wafflecone
Snuggle Hoarder
Feeding, ~BHM/~BBW, feeding, ~MWG
Author's Note: This is my first WG story! Let me know how I did.
Part I
It was the first course of a meal that could only be described as “monumental.” It was a first date, and Melanie was looking to impress her new conquest. His name was Magnus Williams, and he was beautiful.
He was a big man, standing at over six feet--somewhere between 6’3” and 6’4” was Melanie’s guess. He had broad, sturdy shoulders, long arms that looked like they would have no trouble taking down a bear, and an almost perfectly v-shaped torso. Melanie’s guess was that he was somewhere over two hundred pounds, though with his height it was difficult to tell. Magnus had an excellent smile. It stretched wide over his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. A smile you could trust.
He was unfailingly polite when he walked in the door in a very classy black sports jacket, blue dress shirt, and tie. Fitted beige dress pants and very nice, clearly expensive dress shoes completed the look. After cooing over how nice he looked, Melanie told him to relax in the living room, but he shook his head. “I can’t let you do all the work by yourself! Either let me help, or at least let me keep you company.”
She smiled and had him follow her to the kitchen and had him sit down at the island on one of the barstools. There were several plates of h’ors d’oeuvres, piled high. Home-baked fresh bread, of course, with a plate of olive oil and vinegar to dip it in. There was a bowl of olives and another bowl of bocconcini: balls of mozzarella with red pepper and herbs floating in olive oil. There was another plate of bacon-wrapped water chestnuts. Magnus tried everything with enthusiasm.
“This could be dinner right here!” he exclaimed. As he nibbled, he extolled the virtues of Melanie’s cooking.
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!” she replied as she darted around the kitchen, dropping salt and herbs into this or that pot, opening the oven to check on a dish, rifling through cabinets for stray ingredients, all the time keeping up a fantastic, intelligent conversation on modern film, both domestic and foreign.
Magnus watched appreciatively. Melanie was 5’4” and he guessed she was around a buck eighty. There was not a single part of her that was angular. Bones and muscle were subsumed in a layer of plush that not a single person who had tasted her bacon-wrapped water chestnuts could fault her for. She did not dress to hide this fact. In fact, she was in a curve-hugging purple silk wiggle dress that accentuated her hourglass shape.
The swell of her stomach was celebrated, rather than hidden, her bust clearly on display, but modestly. Her legs were shown to their best advantage with her feet in perfectly matched purple wedges. As Magnus observed the sway of her hips as she moved with the grace that came of experience and comfort in her space, he took an olive oil-smothered bite of bread, sighing. “Delicious.”
Twenty minutes later, Melanie sat Magnus down in the dining room. It was a smaller table, and the lighting was dimmed--much more intimate than the strong lighting of the kitchen. The candles were lit and rivulets of wax had already dripped down their sides, giving the currently empty table an air of expectancy.
Melanie exited and returned moments later with soup, setting one bowl down in front of Magnus before placing another in front of her own place setting at the opposite side of the square table. “This is beer cheese soup. My mom was from Wisconsin and used to make it all the time. It really never gets old.”
She smiled and took her first spoonful.
“Beer cheese soup? Melanie, you said you were making a five-course meal, but I don’t know how I’m going to be able to stop eating anything that has both beer and cheese in its name.”
He noted the popcorn garnish on top. It looked very elegant, which was a nod to Melanie’s plating skills, but it brought an air of comfort and casualness to the meal. Magnus took a spoonful and was immediately lost in the flavor. It was buttery and cheesy and spicy, with the tang of the beer tossed in for good measure. “This is excellent.”
Melanie smiled knowingly. As she ate and talked with him about the books that the San Francisco literati had been putting out lately--“I mean, I read them, and the writing is very good in its way, but that self-deprecating, stream-of consciousness style that Dave Eggers and Stephen Elliot and all of them do just really isn’t my thing.”
She watched him closely. He ate with gusto, not even attempting to hide his appetite. It was as if he hadn’t eaten in days, much less polished off the majority of the h’ors d’oeuvres by himself, which had been in amounts large enough to feed a party of five. In fact, he even asked for seconds. The chef in her wanted to deny him, knowing that there were still four courses to go, but the part of her that wanted to see him full to bursting and waddling back to his car by evening's end was much louder and very much in favor of feeding him as much as he wanted.
