My Last Stuffing

It's been many a year now since I've been stuffed. I mean really, really, really stuffed by someone who cared enough to make me eat it all and clean my plate.

And now that I look back at it, I realize something: No wonder I'm not now gaining any weight.

And oh, how I miss being stuffed.

It was shortly before Thanksgiving, the weekend before -- and we were anticipating the holidays with glee. Of course, leading up to being stuffing, I had pretty well stuffed myself about as full as I could be. Annie and I had been baking and cooking all weekend, and I'd been tasting and indulging myself to no limit. I had made cheesecake and brownies, fattening myself with the experimental ones which didn't turn out good enough to give as gifts, or baking extra just for my belly.

I was looking forward to breaking 250 sometime during the next few weeks -- up almost 100 pounds in the last 18 months! It had been a remarkable year, and my belly was my pride and joy, nearing 50" around -- hard to believe that just a few years ago, I had fit easily into Levi's 501 30" jeans.

What happened on that Sunday evening was quite spontaneous. I'd already eaten a full breakfast that day -- a four-egg omelet, biscuits and gravy. And I'd indulged in the annual Thanksgiving post-service feast at church, filling myself with a variety of potluck goodies. Arriving home, I felt as fat as a Thanksgiving turkey, ready for slaughter.

But a different kind of surprise awaited me -- not a slaughter exactly, but an ambush of spontaneous stuffing.

I sat down in my recliner, leaned back with my belly hovering above me and fell into a deep food coma. My gluttonous gut was freed of the Sunday dress pants confines; I'd unbuttoned my pants and allowed my zipper down, exposing my belly to an obviously-turn-on Annie.

Annie, seeing me there and noting the number of pies we had in our fridge, quickly calculated how much farther she could stretch the skin covering my belly. I awoke with her beside me with a pumpkin pie, slicing it and cooing, "Come on, baby. Open up." Groggy from my potluck indulgence, I complied as she fed the entire pie with whipped cream into my not-so-hungry mouth. For me, the name "pie-hole" says it all! My mouth is definitely a pie-hole, especially this time of year.

As soon as I finished, I turned on the TV and again drifted into dreamland, only to be awakened again with Annie sitting beside me with a cappuccino cream pie -- one of my recent creations, made with instant coffee and French vanilla flavoring and chocolate pudding.... I protested, but my protests did little good against her insistence, and I soldiered through about half the pie before begging to go to the bathroom. Standing, I imagined myself some elephantine creature lumbering -- waddling actually -- down the hallway to the bathroom.

When I returned, sleepily, I could offer no resistance to Annie's next course of temptation -- one of my favorites -- the stuff of Thanksgiving: Stovetop stuffing, she had prepared quickly while I had been sleeping... I ate the entire lot of it -- 6 or 8 "mini-servings" according to the box – Annie had added a half-pound butter to it, so it was especially delicious and moist.

I started to go to sleep again, but she roused me and said she wanted me in the bedroom, that she was going to serve me "something special". Again, half-groggy from the day's calorie intake, I tried to lift myself from the chair. "Oh baby, you need help," she said and exaggerated moaning and groaning as she pretended to help me out of the chair, giving me a gentle shove toward the bedroom.

And then, like a turkey fattened for the kill, I headed to the bedroom, and she followed me like the farmer with his hatchet, only her weapon was the remaining half of cappucino pie. In a painful, groggy stupor, I managed to undress, and she fed me the pie, rubbing my bloated belly occasionally and saying things like, "Oooh, baby, you are getting so big!" Music to my ears, as I went into a deep sleep -- pie in my belly and her eager fingers massaging my belly and pleasuring me below my hard, rounded gut.

I awoke to her atop me. It was early in the evening, but dark already. She massaged my belly as she rode me for her pleasure, offering to feed me some bourbon ball candy, which, I ate piece after piece, licking the dark chocolate from her fingers. I drifted into sleep, then suddenly, she was beside me with another pumpkin pie. Finally in my right mind, after eating one-fourth of it, I declined any more of it. All the while, I enjoyed her attentions and she enjoyed the fine job of stuffing she had done.

And that's the last time I was stuffed....

Of course, soon after that, Annie left -- smitten with a co-worker she was running with...  And I haven't had a good stuffing since then.