A Little Extra Filling

This story was written in response to a prompt submitted to the Prompt Pool! This prompt was supposed to be centered on "a guy has always been a bit chubby and desperately tries to stay socially acceptably thin but immediately lets go when he gets into a relationship (with a feeder?)" which is too perfect an idea to pass up. 

If you have a story idea, kink, or trope you'd like to see me write, drop it in the Prompt Pool!

**

He was so fucking cold. Standing out at the bus stop in January after sundown, Paul felt as if he hadn’t been warm in months. The sweatshirt he’d bought at a secondhand store the fall of his freshman year had worn thin with wear and trips through the wash. He told himself he was grateful he didn’t live somewhere it snowed, even as he could feel his toes going a little numb in his shoes.

He’d promised himself he would buy a new sweatshirt this year, and had made good on that promise. To his chagrin, he had also promised himself that he would be able to fit into the new sweatshirt–a large, a size down from the XL he was currently wearing. The smaller size would be motivation, or so he’d told himself. He had been pretty good about his diet for the most part, but he’d skimped on exercising, rarely visiting the gym at his apartment complex more than twice a month.

He figured being chilled to the bone every time he stepped outside might be better motivation to slim down, since clearly nothing else was working. Maybe he just wanted to punish himself. He couldn’t stand that he’d gone from a chubby kid to a chubby teenager to a chubby adult. The only positive thing he could say about his body was that he could almost hide his pudgy stomach and less-than-fit physique with the right clothes. Once he undressed, though? All he could feel was shame. He had the beginnings of moobs and his stomach had a soft, squishy outward swell that very nearly hung over the waistbands of his pants.

The wind started blowing, and it felt like the temperature dropped by ten degrees. He started to shiver. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and he looked over. There was a woman standing next to him. She was holding two lidded coffee cups and holding one out to him. He gave her a confused look. “You seemed cold, and I just saw that the bus won’t be here for another twenty minutes, so I grabbed you a hot chocolate before the coffee shop closed.”

She nudged the cup into his hands. The warmth on his palms radiated out to the rest of him. “I’m Jewel. I’ve seen you around. You work at the plant shop, right? I work at the bookstore up the block.”

He nodded. He had a hard time talking to strangers in general, but especially women with bright blue eyes and white-blonde hair that shimmered like cornsilk. “Thank you for the hot chocolate,” he said, stumbling over his words a little. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“I didn’t,” she agreed with a friendly smile. “But I couldn’t let you freeze your cute little butt off out here while we waited for the bus together.” She took a sip of her own drink.

He blushed hard, grateful the bus stop was only illuminated by a single street lamp. He didn’t know what to say. He’d never been confident enough in himself to flirt much with girls.

“What’s your name?” Jewel asked.

“Paul,” he answered.

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Paul. How’s the hot chocolate?”

He realized he hadn’t even taken a sip. He was too busy thinking she looked very cute all bundled up from head to toe. Clearly she took the weather a little more seriously. He took a sip, and it was tasty enough, but mostly he was grateful it was hot. He told her so, and that earned a chuckle. It felt like a win, but one he was sure was fleeting. They chatted a little during their bus ride, and he was sure that would be it: momentary kindness from a pretty stranger.

It took Jewel showing up at the plant store three times while he was working for him to start to think that maybe–somehow–she was interested in him. The second or third time she brought him a fancy whipped hot chocolate with sprinkles and fudge syrup that he knew cost something like twelve bucks was when he finally, genuinely considered the possibility. No one had ever done something like that for him before.

Jewel was the kind of girl he’d always told himself he would never have. She was witty, always ready with a dry comeback and a knowing smile that made his stomach flip. On top of that, she was–to put it simply–extremely hot. She had thick, dark eyelashes that made her eyes look perpetually smoky and sensual. She had tattoos snaking down arms toned from years of martial arts and, beneath her curves, enough muscle that he knew she could absolutely kick his ass, jiu-jitsu training or not.

That all would’ve been enough, but her attentiveness was what really turned his heart to mush. Fancy little drinks from the coffee shop, little treats from the restaurants nearby, the occasional gift of a book or comic from the bookstore she worked at, all tailored to his tastes and interest.

Knowing how much attention she was paying to him made him self-conscious. Part of him wondered if this all might be some kind of weird joke, or if he was misunderstanding. He found himself tugging at the front of his shirts when she was around, as if enough pulling would hide the chub around his middle.