She took his plate and returned with a full one, removing her own plate and giving it a quick rinse before setting it in the dishwasher. She brought him his second plate and set it down. "There's still a few bowls left in the pot. Would you like me to pack it up for you before you leave?"
Magnus nodded. "How could I say no? It's divine!" The smile on Melanie's face was worth his saying yes, even if the soup turned out not to microwave well (which, in fact, it would).
As she left the room, Magnus watched her walk into the kitchen doorway, her long curly blonde hair haloing her. She did not look like an angel--she was far too lush for that. But a devil didn't fit her, either--she was too sweet. She was more like a muse, tempting and encouraging and looking perfectly ethereal and tempting herself all the while. He heard her moving around the kitchen and took a few moments to imagine unzipping that silky dress, watching it slide to the floor, glowingly pale curves coming into view--
But then she was back, this time carrying small, circular trays stacked on top of each other.
“Is that--is that dim sum?” he asked incredulously. Beer cheese soup was one thing, but homemade dim sum? That was to die for.
“It is!” she said excitedly as she opened the top of the stainless steel steamer baskets. “My personal favorite: cha siu biao. Nothing better than barbecue pork buns.”
Magnus agreed. Pork buns were always at the top of his list when he went to get dim sum. He’d never heard of anyone having it outside of a restaurant, and he was thoroughly impressed.
“Be right back.” She popped out again and he took in the smells. These were worth the price of admission. When Melanie returned, it was with a tray holding two small plates, a decanter of white wine, as well as two glasses and a bottle of sparkling water. She set the tray down and began spreading everything out on the table. As she poured some of the sparkling water into Magnus’ glass, he felt that he could get used to this sort of treatment.
She poured water for herself and then sat down. She took a sip. “Drink a little. I know most people don’t like sparkling water, but it’s a fantastic palate cleanser, which you really do need after a soup like that.”
She poured herself a glass of wine and gestured for him to do the same. As he poured, she placed one bun on her plate and cut it delicately into fourths with her silverware, chewing happily once the food made it to her mouth.
Magnus took his time with his bun. He wasn’t quite full, but he sensed that perhaps seconds on the soup had been a bad move. This was only the second course, after all, and pork buns were filling. He took one and at it just as she had. They talked about gaming, going from video games to tabletop games, sharing tales of friendships nearly broken during Monopoly, fantastic wins in Settlers of Catan, and glorious battles in Shadowrun. Soon enough, the three trays of pork buns were gone. At four buns per tray, that made twelve buns--nine of which had been consumed by Magnus, along with more of the wine.
Melanie cleared the table of plates and wine and returned with small bowls of sorbet. “It’s lime. I made it myself. This is only the fourth time I’ve tried this recipe, and it came out funny the last few times, but I think I got it.”
She took a bite and purred. “Oooh, I did get it right!”
She took another bite. “I got it really right. Mm!”
Magnus, who was almost full, was not sure if he should finish all of his sorbet. Once he took the first bite, he was not sure if he would be able to slow down enough while eating it to be polite. Like everything else, it was fabulous.
Once they were finished, the table was cleared again, and this time Melanie returned with a tray with two bowls of salad and a decanter of white wine. The salad, upon closer inspection, was filled with candied nuts (Magnus was sure that they did not come from the store), thin apple slices, dried cranberries, and an absolutely gargantuan strawberry on top of both salads.
“This dish is a little more simple. I thought about doing something more complex with meat or fish, but I thought something a little more understated would be better.”
“There hasn’t been a single simple dish tonight, Mel. Next I know you’re going to tell me you grew all of this yourself.”
Melanie’s quick blush and small smile revealed that he was, in fact, correct. “Not only are you intelligent and a fantastic cook--you garden, too?”
“Just a little here and there. We always had one when I was a kid, and with all the pesticides and genetic engineering today I just feel like it’s safer.”
“Wow.”
Melanie started on her salad, then asked, “So, Magnus, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m in marketing.” That was putting it mildly--he was the head of one of the best-known marketing firms in the country, perhaps the world.
