The question about whether or not Cat liked her men meaty would plague him, until the night he came over to meet the family.
They say that women like men who resemble their father, and to a certain degree Caleb did in fact resemble Mr. Powell, whom he had only met once or twice due to a hectic work schedule and generally just being bad at first impressions.
Mr. Powell was a large man—larger in so many more ways than Caleb was. He was tall, easily six feet and some inches, and somehow looked just as big around. He was broad shouldered, with this huge gut that hung heavily over his waist and barreled over his jeans. One of his arms was bigger around than Cat’s waist, and his legs were strong and powerful like tree trunks. His neck, a rippling ring of fat and mustache, wobbled when he laughed boisterously from across the table. He had a big personality, and a strong grip; both things that Caleb lacked, as evidenced by his weak handshake.
That being said, the other women in Cat’s family weren’t that skinny either—maybe it was a Southern culture thing?
Cat’s mom was about half the size of her husband, but that still left her pretty full-figured. She was thick-waisted and wide-hipped like her daughter, just stretched out by years and what had to have been at least part of her own cooking. Cat’s aunt too, was pretty big. They looked like older, fluffier versions of his girlfriend, orbiting the dinner table picking up and replacing plates after they’d been licked clean.
“Woof, check out the appetite on this one Karla!” Cat’s aunt would say
“I tell you—he ain’t afraid of seconds, that much is for sure!”
They were relentless. Caleb could easily see where Cat got it from. Her mother and aunt would see an inch on your plate and take it for every mile it was worth—loading it up with biscuits and mashed potatoes, green beans and even a little more roast if it looked like you hadn’t had enough. Even poor Cat wasn’t immune, now that she was privy to “boyfriend privileges” and they didn’t want to embarrass her.
Even as his belly began to get round and full, rolling between his legs as it grew taut, Caleb continued to eat. He’d been hardwired his entire life to continue eating as long as their was food, and Cat’s spoiling him hadn’t done him any favors in that regard. His fat arms would pump more and more food into his mouth, even as his breathing grew ragged and his mind foggy.
Suddenly, the button on his pants finally snapped—allowing his belly to sag and swell down to his knees. A relieved, pleasured groan escaped him as he leaned backwards, allowing his turgid stomach room to breath. His hands came to rest on either side of his bloated gut, panting up a storm.
“I think Caleb’s had enough.” Cat said with amusement in her voice, “You don’t have to keep eating, honey.”
“Now… you tell me…”
The whole table laughed, their collective girth wobbling heartily at the poor boy that Cat had brought through the front door.
“Aww, look at him!” Cat’s aunt cooed, cupping Caleb’s cheek as he looked up glassily, “Poor thing’s about to pop!”
“Well y’done fed the boy enough to feed an army.” Mr. Powell unbuckled his pants, allowing his own gut to surge forward with a mighty slosh, “He ain’t cornfed like the rest of us—might take him a minute to get his second wind.”
“Second…?” Caleb turned pale
“He’s just kiddin’, Caleb.” Cat pat her boyfriend on the chest before standing up, “Why don’t we get you laid down?”
Caleb nodded sleepily, blearily, as he struggled to stand up. His added weight hadn’t made him any more good at getting up than he had been back when he was just a regular chubby nerd, but now that he was a blimp, it seemed even harder. As embarrassing as it was, Cat had to help hoist his fat ass up, and walk him down the hall. His belly bobbed and swayed lazily with every lumbering step, his waddle more and more pronounced as the weight set in on his stomach.
“I want that door open!” her father yelled down the hall, causing Caleb to almost vomit everything up right then and there
“Daddy!”
“He’s been in there before, you know.”
“That was not the thing that I needed to hear about that.”
Now having a minor panic attack over whether or not Cat’s father was going to gut him like a fish, Caleb felt his heartrate jump right back up to terrified as he heard the soft click of Cat’s door shutting behind them.
“I-I don’t know Kitty Cat—“ he stammered, his voice as slow and heavy as his gait, “Y-Your dad said—”
“Shut up.”
Cat pressed herself hard against Caleb’s chest, sending him falling backwards (and a loud creak through her bedframe) as she locked lips with his. Laying her weight across his distended gut, Cat straddled her boyfriend’s fleshy pillar of thigh as she laid sloppy wet kisses on his panting, unsuspecting mouth.
“K-Cat, hold on a second…”
He had actually been going to adjust his shirt, which had ridden up over his belly at some point during the fall. But Cat seemed to misinterpret the situation. She nodded quickly, hungrily, as if in understanding as she began to fiddle with her boyfriend’s skin-tight jeans.
“F-Holy fuck, Cat!” Caleb stammered out perhaps just a bit too loudly, “Your parents are like right down the hall!”
But before he could manage to sputter out some other reasonable protest to what he thought they were about to do, Cat had freed his member from its skin-tight denim confines. Opening her full pink lips wide, she began to suck on his fat-smothered cock, hefting up his great white ocean of stomach as she stroked his hairy legs.
“Jesus…” he managed to croon out as Cat worked through the pain of his overstuffed stomach and right to the heart of his now erect penis, “…f-fuck”
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