That kept him from actually initiating and trying to take things further. Luckily for both of them, Jewel was happy to take the reins. After a month of bringing him gifts and watching him blush every time, she invited him out. She was gentle on that first date, keeping things casual as they played mini golf (during which he tried not to think about the little muffintop edging over his jeans) and ate hot dogs on the pier (during which he wondered if she thought he was a total pig when he ordered a side of fries).

At least, she was casual until the end. They were sitting on a bench at the end of the pier, looking out at the ocean. The sun was starting to set. She shifted closer and put her hand just beneath his chin–not quite touching him, but close enough that he could feel her warmth, his breath catching in his chest. She leaned close to him. “I really want to kiss you. May I?”

He’d never been asked something like that before. In his smattering of previous relationships (all so short he wasn’t even sure if they qualified as “relationships”), he had usually been the one initiating. Seeing the little smile on her lips and the heat in her eyes was disarming, and it was all he could do to nod “yes.”

Their kiss wound up being much more than a kiss. Before he knew it, she was straddling his lap, one hand curled in his hair, the other braced against his chest. He had a flash of a thought: I’m too soft. A few more synapses fired, little reminders to get back into the gym and eat better–until she shifted against him and he moaned into her mouth, every thought tumbling out of his mind. Her knees pressed against his hips as she pushed in closer; he felt like he was being devoured, both of them forgetting they even needed to breathe.

When she finally pulled back long enough for them to both string words together, it was dark. She cupped his cheek in her hand, breaths still coming a little fast. “I don’t think I’m done with our date just yet,” she told him, voice a tinge deeper, sending a hum of arousal through him. “Would you want to come back to my place, or…?”

Jewel left it hanging there, like there was any way he could say no to her. He waited a beat, taking her in in the faint moonlight: blonde hair nearly glowing, lips plumped up after kissing him, eyes half-lidded and telling him if he went home with her she would wreck him in new and novel ways.

So they went back to her apartment. The short bus ride home was giggly and a little awkward. He took a chance and held her hand, which she squeezed tight until they got inside her place. He was high on lust and a little adrenaline. It didn’t feel real.

Until she tugged him into her bedroom and started to undress, and he realized he would have to undress. That felt a little too real. It wasn’t his first time, but he’d always managed to at least keep an undershirt on. He’d never let anyone see his little potbelly out in the open. He was trying to figure out how to tell her, shame working its way from his gut up to his throat when she stepped close to him, fingertips slipping under the hem of his shirt. Being touched felt so good that he forgot for a moment why he would want her to stop. “Can I–?” she asked, pulling up the hem of his shirt a half-inch.

“Please,” he said, hardly recognizing his own voice. They hadn’t even started and he was already practically begging. She made him feel shameless, like he would do anything if she only asked.

She pulled off his shirt slowly, making a noise of approval as she dropped it to the floor. “I’m a very lucky girl,” she said, before he could think to be embarrassed.

He was completely naked in short order, and beneath her in bed not long after that. She was handsy and he started making noises he didn’t even know he could make: whimpers and moans and little cries that she seemed to drink up. He discovered he was sensitive in places he’d never considered before–right around his bellybutton, his nipples, his inner thighs. He was used to being in a more active role (at least, the few times he’d actually fucked anyone before), but she had him in such a haze it was all he could do to grip onto her perfect waist or her sheets while she rode him. He could feel his tummy jiggle a little, and just as he started to feel self-conscious about it, she caressed her hands over his belly and made it clear she didn’t mind it one bit.

She kept him so focused he lasted longer than he ever had, and when he finally told her he was coming, she leaned forward and kissed him and caught one of his hands in hers, lacing their fingers together, winding the two of them tight as he let himself dissolve into her.

They basked in the afterglow, both of them falling asleep almost immediately. She snuggled up behind him, holding him close. He didn’t give a thought to the way she cradled his belly, like he might have just hours earlier. He felt safe.

From then on, they became nearly inseparable, both of them so besotted that they were completely annoying to everyone around them. Paul couldn’t have cared less. Every time they went out, it was an adventure. Every time they stayed in, there was nowhere else he would rather be. She made him feel free.

Six months in, as the limerence started to wear off, he wondered if maybe she’d made him feel a little too free. He was trying on clothes as he cleaned out his closet in preparation for his move into Jewel’s apartment (or, what would soon be their apartment). He’d changed a lot more in six months than he’d realized, and for the first time in a long while, the shame started to creep back in.