“Tell me what that’s like.” As he talked about focus groups, analyzing research, working with graphic designers, and picky clients, Melanie listened intently. Magnus, as he was talking, was surprised. While he found his job very interesting and rewarding, few others did, and it was rare he found someone who understood his interest. It was even rarer for the interested party to be an intelligent, beautiful woman.
When the salads and white wine were finished, they were soon replaced by beef bourguignon, a loaf of homemade bread, soft butter, and a decanter of red wine. Conversation slowed during this course, with Melanie discussing the books she had been copy-editing for work recently. Halfway through his immense plate, Magnus could feel fullness pressing against his insides. He ate slowly, but with purpose.
Melanie could feel herself growing warm as she watched him. He would cut a large slice of bread, butter it, take a bite, and then dip it into the stew, reveling in the meaty, wine-drenched flavor. He talked a little, but mostly let Melanie keep the conversation going, as though his only purpose in life was eating this bowl of stew. He finished a glass of wine, and another, and he felt himself loosening a little, felt that he would be able to eat more.
The beef was perfectly cooked, soft and melting on his tongue. Slice after slice of bread slathered with butter went down his gullet, swelling his stomach. When he finished the bowl, he sat back. His normally flat stomach was bowed out, the buttons of his fitted shirt looking ever so slightly strained. His belt was uncomfortable, but he felt there was nothing for it but to try and sit comfortably. He did his best to breathe normally, adjusting himself so he was sitting with his legs wide, leaning back in his chair to give his stomach as much room as it needed.
Discreetly, he rubbed his swollen belly. The mild discomfort, though, was nothing to the warm feeling emanating from his engorged gut. He talked with Melanie about this and that, but he was halfway to heaven. He had never been fed so expertly in his life, and as he looked at the plump, smiling woman across the table from him, he sensed he would never find anyone who could feed him even half as well.
Melanie was all aflutter. She had brought many men to her table, and though some of them had been invited back a few more times, none had truly gobsmacked her with their appetite and willingness to eat whatever was placed in front of him. Never had a man asked for seconds, though many had looked like they wanted to. Never had a man looked so gloriously stuffed.
She wanted nothing more than to move her seat next to him, undo his belt, pants, and his shirt buttons, push his jacket to the side, and run her hands over the tiny mound making itself known, massaging it until he was comfortable.
It being the first date, however, she was worried about taking such a liberty. Instead, she took both of their bowls back into the kitchen and refilled them. Hers only had half a ladlefull in it, and it was mostly broth. His bowl, on the other hand, contained at least a half pound of meat, probably more, along with plenty of onions, carrots, shallots, and mushrooms. It was a full meal in itself. She put the bowls down and continued their conversation, pouring herself another glass of wine. It was a clear challenge, and she wanted to see if he was up to it.
Magnus, for a moment, was not sure if he could do it. He was already so full, and he could only imagine what another bowl would do to him. He was a big eater, but overindulgence on this scale was something with which he was unfamiliar. Even on holidays he hadn’t been tempted the way he was now. But something in Melanie’s eyes told him he could do it. And with the way she was looking at him over her wineglass--that tiny curving upward of her full lips, that ever-so-slight tilt of the head. This look told him that his efforts would be rewarded. He sat up, grabbed his fork, and after a deep breath, dove in. The vegetables disappeared first, then meat, and slices of buttered bread to go with it all.
When the meal was done, Magnus looked triumphant. She had challenged him, and he had exceeded all expectation. At the moment, though, he was severely uncomfortable. His belt dug deep into his stomach. He felt as though he was about to burst. Melanie surveyed him as though she were judging a prize hog at a county fair. Satisfied, she decided to give him a moment to collect himself. “I’m going to clean up a bit. You’re welcome to relax in the living room if you’d like.”
He nodded, and as she was gathering up plates and putting them on the serving tray, he asked her where the restroom was. “Down the hall, first door on the right.”
“Thanks.”
He stood with some difficulty and made his way to the bathroom. He opened up his shirt and took off his belt and observed himself in the mirror. He was swollen, no doubt about it. It hurt, too, but not enough to override the pleasure coursing through him. Magnus had never been so turned on in his life. He didn’t quite understand it. Sure, he liked to eat, but he had always kept himself in excellent shape. Seeing his stomach bowing outward, though, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to keep it that way.
