside on a drink run and hurriedly tried to get her in the same mood I was so she would agree to stealing a few moments alone in her room.
In my rush to undo her jeans I barely noticed how pliable the small ridge above her belt was and how snug those jeans were.
Lorna allowed the zipper to get tugged down and for me to plant a few kisses on the back of her neck before putting a stop to things.
“Enough of that, Jake, my Great Aunt Lou-Lou is waiting for her iced tea and at her age every second counts.” She turned and shoed me away. When she hoisted up her shirt to fasten her jeans it was then that I noticed the substantial muffin-top she was sporting. Then I took notice of the struggle she engaged in to try and close the button of her pants. She huffed and sucked in to no avail. “Screw it. I should’ve passed on the second cheeseburger. It’s too hot for pants anyway. I’ll go change into shorts. Take this out to Lou-Lou for me, huh.” Then she kicked off her flip-flops and peeled down her denim.
I certainly took time to admire. I was well aware of her curvy legs, but just how close her little pooch was to becoming a belly had escaped me seeing as I saw her every day.
After she hurried down the hall I grabbed her discard pants to stash in the laundry room. Just by chance I noticed the tag calling out the fact that it was not the size 6 that I had assumed, but rather an 8.
That night started something of a resurgence in our intimacy. Lorna was probably not completely clear on why, but she did not complain.
After that resurgence there came a rough patch in our relationship. With Lorna out of school and forced to join the workforce and grow up she became frustrated with my lackadaisical college lifestyle of partying all night and sleeping all day. It was not terrible and neither of us did anything that we regretted, but there was one official “break” and at least two periods of awkward silences even when we met up. But we survived and at my graduation we were as close as ever, which made both of us think about the next step.
Lorna was eight months into a job at the local dental office and I was starting as a fabricator for a custom bike shop. Neither of us had to worry about where to dump the truckloads of money, but we were both gainfully employed and anxious to end our current leases. Both of us were stuck with multiple roommates whom we were ready to bid farewell to. It made sense that we move in together. To me it was not the major hurdle it is with a lot of guys. Maybe I’m just wired differently in general, but I was very excited for it to happen. And so it was, the summer after I graduated became the summer Lorna and I signed the lease on a one bedroom, one bath apartment that appeared to have been last decorated around the time Flashdance hit theaters.
We quickly settled into something of a rut. Certainly understandable with me working twelve hour days and Lorna working tens. She would come home and shower and wait for me to call to ask what I should bring home for dinner (neither of us were much for cooking). I would get home with a big bag of whatever we were craving that evening and shower the stench of the shop floor off me. Then it was dinner on the couch in front of the TV, followed by more TV until it was time to get to bed so we could do it all again the next day.
Granted there were some fluctuations; Wednesday softball for both of us, Thursday bowling for me and dinner with her sister about once a month for Lorna.
Now I know what you are probably thinking. Knowing I’m a guy who likes a little extra on his woman’s frame you’re probably thinking I was in heaven. A diet of junk food and little activity, you probably think I was laying the groundwork for Lorna’s little belly to explode. Honestly I was not. I gave it little thought. I grew up in a house where the oven got started only when grandma came over and shamed my mom into it. Eating out was just a way of life. Besides I was sweating gallons at work on the shop floor everyday so while I was not flexing my abs in the mirror every morning I was so far safe from upsizing my pants.
Lorna I also figured was in no danger of rounding much more. Despite her picking up a size that I knew about and her settling into dinners that had to be unwrapped I knew eating for her was just an excuse to break out the cigarettes afterward. She nibbled on fries and sipped a coke until she felt the nagging urge to light up. So I never really spent much thought on her gaining much more.
Not that she really had to. She already had a thick rump, a soft, squishy belly and most of her C cup bras were dangerously overfull. I had more then enough to hang onto or watch jiggle when both of us felt up to a little roll in the hay.
Yet despite my obliviousness it was happening. I became less oblivious one day when I came home to find Lorna still in her uniform posing in front of the mirror.
“Getting ready for the annual dental assistant fashion show,” I quipped, not knowing what I was walking into.
“No, I’m getting ready for a weeklong fast,” Lorna snapped, staring down her profile in the mirror. “Doctor Ruess asked me if I was pregnant today.”
I remembered Doctor Ruess from the Christmas party. Leave it to a middle aged bachelor to be completely devoid of common sense when dealing with women at work.
“Did he cry when you smacked him across the face,” I smirked.
