Big belly enthusiast

20 male, shy & loves big bellies. Feeder/Encourager with a belly. Big bellied guys 👌🏻💞. Hmu for Kik or Grommr

Last update
2022-09-26 04:18:36

    Brick House

    Carol could tell a lot by the way a person entered a room. Liam, who had slipped in awkwardly and slyly through the door just now, fascinated her more than any other client she had come across for quite a while. Partly because, let's face it, she admitted to herself, he was drop-dead gorgeous, late twenties, with curly brown hair, bedazzling radioactive blue eyes, open friendly features and a masculine, thicc athletic physique she could not help but lust for. In another setting, she would have been tempted, she would have dared a move, but here, in this one, the ethics of counsellor-client relationships was a reality. Her attraction towards him could not enter the equation. Still, she consoled herself, she could listen to his slow, beautiful, haunting voice, and this she did.

    "I've really taken in everything you said in our last session, and the previous sessions, it's so good, I appreciate it so much, I've really taken it on board," he said. "But it's not going away, instead it's getting more and more intense. Ever since I moved into my new place, Brick House, something crazy weird comes over me in the evenings and late at night. I get madly hungry, not normally hungry, I mean desperately hungry. And, like aroused, y'know. It feels like there is a presence coming over me, making this happen. Something that's not me, that's outside of me, completely outside of me. I try to resist, to say no, but then it feels so good, so addictive, and so it goes on. And I can't stop it, I don't know how to stop it."

    "You said last time it felt to you like it was something supernatural, maybe something connected to Brick House."

    "It does, it so absolutely does, but you must find that totally batshit crazy, right?"

    "I'm not here to judge you or judge your perceptions or beliefs, Liam."

    Liam, who had been staring at the floor, sucked in the cute little belly he was so self-conscious about, and looked up at Carol with puppy dog eyes.

    "Let me say this, Liam," she continued. "I am no expert on the supernatural and that sort of thing, and have no firm or strong beliefs on it either way, if I'm honest, because it's simply not something I've encountered or delved into much. What I can say, as your counsellor, is I have talked to you over a number of sessions, and I feel you are basically, a very logical-thinking, rational person, who is self-questioning, and with a lot of self-insight. That's not to comment on whether this is something inside you, to do with emotions and psychology, or something outside you, something much harder to understand."

    Liam nodded gratefully. I wish I could snog him, thought Carol.

    "I feel we have explored the psychological side to this as much as we can, and I am not convinced I am really getting anything there," she continued. "That leaves....other aspects to this...aspects I am not sure I have the experience or knowledge to take on."

    There was a pause.

    "But I do know someone, someone very good, who I wonder might be able to help. He used to work as a counsellor, but not any more, he moved into IT. He is also something else, on the side, in his own time...he has psychic abilities, I believe, and I know he has investigated all manner of psychic phenomena, although he's not talked much to me about that because I'm a little bit squeamish about some of that stuff."

    Carol handed Liam a card. "Sam Greenwood, Psychic Consultant", it read.


    Liam did not know what to make of Sam Greenwood when he arrived at Brick House for the first time. A tall, shy, suited black dude in his early 40s, with deep brown eyes, oozing gentleness and compassion. Smolderingly hot as well, Liam thought, lasciviously catching a glimpse of his backside as he came in. That made it all the more difficult in some ways. How to confide to such a sexy guy about something so uncool and uncouth: his late night binges and the associated sexual arousal, feelings of guilt and sense of something unnatural gaining control of him.

    "Carol, I understand with your permission, has acquainted me with the details of what has been going on," said Sam in his quiet, sweet-tempered voice. 

    Ah yes, remembered Liam, I told her she could tell him about me. That saves me the embarrassment of explaining it all myself, then.

    "If you do not mind," Sam continued, "I would like to take a short wander around your place by myself, just to pick up on the vibrations. Would you be comfortable with that."

    Liam rapidly assented, and let Sam stroll around. This is so utterly wild, Liam thought. What would anyone else think if I told them everything that's going on in my life right now?