He could hear food gurgling inside of him and groaned a little, poking and prodding at himself, adding pressure here and there. As he did this, he let out belches big and small, releasing some of the pressure inside himself. This helped with his comfort just enough that he was able to button his shirt up again and do his belt up again. He gave himself an extra notch, knowing that whatever Melanie was doing for dessert, it was going to be delicious enough that he would need the extra room.
In the kitchen, Melanie had pulled a pecan pie out of the fridge and was setting two large slices--one nearly a full quarter of the pie--on large, almost platter-like plates and covering them with homemade whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and cinnamon. Once that was done, she pulled a chocolate cake out of the fridge. It was made up of six thin layers, each with chocolate buttercream frosting in between. It was frosted with red vanilla buttercream frosting, with little white buttercream roses all along the top.
There was a fruit tart, too, with the fresh, ripe fruit arranged on top of the shortbread crust and custard in a beautiful pattern. To the plates she added one slice each of the chocolate cake and the fruit tart. Magnus, of course, got the lion’s share of each of these. Melanie, for a moment, wondered if she shouldn’t give him quite so much. It wouldn’t do to overwhelm him. But when she thought about how he’d torn into the main course, she went weak-kneed. He could eat what he was given, she was certain. He was not the sort of man to leave anything on his plate.
As Melanie was arranging their dessert on the coffee table in the living room, Magnus walked in. Melanie gave him a smile and he grinned back at her. She stood, smoothing the front of her dress. “I wasn’t sure what you’d feel like for dessert, so I tried a few different things.”
“It all looks fantastic.”
She sat down on the edge of the couch. Magnus sat beside her, realizing why she had sat on the edge of the couch. It was one of those couches that practically swallowed you up it was so cushy.
“Oof.” He felt lethargic. Too much food, too much comfort.
“I don’t know how I’m going to put all that away, Mel.” Melanie reached for a fork and cut off a piece of chocolate cake, holding it up to his mouth.
“I think you’ll find a way,” she cooed.
And somehow, he did. It was one of the most intimate experiences of his life. She fed him bite after bite and, somehow, he ate it all. The moist chocolate cake was so sweet it almost hurt his teeth, and yet he couldn’t stop eating it. The pecan pie was the best he’d ever had. The tart was a delightful end to the evening, light and fruity and utterly perfect.
By the time they were finished, that one extra notch seemed like not nearly enough--he needed two or three. Magnus took a moment to wonder just how many calories he had just consumed. The cake slice alone must’ve been at least a thousand, if not more with all that frosting, and the pecan pie, with all the whipped cream and chocolate sauce as probably close to that, too. The tart was likely around half that. He sighed contentedly. Three thousand calories just for dessert--what was this woman trying to do to him? He smiled at her. “Mel, that was lovely.”
“Thank you, Magnus.” She paused for a moment, her hands reaching out a little bit before finding their way back to her soft lap.
“Magnus, would you mind if I--” As she said this, she reached out her hands toward his stomach and began massaging. Her soft fingers worked deftly. She was clearly experienced. Magnus moaned.
“Ooh, you ate very well, big boy,” she purred. “We’ll fix that tummyache right up, won’t we. Shh, just relax, it’s alright.”
He let out a window-shattering burp. “That was impressive! Let’s see if we can’t give you a little more room than that, though.”
She continued rubbing his belly and all he could think was how good it felt, how he never wanted to leave this moment, with this gorgeous woman, her long hair tickling him through his shirt, fingers working towards his comfort. It was glorious.
Twenty minutes later, they were standing on her front porch. “That was really, um, really lovely, Melanie.” She blushed.
“Thanks. I really enjoyed having you over.”
“I’d love to come again. Anytime.”
Her smile was enormous. “I’d love to have you again.”
There was a moment of silence, and then he leaned in and kissed her. Melanie was surprised at first, but that dissipated quickly. He was as good at kissing as she was at giving tummy rubs. A few moments later, they broke apart, breathing heavily.
“I’d really love to have you again,” she breathed.
He chuckled. “I’ll call you. Have a good night.”
She watched as he walked to his car, waving as she pulled away. Then, she stepped inside her house, shut the door behind her, leaned against it, and sighed like the lovesick girl she was.