Lorna huffed. “I need the job so I couldn’t smack him, but that would not have changed the fact that I am becoming a little heifer.” She pulled up her scrub top and patted her rounded paunch. It was where most of her weight settled. Not huge by any means, but soft and round with a nice ridge created whenever she wore jeans.
I walked over and gave her tummy a loving pat. “Very cute if you ask me.”
“Says the guy who has dated women who needed to allow for extra time getting ready in the morning if they were going to where shoes that needed to be tied.”
“Clever. You spend all day thinking that one up?”
“No just came to me after I opted to wear my crocs to work today because I was running late.”
And if Lorna’s lighthearted comment let me know she was not as distraught as her overdramatic scrutinizing in the mirror made me think she was initially her changing into a pair of denim shorts for softball clued me in to what I had been overlooking to that point. Her favorite shorts pulled tight everywhere and creased around the zipper area where the lower bulge of her belly bubbled out.
There was a short period of yo-yo dieting after that. The most successful of which was her foray into the low carb craze. Like everyone else though all the pounds she was able to drop by cutting out breads was welcomed back with a few friends when she caved and went back to eating pasta and crackers and donuts.
The settled confortability of our live-in couple status blended into our status as an engaged couple after I proposed to her on one of our vacations. Without a great deal of disposable income our vacations mostly consisted of road trips to places of interest to us. I should also probably explain Lorna’s little quirk of wanting to have a provocative picture of herself in front of all the sights we took in. It was kind of a thing for her, it got her revved up. It did not do anything for me but make me nervous when she lifted her shirt in at a Grand Canyon lookout to reveal no bra, or lifting her skirt on route 69. I went along with it however for the benefit of the porno quality sessions in the hotel afterward. Even looking at the pictures later would often spark her fire which was definitely not a bad thing in my opinion.
I share this because it leads into my proposal. We were at the beach in South Carolina when Lorna decided she wanted a picture of her skinny dipping in the ocean to add to her collection. Of course that had to be done at night and I think we actually ended up on someone’s private property since all the public beaches were patrolled. So after snapping a few shots of her sans swimsuit in front of some guy’s docked Ski-do I dropped to one knee and presented to her my secretly purchased engagement ring and asked her to be with me forever. Of course when we explained it to people afterward we simply mentioned the very romantic moonlit dock and failed to mention what we were doing at the time. I would however tell people how she never verbally responded to my question, which also struck my friends and relatives as odd. But of course they were not there and did not get the twenty minute long tight embrace from Lorna that gave me all the answer I needed.
The time leading up to the wedding was stressful, but not overly so. I knew enough to let her make the decisions and not mention money at all (well not right away, but I was a quick leaner), so things went relatively smoothly. But being engaged brought up a different topic of conversation: kids.
One night in front of the TV Lorna straddled me on the couch. “So how many little rugrats do you want running around after we get hitched?” she asked.
“As many as God intends for us to have,” I said in a mock southern drawl that mimicked some guy on a reality show we saw an ad for about a couple with over a dozen kids.
Lorna made a loud buzzing sound. “Wrong answer. Care to try again?”
“Well if we get a boy on the first try I’d be happy with one.”
“Much better.” She reached over into the side table and pulled out her stash of smokes.
While she lit up I thought of not saying anything, but even if I had gotten past the smell and expense if we were deciding to have kids it was going to have to be discussed.
“So we’ll start trying right after you have your last cig, then?” I offered hopefully.
Lorna sighed hard. She knew without me having to tell her, but just like her growing tummy bulge she had put off doing anything substantial about it. “I can try, but I’ll be an absolute bitch to live with. The one time I tried back in college before we met, my roommate threatened to move out.”
“But will anything be drastically different then now?” I mocked trying to lighten the mood.
She smiled and shook her head and then crushed out the cigarette. “That’s why I’m marrying you, you putz, you always know what to say. But we’ll see if you’re so quick witted when I’m hurling dishes across the apartment because I’m withdrawing so hard.
Certainly there were some rough patches over the next few months leading up to the wedding. Most of the time I got fair warning when she was in a mood. “If you even try to come over here and change the channel I will kick you in the balls,” would be my greeting when I came home from work some days. All in all though, for a guy like me, things went pretty well. Lorna was serious about quitting and to substitute nicotine she was eating like it was her job and putting on weight like it was her hobby.
I will admit playing into it a bit by bringing home her favorites and sacrificing my portions so she could drown her withdraws in sugar and grease. A fair trade-ff I reasoned for inhaling second-hand smoke all this time. But with everything going on between getting of cigarettes and preparing for the wedding the topic did not come up until the day a few days before we were hitched.