    "It is as I thought that moment I first came in," Sam reported, coming back into the living room. Two presences. A thin man and a fat man. They cannot experience the pleasures of eating or drinking or sexual pleasures in the way you or I can, but they can experience them indirectly, vicariously as it were, through manipulating and drawing on your energies."

    "Wow," said Liam.

    "My intuition is telling me to search the loft, particularly the chimney area, above where your fireplace is. Could we go up there?"

    "Sure, we can try," said Liam. Actually he had never been up there before.

    Opening the loft hatch took quite some effort on Liam's part, and Sam could not help admiring his body as he struggled with it, arms flexing, brow sweating a little, the cutest rounding baby belly jutting out of his top. He longed to run his fingers along it and make some comment, but restrained himself. This is too serious for that, he thought.

    Liam ascended the drop-down ladder into the loft, and Sam followed after him. In moments, even before Liam had managed to locate and flick on the lightswitch, Sam seemed to have found what he wanted. A box, right next to the outline in the wall of where the chimney stood. And in that, right at the top, a black and white photo.

    "This is it," Sam announced. "This is what I was getting. This is them."

    Liam looked at the photo. "They're both slim," he said. 

    "I know," agreed Liam, "but I just know it, this is them. Maybe the bigger man was slim at the time of the photo, but gained weight later in life. Or maybe he was slim all through his life, but at some level wanted to be a bigger man, and this is why he is appearing to me that way."


    Liam pondered what to make of Sam's visit. The man was deep, unlike anyone he had ever met before, make no mistake. And so, so, so goddamned sexy as well, he thought, although that in itself is not relevant here. Sam had been so meek, so quiet, and yet also so incredibly, sexily, self-assured about the task he was undertaking. The moment he came in the place, he said, he knew it was two men, one thin, one fat. Then he got hold of that photo, and knew exactly where to find it. The photo had not matched, it was two slim men. But Sam was not bothered by that, that's them, he'd insisted, so strongly. What to make of this? All so surreal. Was Sam a bluffer, a fake, or could this be the real thing?

    Liam spotted Sandra in the neighbouring garden, clasped the black and white photo in his hand and rushed to greet her.

    Sandra did not live nextdoor, but it was almost as though she did, she was there so much, as the carer and closest friend of the long-term 92 year old resident there, Denise. Liam had never seen much of Denise, but saw Sandra, a 71 year old lady herself, all the time, and considering the differences in age and background between them, they had struck up an unusually friendly, bantering relationship. Sandra was always fun. And she loved gossip. She knew everything.

    "Sandra," said Liam, leaning over the garden fence with the photo, "guess what I found in the loft, I don't suppose you recognise these folks do you?"

    Sandra, never one to pass up an opportunity like this, studied the old photo carefully. "Well, well, well!" she said. "I cannot say I recognise them myself, but Denise always talked about two men who used to live in your place. 'The gentlemen', she always used to call them, I wonder if that means they were gay, but I couldn't say for sure. She mentioned they were unusual. I could show this to her and ask her if you like, wouldn't that be interesting?"

    Liam agreed to this proposal, eager to learn what would come of it. To his frustration, though, Sandra did not come back to him that evening. Denise had been too sleepy to be troubled, apparently. But the next evening, Sandra rushed to Liam's door, rapping on the door, all excited.

    "I was right, I was right, it's them," she said. "Denise told me about them just now. Mr Galbraith and Mr Starr. 'The gentlemen', she calls them, 'always very private', she said. Into 'lots of funny stuff', she said, I think she meant the occult, but she wouldn't say more; I don't think she wanted to speak about it, and maybe she didn't know much about any of that anyway. They lived in your house from the early 1970s, she says, until just some years back. Then she says they 'just disappeared', and she's not heard of them or from them since."

    "Were they both always slim, like they were in the photo I showed you?"

    "What an odd question," said Sandra, but before she could ponder its oddness further, she dashed back indoors, then returned a few minutes later. 

    "Yes, Denise says they were both always slim. But here is the interesting thing, she says there were always fat men visiting them. Young fat men, she says."

    Liam thanked Denise for her help, exchanged a few more pleasantries, then headed back inside to consider things further. I must get back to Sam, he thought.