(Continued in post 5 of this thread)
Author's Note: This is my first WG story! Let me know how I did.
Nothin' Says Lovin' Like Something from the Oven
by Wafflecone
by Wafflecone
Part I
It was the first course of a meal that could only be described as “monumental.” It was a first date, and Melanie was looking to impress her new conquest. His name was Magnus Williams, and he was beautiful.
He was a big man, standing at over six feet--somewhere between 6’3” and 6’4” was Melanie’s guess. He had broad, sturdy shoulders, long arms that looked like they would have no trouble taking down a bear, and an almost perfectly v-shaped torso. Melanie’s guess was that he was somewhere over two hundred pounds, though with his height it was difficult to tell. Magnus had an excellent smile. It stretched wide over his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. A smile you could trust.
He was unfailingly polite when he walked in the door in a very classy black sports jacket, blue dress shirt, and tie. Fitted beige dress pants and very nice, clearly expensive dress shoes completed the look. After cooing over how nice he looked, Melanie told him to relax in the living room, but he shook his head. “I can’t let you do all the work by yourself! Either let me help, or at least let me keep you company.”
She smiled and had him follow her to the kitchen and had him sit down at the island on one of the barstools. There were several plates of h’ors d’oeuvres, piled high. Home-baked fresh bread, of course, with a plate of olive oil and vinegar to dip it in. There was a bowl of olives and another bowl of bocconcini: balls of mozzarella with red pepper and herbs floating in olive oil. There was another plate of bacon-wrapped water chestnuts. Magnus tried everything with enthusiasm.
“This could be dinner right here!” he exclaimed. As he nibbled, he extolled the virtues of Melanie’s cooking.
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!” she replied as she darted around the kitchen, dropping salt and herbs into this or that pot, opening the oven to check on a dish, rifling through cabinets for stray ingredients, all the time keeping up a fantastic, intelligent conversation on modern film, both domestic and foreign.
Magnus watched appreciatively. Melanie was 5’4” and he guessed she was around a buck eighty. There was not a single part of her that was angular. Bones and muscle were subsumed in a layer of plush that not a single person who had tasted her bacon-wrapped water chestnuts could fault her for. She did not dress to hide this fact. In fact, she was in a curve-hugging purple silk wiggle dress that accentuated her hourglass shape.
The swell of her stomach was celebrated, rather than hidden, her bust clearly on display, but modestly. Her legs were shown to their best advantage with her feet in perfectly matched purple wedges. As Magnus observed the sway of her hips as she moved with the grace that came of experience and comfort in her space, he took an olive oil-smothered bite of bread, sighing. “Delicious.”
Twenty minutes later, Melanie sat Magnus down in the dining room. It was a smaller table, and the lighting was dimmed--much more intimate than the strong lighting of the kitchen. The candles were lit and rivulets of wax had already dripped down their sides, giving the currently empty table an air of expectancy.
Melanie exited and returned moments later with soup, setting one bowl down in front of Magnus before placing another in front of her own place setting at the opposite side of the square table. “This is beer cheese soup. My mom was from Wisconsin and used to make it all the time. It really never gets old.”
She smiled and took her first spoonful.
“Beer cheese soup? Melanie, you said you were making a five-course meal, but I don’t know how I’m going to be able to stop eating anything that has both beer and cheese in its name.”
He noted the popcorn garnish on top. It looked very elegant, which was a nod to Melanie’s plating skills, but it brought an air of comfort and casualness to the meal. Magnus took a spoonful and was immediately lost in the flavor. It was buttery and cheesy and spicy, with the tang of the beer tossed in for good measure. “This is excellent.”
Melanie smiled knowingly. As she ate and talked with him about the books that the San Francisco literati had been putting out lately--“I mean, I read them, and the writing is very good in its way, but that self-deprecating, stream-of consciousness style that Dave Eggers and Stephen Elliot and all of them do just really isn’t my thing.”
She watched him closely. He ate with gusto, not even attempting to hide his appetite. It was as if he hadn’t eaten in days, much less polished off the majority of the h’ors d’oeuvres by himself, which had been in amounts large enough to feed a party of five. In fact, he even asked for seconds. The chef in her wanted to deny him, knowing that there were still four courses to go, but the part of her that wanted to see him full to bursting and waddling back to his car by evening's end was much louder and very much in favor of feeding him as much as he wanted.