We were in our bedroom preparing to not see one another for a day and a half. The following day I was having my bachelor party with some friends taking me to an Indian’s game and Lorna was having her bachelorette party at a spa up north.
She was again in front of the mirror, this time naked. “You know you’re about to marry a cow, right Jake?”
“What’s that,” I said from the bed where I was recovering from one of our last lovemaking sessions as boyfriend girlfriend.
“They had to take out my dress again at the fitting today.” And for good reason. Her belly had pushed past her chest for prominence as it had gotten bigger while her bosom had started to sag under the increased weight of their expansion. Plus her face had definitely developed into the round full face of a pudgy woman.
“You just quit smoking after, what, ten years. Concentrate on that victory,” I consoled. “Plus if things go well you’ll be preggers by the time we get back from our honeymoon so that being a cow thing will make sense.”
She flashed me a scowl and then came to bed. “Well as long as you’re okay with it…you’re the one who’ll have to see my fat ass naked every night for the rest of our lives.” She playfully pushed me to make room for herself on the bed.
Looking forward to it,” I said scootching closer to her and nuzzling her neck.
The wedding was amazing. Lorna did look a little poured into her dress, but for me that was far from a negative. We said our vows and then partied until we were the only ones left.
Up in the honeymoon suite we “partied” even harder by ourselves. In fact if she did not get pregnant from that night I would have scheduled a doctor appointment to find out what was wrong with my equipment. No checking of the tool was needed as once back from Hawaii Lorna got what she thought was food poisoning, but turned out instead to be morning sickness.
“I’m with child!” she exclaimed excitedly when she came home from her doctor visit. “And also fifty pounds overweight,” she added much less excitedly.
“So what does that mean?” I asked after hugging her.”
“Nothing really. My doctor said there isn’t a real concern yet. It’s just no fun having the doctor call you a fatty while you’re standing on the scale.”
“She did not say that.”
“Well no,” Lorna admitted. “But ‘wow, you’re a little bigger then last time you were in’ does not exactly give me a warm fuzzy feeling.
“Imagine what she would have said if you were still smoking?”
“True. She was very happy when I told her I quite.”
“So half a banana and a rice cake for supper?” I asked tentatively.
“Not a chance. Get in the kitchen and make me a couple egg sandwiches. I’ve been craving those bad all morning.”
And so our nine months of life changing started. If I had been somewhat oblivious to her eating and slight weight gain before, I was in tune at that point. In fact I probably played into her eating and cravings more then I should have, but I had an excuse: I was substituting feeding my gorging wife in place of sex. Yes Lorna was honestly never in the mood after about the second month. No real reason was given, and none was needed. She was growing our new family member, if she did not feel like being intimate then it was just something I had to deal with.
Of course with me supplying food to her left and right Lorna expanded like rising bread dough. She outgrew all her everyday clothes somewhere during the third month. Before her bellybutton popped her belly skin was stretching. Her breasts that had always been good sized but were lately overshadowed by her belly, swelled up a size and took on a roundness that turned the heads of just about every guy that saw her. Not long after her belly followed suit, filling out to a nice big orb. By six months she was a sweating, waddling beauty whose pale white tummy bulge peeked out the bottom of all her work shirts.
She retained a ton of water, her face bloated into an extreme version of cherubic cuteness. Being on her feet all day caused her feet and legs to swell up to epic proportions. Many evenings I spent giving foot rubs while she complained about her day. And that was fine with me since it was the most physical contact I got by that point.
Every doctor visit got the polite but firm comment, “You’re a tad heavier then I’d like to see you.” Which got a delayed reaction of “Screw you. I’ll eat what I want,” as soon as we got home.
My Lorna followed through on that statement, eating herself into the largest maternity clothes we could find. By eight months she had thrown in the towel and taken a leave of absence from work. Her belly was far too protruding to reach across to get to a patient’s mouth, so Lorna retreated to the couch where she could set the temperature to 65 and set up the fan to blow on high right at her.
The event itself was pretty smooth. Lorna woke up one night at 11 and said very calmly it’s time and eight hours later we were parents.
Upon getting home from the hospital there was the harsh realization that giving birth did not erase nine months of overindulging. In fact added to the weight she had prior to getting pregnant Lorna was close to being 100 pounds overweight. “Maybe I should have listened more to the doctor,” she noted casually a couple times when she ran into maternity wear that was still uncomfortably tight. “If I ever hope to lose this I’ll have to start smoking and get lipo.”