He had a stack of t-shirts that no longer fit that continued to grow as he cleared his closet–much like he realized he’d grown. No matter how much he tugged and sucked in, most of them wouldn’t cover the lower inch of his belly. When he raised his arms (a dangerous proposition, given that he’d managed to rip holes in the seams of two of the shirts doing just that), the shirt slid up his potbelly and made him look fatter than ever. He couldn’t stop looking in the mirror and grabbing at the round gut that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He’d always thought he was fat, but every one of his XL t-shirts straining to contain both his belly and his love handles was proof positive that he was actually, seriously fat.

Around the eighth shirt, he gave up, realizing it would only be a waste of time. He felt himself choke up a little, but tried not to actually cry. Jewel was in the living room, helping pack up some of his books, and the last thing he wanted was for her to see him melt down because he’d been too lovestruck to notice he’d put on what had to be at least 25 pounds.

It wasn’t much of a mystery why he’d plumped up. Before they got together, he had kept to the barest semblance of a diet. He’d paid attention to calorie counts (and ignored them half the time anyway) and made some effort to avoid the most obviously fattening foods most of the time. But when he was with Jewel he just… didn’t think about that stuff. She made him feel like he didn’t have to. Maybe he should’ve kept thinking about it, though, because what girl wanted a guy with a gut hanging out of his shirts?

He slipped on one of the only shirts he was sure would actually fit–a 2X that was tighter than he remembered–and started on the shorts and jeans. The results were pretty much the same as they had been with the shirts: thick love handles and a heavy belly pouring over the sides, even when he left them unbuttoned and unzipped. He managed to get a single pair buttoned, but it was so constricting he knew they weren’t worth keeping. The sweats and basketball shorts he liked to wear around the house still fit comfortably, but when he looked in the mirror he was horrified to notice they accentuated his hips. Hips! He hadn’t even realized he would ever need to worry about fat hips.

Paul was so deeply demoralized and ashamed of himself he couldn’t even bottle it up anymore. He threw on his comfiest shorts and walked into the living room. “Jewel?” he asked. She didn’t look up from her packing.

“Hmm? Need something?” She pulled out her phone and checked the time. “Six already? We should probably order something to eat. I can call the pizza place with the usual order if you wanna pick it up?”

He heaved out a sigh. “I… don’t think I should be eating any pizza.”

She turned to look at him, confused. “Why? Are you not feeling good?”

“I mean, no, but–I’m not sick, I’m just…” He inhaled. “I’ve gotten really fuckin’ fat, okay? And I need to cut back.”

“Ohh, my love,” she murmured, standing up and pulling him into an embrace. “You are so handsome.”

He felt some of his anger with himself dissipate. “Aren’t you disappointed in me? I look so different…”

“People change.” She slipped her hands underneath his shirt, fingernails skimming over his belly. Goosebumps prickled across his skin. He loved when she did that. “Do you hear me complaining?”

“Not today, but–”

“Not ever,” she said with conviction, locking her eyes with his. She gave his gut an actual squeeze, and he was surprised to feel himself getting hard.

His throat had gone a little dry. “But what–what if I get bigger?”

Her hands slipped down, tracing the bottom curve of his stomach and moving to his plush sides, then up his back, nails gently scratching over the soft skin of his back, her hands pausing to squeeze a little at the slight rolls that had developed beneath his shoulder blades. “What if you do?” Her voice had dropped in pitch. She slowly walked them both backward, until she tipped him onto the couch, straddling him just like she had back on their first date, though her thighs needed to spread wider. “God, you are the sweetest little dumpling.” She knew what that nickname did to him. He’d hated it at first, but she only ever used it when she was about to make him come so hard he lost the power of speech for a while afterward. “Who ever complained about a dumpling with a little extra filling?”

Her words turned him into pudding. He almost kept pushing on the subject, but then she sank down onto his cock with a little gasp. She grabbed her phone and dialed. Just before he was about to ask her what she was doing, she put a finger to his lips to shush him and said into the phone, “Yeah, I’d like to order an extra large. Everything on it. And can we get double cheese, too?” There was a little catch in her voice as his hips bucked upward, driving into her. “That sounds perfect. We’ll be there in thirty minutes.” She hung up and he started to say something, but she cut him off. “Whether you stay my little dumpling or this little bit of filling turns into a whole lot more, I’m not going anywhere.”

And that was that.