She took his plate and returned with a full one, removing her own plate and giving it a quick rinse before setting it in the dishwasher. She brought him his second plate and set it down. "There's still a few bowls left in the pot. Would you like me to pack it up for you before you leave?"
Magnus nodded. "How could I say no? It's divine!" The smile on Melanie's face was worth his saying yes, even if the soup turned out not to microwave well (which, in fact, it would).
As she left the room, Magnus watched her walk into the kitchen doorway, her long curly blonde hair haloing her. She did not look like an angel--she was far too lush for that. But a devil didn't fit her, either--she was too sweet. She was more like a muse, tempting and encouraging and looking perfectly ethereal and tempting herself all the while. He heard her moving around the kitchen and took a few moments to imagine unzipping that silky dress, watching it slide to the floor, glowingly pale curves coming into view--
But then she was back, this time carrying small, circular trays stacked on top of each other.
“Is that--is that dim sum?” he asked incredulously. Beer cheese soup was one thing, but homemade dim sum? That was to die for.
“It is!” she said excitedly as she opened the top of the stainless steel steamer baskets. “My personal favorite: cha siu biao. Nothing better than barbecue pork buns.”
Magnus agreed. Pork buns were always at the top of his list when he went to get dim sum. He’d never heard of anyone having it outside of a restaurant, and he was thoroughly impressed.
“Be right back.” She popped out again and he took in the smells. These were worth the price of admission. When Melanie returned, it was with a tray holding two small plates, a decanter of white wine, as well as two glasses and a bottle of sparkling water. She set the tray down and began spreading everything out on the table. As she poured some of the sparkling water into Magnus’ glass, he felt that he could get used to this sort of treatment.
She poured water for herself and then sat down. She took a sip. “Drink a little. I know most people don’t like sparkling water, but it’s a fantastic palate cleanser, which you really do need after a soup like that.”
She poured herself a glass of wine and gestured for him to do the same. As he poured, she placed one bun on her plate and cut it delicately into fourths with her silverware, chewing happily once the food made it to her mouth.
Magnus took his time with his bun. He wasn’t quite full, but he sensed that perhaps seconds on the soup had been a bad move. This was only the second course, after all, and pork buns were filling. He took one and at it just as she had. They talked about gaming, going from video games to tabletop games, sharing tales of friendships nearly broken during Monopoly, fantastic wins in Settlers of Catan, and glorious battles in Shadowrun. Soon enough, the three trays of pork buns were gone. At four buns per tray, that made twelve buns--nine of which had been consumed by Magnus, along with more of the wine.
Melanie cleared the table of plates and wine and returned with small bowls of sorbet. “It’s lime. I made it myself. This is only the fourth time I’ve tried this recipe, and it came out funny the last few times, but I think I got it.”
She took a bite and purred. “Oooh, I did get it right!”
She took another bite. “I got it really right. Mm!”
Magnus, who was almost full, was not sure if he should finish all of his sorbet. Once he took the first bite, he was not sure if he would be able to slow down enough while eating it to be polite. Like everything else, it was fabulous.
Once they were finished, the table was cleared again, and this time Melanie returned with a tray with two bowls of salad and a decanter of white wine. The salad, upon closer inspection, was filled with candied nuts (Magnus was sure that they did not come from the store), thin apple slices, dried cranberries, and an absolutely gargantuan strawberry on top of both salads.
“This dish is a little more simple. I thought about doing something more complex with meat or fish, but I thought something a little more understated would be better.”
“There hasn’t been a single simple dish tonight, Mel. Next I know you’re going to tell me you grew all of this yourself.”
Melanie’s quick blush and small smile revealed that he was, in fact, correct. “Not only are you intelligent and a fantastic cook--you garden, too?”
“Just a little here and there. We always had one when I was a kid, and with all the pesticides and genetic engineering today I just feel like it’s safer.”
“Wow.”
Melanie started on her salad, then asked, “So, Magnus, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m in marketing.” That was putting it mildly--he was the head of one of the best-known marketing firms in the country, perhaps the world.