Of course to me she was a vision. Rolls of pale flesh oozing down in front of her panties and heavy hanging breasts striped with stretch marks. But of course there was a couple months of waiting until Lorna was ready for me to appreciate her new form. Once she gave me that okay I wasted no time scheduling a time the grandparents could watch our bundle of joy and setting up the most romantic setting I could, which subsequently got ignored as we ended up rolling around on the living room floor as soon as the in-laws left.
In our haste to enjoy intimacy again we neglected to take any precautions and after a nightlong session of lovemaking it was inevitable that Lorna would soon be experiencing morning sickness just a few weeks later.
Seven months after that my Lorna was settled on the couch. She had learned her lesson after trying to work on her feet for ten hours at eight months pregnant the first time and taken her leave of absence a little earlier this time.
Her eating habits had remained the same, and she took up most of the couch with her baby belly and added girth that had joined her already excessive extra baggage. With her feet up on pillow on the coffee table and dipping Cheetos in peanut butter she smiled at me when I walked in from work and recalled the very phrase that had me journeying down memory lane in the first place.
“Do you remember when I told you’d better be sure you want to get serious with me because I’d likely end up a whale if you’d marry me?”
I smiled and gave her baby belly a kiss as I did every day when I came home. “I believe you said I should imagine you as a 400 pound chain smoking lump,” I corrected. “And you are no where near that weight and you quit smoking a year ago. So I’d still have a hard time picturing a lump when I have my beautiful wife here to take in instead.”
My overemotional wife started tearing up. “That’s so sweet, but stop it you’re making me cry.” She dabbed her eyes and then took another bite of cheese puffs and peanut butter. “I just wanted to make sure you’re not missing the stick thin, smoker with jet black hair and skin that was not riddled with stretch marks that you met back in collage. I know you have a thing for a little extra, but I’m almost the size of a house.”
“Not one bit.” I would have answered her immediately if I had not paused her give her mountainous belly another big kiss. “I have my Lorna and that’s all I need.”
My Lorna
by elroycohen
by elroycohen
“I’m not the cutest puppy in the pound so you better be sure you want to get serious. I tell all my dates that make it this far they should picture me as a 400 pound, chain smoking lump with bad skin who sits on the couch all day and orders them around.”
I think it was on our fourth date that Lorna broke out with that comment. It may seem extreme if you did not know her at all, but by that time I knew it was just part of her personality. A personality I had become quite fond of already.
Now it would not be truthful at all for me to say my attraction to Lorna was not somewhat based on attraction despite the fact that she was the very polar opposite of my type. Her bit about not being the cutest puppy in the pound is sheer modesty, Lorna is adorable even when I first saw her and she was somewhere between grunge and goth as far as style went.
Lorna spent most of her free time at the community collage chain smoking in the lounge with her multiple lip piercings, dyed black hair and baggy flannel and torn jeans. Not exactly approachable, and certainly not the type that would turn the head of a hard-partying jock like myself (well as much as one can be a jock at a community collage). Besides, Lorna was a tad thin for my tastes despite having some curves beneath her oversized shirts and baggy jeans, but I wouldn’t know that until later.
Still she caught my eye. Perhaps it was chance, since she sat slouched in the uncomfortable chairs in the lounge with her friends the same time I spent playing pool with my friends at the same lounge area. But maybe it was fate. After all she reciprocated all of my flirtatious glances after my many chance looks her way had become far too obvious to be considered subtle.
It was a random day when she happened to be alone that I got the nerve up to approach her. My line was a very lame, “Friends aren’t here yet, huh?”
“Why, you wanna be my new friend?” she replied with a wry smile. It was that kind of not quite mean, but certainly not overly friendly attitude, and I think that’s what drew me to her.
“I don’t know yet,” trying to recover from my initial dorkiness. “Why don’t you let me buy you lunch and I can find out.”
Not a flawless recovery, but it worked. The first lunch was good. She seemed to enjoy the upper hand of being the one who was asked out, and I enjoyed looking into her gray-blue eyes as she explained how school wasn’t really her thing but neither was sitting around her parents’ house relying on them for money so she had randomly picked dental hygienist as a career path after being assistant manager at the toy store at the mall did not seem like a job she could do her whole life.
I won’t exaggerate and say I was suave or that I even had any good stories t tell her, but I did not need to. Just listening seemed to get me on her good side and after two more lunch dates I got an offer for dinner and a movie accepted. That date went well enough that I learned two things, well three actually; Lorna had quite the voluptuous figure beneath the many layers of fabric she covered up with, you have to be very careful kissing someone with multiple lip piercings – for your sake and theirs, and making out with a smoker is every bit as awful as people make it out to be. Ah the things we put up with when we are smitten with someone.