“Tell me what that’s like.” As he talked about focus groups, analyzing research, working with graphic designers, and picky clients, Melanie listened intently. Magnus, as he was talking, was surprised. While he found his job very interesting and rewarding, few others did, and it was rare he found someone who understood his interest. It was even rarer for the interested party to be an intelligent, beautiful woman.
When the salads and white wine were finished, they were soon replaced by beef bourguignon, a loaf of homemade bread, soft butter, and a decanter of red wine. Conversation slowed during this course, with Melanie discussing the books she had been copy-editing for work recently. Halfway through his immense plate, Magnus could feel fullness pressing against his insides. He ate slowly, but with purpose.
Melanie could feel herself growing warm as she watched him. He would cut a large slice of bread, butter it, take a bite, and then dip it into the stew, reveling in the meaty, wine-drenched flavor. He talked a little, but mostly let Melanie keep the conversation going, as though his only purpose in life was eating this bowl of stew. He finished a glass of wine, and another, and he felt himself loosening a little, felt that he would be able to eat more.
The beef was perfectly cooked, soft and melting on his tongue. Slice after slice of bread slathered with butter went down his gullet, swelling his stomach. When he finished the bowl, he sat back. His normally flat stomach was bowed out, the buttons of his fitted shirt looking ever so slightly strained. His belt was uncomfortable, but he felt there was nothing for it but to try and sit comfortably. He did his best to breathe normally, adjusting himself so he was sitting with his legs wide, leaning back in his chair to give his stomach as much room as it needed.
Discreetly, he rubbed his swollen belly. The mild discomfort, though, was nothing to the warm feeling emanating from his engorged gut. He talked with Melanie about this and that, but he was halfway to heaven. He had never been fed so expertly in his life, and as he looked at the plump, smiling woman across the table from him, he sensed he would never find anyone who could feed him even half as well.
Melanie was all aflutter. She had brought many men to her table, and though some of them had been invited back a few more times, none had truly gobsmacked her with their appetite and willingness to eat whatever was placed in front of him. Never had a man asked for seconds, though many had looked like they wanted to. Never had a man looked so gloriously stuffed.
She wanted nothing more than to move her seat next to him, undo his belt, pants, and his shirt buttons, push his jacket to the side, and run her hands over the tiny mound making itself known, massaging it until he was comfortable.
It being the first date, however, she was worried about taking such a liberty. Instead, she took both of their bowls back into the kitchen and refilled them. Hers only had half a ladlefull in it, and it was mostly broth. His bowl, on the other hand, contained at least a half pound of meat, probably more, along with plenty of onions, carrots, shallots, and mushrooms. It was a full meal in itself. She put the bowls down and continued their conversation, pouring herself another glass of wine. It was a clear challenge, and she wanted to see if he was up to it.
Magnus, for a moment, was not sure if he could do it. He was already so full, and he could only imagine what another bowl would do to him. He was a big eater, but overindulgence on this scale was something with which he was unfamiliar. Even on holidays he hadn’t been tempted the way he was now. But something in Melanie’s eyes told him he could do it. And with the way she was looking at him over her wineglass--that tiny curving upward of her full lips, that ever-so-slight tilt of the head. This look told him that his efforts would be rewarded. He sat up, grabbed his fork, and after a deep breath, dove in. The vegetables disappeared first, then meat, and slices of buttered bread to go with it all.
When the meal was done, Magnus looked triumphant. She had challenged him, and he had exceeded all expectation. At the moment, though, he was severely uncomfortable. His belt dug deep into his stomach. He felt as though he was about to burst. Melanie surveyed him as though she were judging a prize hog at a county fair. Satisfied, she decided to give him a moment to collect himself. “I’m going to clean up a bit. You’re welcome to relax in the living room if you’d like.”
He nodded, and as she was gathering up plates and putting them on the serving tray, he asked her where the restroom was. “Down the hall, first door on the right.”
“Thanks.”
He stood with some difficulty and made his way to the bathroom. He opened up his shirt and took off his belt and observed himself in the mirror. He was swollen, no doubt about it. It hurt, too, but not enough to override the pleasure coursing through him. Magnus had never been so turned on in his life. He didn’t quite understand it. Sure, he liked to eat, but he had always kept himself in excellent shape. Seeing his stomach bowing outward, though, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to keep it that way.
He could hear food gurgling inside of him and groaned a little, poking and prodding at himself, adding pressure here and there. As he did this, he let out belches big and small, releasing some of the pressure inside himself. This helped with his comfort just enough that he was able to button his shirt up again and do his belt up again. He gave himself an extra notch, knowing that whatever Melanie was doing for dessert, it was going to be delicious enough that he would need the extra room.
In the kitchen, Melanie had pulled a pecan pie out of the fridge and was setting two large slices--one nearly a full quarter of the pie--on large, almost platter-like plates and covering them with homemade whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and cinnamon. Once that was done, she pulled a chocolate cake out of the fridge. It was made up of six thin layers, each with chocolate buttercream frosting in between. It was frosted with red vanilla buttercream frosting, with little white buttercream roses all along the top.
There was a fruit tart, too, with the fresh, ripe fruit arranged on top of the shortbread crust and custard in a beautiful pattern. To the plates she added one slice each of the chocolate cake and the fruit tart. Magnus, of course, got the lion’s share of each of these. Melanie, for a moment, wondered if she shouldn’t give him quite so much. It wouldn’t do to overwhelm him. But when she thought about how he’d torn into the main course, she went weak-kneed. He could eat what he was given, she was certain. He was not the sort of man to leave anything on his plate.
As Melanie was arranging their dessert on the coffee table in the living room, Magnus walked in. Melanie gave him a smile and he grinned back at her. She stood, smoothing the front of her dress. “I wasn’t sure what you’d feel like for dessert, so I tried a few different things.”
“It all looks fantastic.”
She sat down on the edge of the couch. Magnus sat beside her, realizing why she had sat on the edge of the couch. It was one of those couches that practically swallowed you up it was so cushy.
“Oof.” He felt lethargic. Too much food, too much comfort.
“I don’t know how I’m going to put all that away, Mel.” Melanie reached for a fork and cut off a piece of chocolate cake, holding it up to his mouth.
“I think you’ll find a way,” she cooed.
And somehow, he did. It was one of the most intimate experiences of his life. She fed him bite after bite and, somehow, he ate it all. The moist chocolate cake was so sweet it almost hurt his teeth, and yet he couldn’t stop eating it. The pecan pie was the best he’d ever had. The tart was a delightful end to the evening, light and fruity and utterly perfect.
By the time they were finished, that one extra notch seemed like not nearly enough--he needed two or three. Magnus took a moment to wonder just how many calories he had just consumed. The cake slice alone must’ve been at least a thousand, if not more with all that frosting, and the pecan pie, with all the whipped cream and chocolate sauce as probably close to that, too. The tart was likely around half that. He sighed contentedly. Three thousand calories just for dessert--what was this woman trying to do to him? He smiled at her. “Mel, that was lovely.”
“Thank you, Magnus.” She paused for a moment, her hands reaching out a little bit before finding their way back to her soft lap.
“Magnus, would you mind if I--” As she said this, she reached out her hands toward his stomach and began massaging. Her soft fingers worked deftly. She was clearly experienced. Magnus moaned.
“Ooh, you ate very well, big boy,” she purred. “We’ll fix that tummyache right up, won’t we. Shh, just relax, it’s alright.”
He let out a window-shattering burp. “That was impressive! Let’s see if we can’t give you a little more room than that, though.”
She continued rubbing his belly and all he could think was how good it felt, how he never wanted to leave this moment, with this gorgeous woman, her long hair tickling him through his shirt, fingers working towards his comfort. It was glorious.
Twenty minutes later, they were standing on her front porch. “That was really, um, really lovely, Melanie.” She blushed.
“Thanks. I really enjoyed having you over.”
“I’d love to come again. Anytime.”
Her smile was enormous. “I’d love to have you again.”
There was a moment of silence, and then he leaned in and kissed her. Melanie was surprised at first, but that dissipated quickly. He was as good at kissing as she was at giving tummy rubs. A few moments later, they broke apart, breathing heavily.
“I’d really love to have you again,” she breathed.
He chuckled. “I’ll call you. Have a good night.”
She watched as he walked to his car, waving as she pulled away. Then, she stepped inside her house, shut the door behind her, leaned against it, and sighed like the lovesick girl she was.
(Continued in post 5 of this thread)