Inside of two weeks after our first date Lorna and I were that inseparable couple who eventually got told to get a room at every party we showed up to. Things stayed like that for a while. I was into her and she was into me. It was an extended honeymoon period for us.
During that time Lorna learned a little more of my preference of woman. It was the morning after our typical Friday of partying (even though it was just a community collage the students could throw a bash with the best of the four years schools). We were lying in my bed hanging on as long as we could before she had to get up to go sell toys and I had a school project to start on.
“Who was that girl that came up and hugged you last night?” Lorna asked between kisses.
“An ex,” I answered tentatively, knowing exactly who she was referring to.
“Wow, she got fat.”
I hesitated a minute and then said, “She was about that size when we dated. It wasn’t that long ago.”
Lorna gave me a curious look as if trying to see if I was pulling her leg. “She must be amazing in bed for you to overlook a belly like that.”
“You’re much better.” It seemed like a good thing to clear up right away. “But just so you know some of us guys don’t consider a round tummy something that needs to be overlooked.”
It took her a minute to process my statement. “Wow, and here I was nervous about my little beer-belly,” she said pulling back the sheets and patting her small pooch that had developed thanks to her ability to drink like a guy and plenty of dinner and a movie date nights. Still she was far from fat or even chubby. You’d be hard pressed to call someone who wears size 6 jeans fat no matter how many curves they have.
We stopped talking after that as I showed her just how much I appreciated her “beer-belly” along with the rest of her before she had to leave.
Things stayed good for us throughout the remaining three semesters of school before Lorna graduated. The honeymoon period definitely gave way to a more settled and comfortable boyfriend girlfriend stage during that time, but that was not a bad thing. She also left the goth look behind as she did away with the lip piercings after they proved too much work to keep up and slowly let her natural sandy colored hair grow out. Unfortunately she stayed a pack a day smoker, but believe it or not I got used to it by then.
Never one for change I remained the same jock with the shaggy hair throughout school.
Another thing was changing for Lorna as well, but that I did not take note of until her graduation day.
Having settled into being a couple or not I was still a man, so after a long day of ceremonies and the family gathering I was anxious for some alone time. With a backyard full of Lorna’s relatives wishing to congratulate her any time with her at all was hard to come by, so I followed her inside on a drink run and hurriedly tried to get her in the same mood I was so she would agree to stealing a few moments alone in her room.
In my rush to undo her jeans I barely noticed how pliable the small ridge above her belt was and how snug those jeans were.
Lorna allowed the zipper to get tugged down and for me to plant a few kisses on the back of her neck before putting a stop to things.
“Enough of that, Jake, my Great Aunt Lou-Lou is waiting for her iced tea and at her age every second counts.” She turned and shoed me away. When she hoisted up her shirt to fasten her jeans it was then that I noticed the substantial muffin-top she was sporting. Then I took notice of the struggle she engaged in to try and close the button of her pants. She huffed and sucked in to no avail. “Screw it. I should’ve passed on the second cheeseburger. It’s too hot for pants anyway. I’ll go change into shorts. Take this out to Lou-Lou for me, huh.” Then she kicked off her flip-flops and peeled down her denim.
I certainly took time to admire. I was well aware of her curvy legs, but just how close her little pooch was to becoming a belly had escaped me seeing as I saw her every day.
After she hurried down the hall I grabbed her discard pants to stash in the laundry room. Just by chance I noticed the tag calling out the fact that it was not the size 6 that I had assumed, but rather an 8.
That night started something of a resurgence in our intimacy. Lorna was probably not completely clear on why, but she did not complain.
After that resurgence there came a rough patch in our relationship. With Lorna out of school and forced to join the workforce and grow up she became frustrated with my lackadaisical college lifestyle of partying all night and sleeping all day. It was not terrible and neither of us did anything that we regretted, but there was one official “break” and at least two periods of awkward silences even when we met up. But we survived and at my graduation we were as close as ever, which made both of us think about the next step.
Lorna was eight months into a job at the local dental office and I was starting as a fabricator for a custom bike shop. Neither of us had to worry about where to dump the truckloads of money, but we were both gainfully employed and anxious to end our current leases. Both of us were stuck with multiple roommates whom we were ready to bid farewell to. It made sense that we move in together. To me it was not the major hurdle it is with a lot of guys. Maybe I’m just wired differently in general, but I was very excited for it to happen. And so it was, the summer after I graduated became the summer Lorna and I signed the lease on a one bedroom, one bath apartment that appeared to have been last decorated around the time Flashdance hit theaters.
We quickly settled into something of a rut. Certainly understandable with me working twelve hour days and Lorna working tens. She would come home and shower and wait for me to call to ask what I should bring home for dinner (neither of us were much for cooking). I would get home with a big bag of whatever we were craving that evening and shower the stench of the shop floor off me. Then it was dinner on the couch in front of the TV, followed by more TV until it was time to get to bed so we could do it all again the next day.
Granted there were some fluctuations; Wednesday softball for both of us, Thursday bowling for me and dinner with her sister about once a month for Lorna.
Now I know what you are probably thinking. Knowing I’m a guy who likes a little extra on his woman’s frame you’re probably thinking I was in heaven. A diet of junk food and little activity, you probably think I was laying the groundwork for Lorna’s little belly to explode. Honestly I was not. I gave it little thought. I grew up in a house where the oven got started only when grandma came over and shamed my mom into it. Eating out was just a way of life. Besides I was sweating gallons at work on the shop floor everyday so while I was not flexing my abs in the mirror every morning I was so far safe from upsizing my pants.
Lorna I also figured was in no danger of rounding much more. Despite her picking up a size that I knew about and her settling into dinners that had to be unwrapped I knew eating for her was just an excuse to break out the cigarettes afterward. She nibbled on fries and sipped a coke until she felt the nagging urge to light up. So I never really spent much thought on her gaining much more.
Not that she really had to. She already had a thick rump, a soft, squishy belly and most of her C cup bras were dangerously overfull. I had more then enough to hang onto or watch jiggle when both of us felt up to a little roll in the hay.
Yet despite my obliviousness it was happening. I became less oblivious one day when I came home to find Lorna still in her uniform posing in front of the mirror.
“Getting ready for the annual dental assistant fashion show,” I quipped, not knowing what I was walking into.
“No, I’m getting ready for a weeklong fast,” Lorna snapped, staring down her profile in the mirror. “Doctor Ruess asked me if I was pregnant today.”
I remembered Doctor Ruess from the Christmas party. Leave it to a middle aged bachelor to be completely devoid of common sense when dealing with women at work.
“Did he cry when you smacked him across the face,” I smirked.
Lorna huffed. “I need the job so I couldn’t smack him, but that would not have changed the fact that I am becoming a little heifer.” She pulled up her scrub top and patted her rounded paunch. It was where most of her weight settled. Not huge by any means, but soft and round with a nice ridge created whenever she wore jeans.
I walked over and gave her tummy a loving pat. “Very cute if you ask me.”
“Says the guy who has dated women who needed to allow for extra time getting ready in the morning if they were going to where shoes that needed to be tied.”
“Clever. You spend all day thinking that one up?”
“No just came to me after I opted to wear my crocs to work today because I was running late.”
And if Lorna’s lighthearted comment let me know she was not as distraught as her overdramatic scrutinizing in the mirror made me think she was initially her changing into a pair of denim shorts for softball clued me in to what I had been overlooking to that point. Her favorite shorts pulled tight everywhere and creased around the zipper area where the lower bulge of her belly bubbled out.
There was a short period of yo-yo dieting after that. The most successful of which was her foray into the low carb craze. Like everyone else though all the pounds she was able to drop by cutting out breads was welcomed back with a few friends when she caved and went back to eating pasta and crackers and donuts.
The settled confortability of our live-in couple status blended into our status as an engaged couple after I proposed to her on one of our vacations. Without a great deal of disposable income our vacations mostly consisted of road trips to places of interest to us. I should also probably explain Lorna’s little quirk of wanting to have a provocative picture of herself in front of all the sights we took in. It was kind of a thing for her, it got her revved up. It did not do anything for me but make me nervous when she lifted her shirt in at a Grand Canyon lookout to reveal no bra, or lifting her skirt on route 69. I went along with it however for the benefit of the porno quality sessions in the hotel afterward. Even looking at the pictures later would often spark her fire which was definitely not a bad thing in my opinion.
I share this because it leads into my proposal. We were at the beach in South Carolina when Lorna decided she wanted a picture of her skinny dipping in the ocean to add to her collection. Of course that had to be done at night and I think we actually ended up on someone’s private property since all the public beaches were patrolled. So after snapping a few shots of her sans swimsuit in front of some guy’s docked Ski-do I dropped to one knee and presented to her my secretly purchased engagement ring and asked her to be with me forever. Of course when we explained it to people afterward we simply mentioned the very romantic moonlit dock and failed to mention what we were doing at the time. I would however tell people how she never verbally responded to my question, which also struck my friends and relatives as odd. But of course they were not there and did not get the twenty minute long tight embrace from Lorna that gave me all the answer I needed.
The time leading up to the wedding was stressful, but not overly so. I knew enough to let her make the decisions and not mention money at all (well not right away, but I was a quick leaner), so things went relatively smoothly. But being engaged brought up a different topic of conversation: kids.
One night in front of the TV Lorna straddled me on the couch. “So how many little rugrats do you want running around after we get hitched?” she asked.
“As many as God intends for us to have,” I said in a mock southern drawl that mimicked some guy on a reality show we saw an ad for about a couple with over a dozen kids.
Lorna made a loud buzzing sound. “Wrong answer. Care to try again?”
“Well if we get a boy on the first try I’d be happy with one.”
“Much better.” She reached over into the side table and pulled out her stash of smokes.
While she lit up I thought of not saying anything, but even if I had gotten past the smell and expense if we were deciding to have kids it was going to have to be discussed.
“So we’ll start trying right after you have your last cig, then?” I offered hopefully.
Lorna sighed hard. She knew without me having to tell her, but just like her growing tummy bulge she had put off doing anything substantial about it. “I can try, but I’ll be an absolute bitch to live with. The one time I tried back in college before we met, my roommate threatened to move out.”
“But will anything be drastically different then now?” I mocked trying to lighten the mood.
She smiled and shook her head and then crushed out the cigarette. “That’s why I’m marrying you, you putz, you always know what to say. But we’ll see if you’re so quick witted when I’m hurling dishes across the apartment because I’m withdrawing so hard.
Certainly there were some rough patches over the next few months leading up to the wedding. Most of the time I got fair warning when she was in a mood. “If you even try to come over here and change the channel I will kick you in the balls,” would be my greeting when I came home from work some days. All in all though, for a guy like me, things went pretty well. Lorna was serious about quitting and to substitute nicotine she was eating like it was her job and putting on weight like it was her hobby.
I will admit playing into it a bit by bringing home her favorites and sacrificing my portions so she could drown her withdraws in sugar and grease. A fair trade-ff I reasoned for inhaling second-hand smoke all this time. But with everything going on between getting of cigarettes and preparing for the wedding the topic did not come up until the day a few days before we were hitched.
We were in our bedroom preparing to not see one another for a day and a half. The following day I was having my bachelor party with some friends taking me to an Indian’s game and Lorna was having her bachelorette party at a spa up north.
She was again in front of the mirror, this time naked. “You know you’re about to marry a cow, right Jake?”
“What’s that,” I said from the bed where I was recovering from one of our last lovemaking sessions as boyfriend girlfriend.
“They had to take out my dress again at the fitting today.” And for good reason. Her belly had pushed past her chest for prominence as it had gotten bigger while her bosom had started to sag under the increased weight of their expansion. Plus her face had definitely developed into the round full face of a pudgy woman.
“You just quit smoking after, what, ten years. Concentrate on that victory,” I consoled. “Plus if things go well you’ll be preggers by the time we get back from our honeymoon so that being a cow thing will make sense.”
She flashed me a scowl and then came to bed. “Well as long as you’re okay with it…you’re the one who’ll have to see my fat ass naked every night for the rest of our lives.” She playfully pushed me to make room for herself on the bed.
Looking forward to it,” I said scootching closer to her and nuzzling her neck.
The wedding was amazing. Lorna did look a little poured into her dress, but for me that was far from a negative. We said our vows and then partied until we were the only ones left.
Up in the honeymoon suite we “partied” even harder by ourselves. In fact if she did not get pregnant from that night I would have scheduled a doctor appointment to find out what was wrong with my equipment. No checking of the tool was needed as once back from Hawaii Lorna got what she thought was food poisoning, but turned out instead to be morning sickness.
“I’m with child!” she exclaimed excitedly when she came home from her doctor visit. “And also fifty pounds overweight,” she added much less excitedly.
“So what does that mean?” I asked after hugging her.”
“Nothing really. My doctor said there isn’t a real concern yet. It’s just no fun having the doctor call you a fatty while you’re standing on the scale.”
“She did not say that.”
“Well no,” Lorna admitted. “But ‘wow, you’re a little bigger then last time you were in’ does not exactly give me a warm fuzzy feeling.
“Imagine what she would have said if you were still smoking?”
“True. She was very happy when I told her I quite.”
“So half a banana and a rice cake for supper?” I asked tentatively.
“Not a chance. Get in the kitchen and make me a couple egg sandwiches. I’ve been craving those bad all morning.”
And so our nine months of life changing started. If I had been somewhat oblivious to her eating and slight weight gain before, I was in tune at that point. In fact I probably played into her eating and cravings more then I should have, but I had an excuse: I was substituting feeding my gorging wife in place of sex. Yes Lorna was honestly never in the mood after about the second month. No real reason was given, and none was needed. She was growing our new family member, if she did not feel like being intimate then it was just something I had to deal with.
Of course with me supplying food to her left and right Lorna expanded like rising bread dough. She outgrew all her everyday clothes somewhere during the third month. Before her bellybutton popped her belly skin was stretching. Her breasts that had always been good sized but were lately overshadowed by her belly, swelled up a size and took on a roundness that turned the heads of just about every guy that saw her. Not long after her belly followed suit, filling out to a nice big orb. By six months she was a sweating, waddling beauty whose pale white tummy bulge peeked out the bottom of all her work shirts.
She retained a ton of water, her face bloated into an extreme version of cherubic cuteness. Being on her feet all day caused her feet and legs to swell up to epic proportions. Many evenings I spent giving foot rubs while she complained about her day. And that was fine with me since it was the most physical contact I got by that point.
Every doctor visit got the polite but firm comment, “You’re a tad heavier then I’d like to see you.” Which got a delayed reaction of “Screw you. I’ll eat what I want,” as soon as we got home.
My Lorna followed through on that statement, eating herself into the largest maternity clothes we could find. By eight months she had thrown in the towel and taken a leave of absence from work. Her belly was far too protruding to reach across to get to a patient’s mouth, so Lorna retreated to the couch where she could set the temperature to 65 and set up the fan to blow on high right at her.
The event itself was pretty smooth. Lorna woke up one night at 11 and said very calmly it’s time and eight hours later we were parents.
Upon getting home from the hospital there was the harsh realization that giving birth did not erase nine months of overindulging. In fact added to the weight she had prior to getting pregnant Lorna was close to being 100 pounds overweight. “Maybe I should have listened more to the doctor,” she noted casually a couple times when she ran into maternity wear that was still uncomfortably tight. “If I ever hope to lose this I’ll have to start smoking and get lipo.”
Of course to me she was a vision. Rolls of pale flesh oozing down in front of her panties and heavy hanging breasts striped with stretch marks. But of course there was a couple months of waiting until Lorna was ready for me to appreciate her new form. Once she gave me that okay I wasted no time scheduling a time the grandparents could watch our bundle of joy and setting up the most romantic setting I could, which subsequently got ignored as we ended up rolling around on the living room floor as soon as the in-laws left.
In our haste to enjoy intimacy again we neglected to take any precautions and after a nightlong session of lovemaking it was inevitable that Lorna would soon be experiencing morning sickness just a few weeks later.
Seven months after that my Lorna was settled on the couch. She had learned her lesson after trying to work on her feet for ten hours at eight months pregnant the first time and taken her leave of absence a little earlier this time.
Her eating habits had remained the same, and she took up most of the couch with her baby belly and added girth that had joined her already excessive extra baggage. With her feet up on pillow on the coffee table and dipping Cheetos in peanut butter she smiled at me when I walked in from work and recalled the very phrase that had me journeying down memory lane in the first place.
“Do you remember when I told you’d better be sure you want to get serious with me because I’d likely end up a whale if you’d marry me?”
I smiled and gave her baby belly a kiss as I did every day when I came home. “I believe you said I should imagine you as a 400 pound chain smoking lump,” I corrected. “And you are no where near that weight and you quit smoking a year ago. So I’d still have a hard time picturing a lump when I have my beautiful wife here to take in instead.”
My overemotional wife started tearing up. “That’s so sweet, but stop it you’re making me cry.” She dabbed her eyes and then took another bite of cheese puffs and peanut butter. “I just wanted to make sure you’re not missing the stick thin, smoker with jet black hair and skin that was not riddled with stretch marks that you met back in collage. I know you have a thing for a little extra, but I’m almost the size of a house.”
“Not one bit.” I would have answered her immediately if I had not paused her give her mountainous belly another big kiss. “I have my Lorna and that’s all I need.”