    "I've been running this again and again through my mind, just like you," Sam told Liam down the phone. "I am so sorry for you, Liam, it's the very last thing you deserve or need, and I know this is putting so much stress on you."

    "I really, really appreciate you so much for being here for me," said Liam, "it means so much."

    Sam felt his heart melting, but knew he had to stay professional. "What I am going to suggest," he said, "is we do a ritual, to ask these spirits, or entities, or energies or whatever they might be, to depart in peace, to stop bothering you. Is that something you would be comfortable with?"

    Liam readily agreed, and within thirty minutes, Liam and Sam were sat together cross-legged in the living room, surrounded by a circle of candles, Sam deep in meditation, intoning commands to whatever it was to leave and to seek healing. 

    Sam put his arm around Liam's shoulder at the conclusion. "Let's hope this does the trick," he said, "but if there's anything else, you have my number."


    As the evening grew later, Liam steeled himself again, as he had for so many nights now, to face the phenomena he knew was waiting for him. Or was it? Sam's ritual must have worked, he thought. This isn't going to happen this time. Think positive. Read a book, watch a film, anything. Act like normal. 

    Yet it all started again, about 9.30pm, with this uneasy sensation there was something else in his space, and then this overwhelming hunger and horniness, combined together - "horngriness" he sometimes called it.

    No, thought Liam, I must resist, I must be strong.

    But it was too much, and soon he was gorging himself with cakes, biscuits, slices of bread, chocolates, anything he could find to hand, ravenously shovelling it all into his mouth. His cock was getting warmer, juicier, harder, spasming back and forth without him even touching it, as a plethora of erotic thoughts coasted into his mind. Oh no...oh no...oh no...how could this be? Sam, oh Sam, how can I be thinking of you in this way? This so embarrassing, and so wrong, but so fucking sexy, and oh fuck oh so fucking right! Oh Sam! Oh Sam!

    Before Liam knew it, his balls were tingling and tightening and his dick was erupting cum like a fire hose, splashing onto his heaving belly, then shooting as far as his tits, then splattering onto his forehead, and then even onto the bedhead behind him. Fuck. He never used to cum anything like this before. Not since the beginning of...all of this.


    "It happened again," Liam told Sam on the phone the next evening. "Don't worry, bud, I've got you," said Sam, and drove round as soon as he could.

    Liam told Sam all of the details once he arrived, although leaving out the discomfiting bits about his fantasies for Sam. Sam listened carefully, sympathetically, but when he came to speak, the tone in his voice was firm:

    "We will do the ritual again, but this time, and this is deadly important, you must say the words yourself, with me, not just me saying them like last time. We must not only say the words, we must think them, and mean them, absolutely bloody mean them, every word. I don't know how else to say this, Liam, and I know it must sound judgemental or harsh maybe, but when you ask this thing to go away, you must mean it with every ounce of your soul. If there is any part of you, even if it's subconscious, which wants this to continue, you have to reject that, reject it 100 percent. Do you get what I'm saying? When we do the ritual this time, we have to be absolutely telling it to leave, and not even one thousandth of a percent inviting it to say."

    Liam considered Sam's words seriously, awkwardly. "I do want and need this to go," he said. "I suppose there could be parts of me which are attached to it, though, I guess. As I told you before, there is this intense sexual excitement element, which I don't understand. Plus it's part of my routine, my habits now. Every evening, about 9.30pm, this starts, y'know...?"

    Sam gazed deep into Liam's eyes, put his hands on his shoulders and praised him for having the courage to talk about the challenges, but still warned him in no uncertain terms that unless he could get himself to a place mentally where he could unambiguously and without hesitation ask the presence to go, it would not go. 

    "You've got this, Liam, you've got this," he encouraged.

    "I can do it, let's do it," Liam confirmed, gesturing towards the candles.

    Liam lit the candles surrounding them, and began the ritual, this time with both him and Liam intoning the words. When it was finished, the atmosphere in the room somehow felt different, clearer, fresher.

    "Thank God, I think we've done it!" exclaimed Liam

    "We did, we did it, dude!" congratulated Sam, and they both laughed and started to relax. Liam went to the fridge and came back with some beers, and they started to chat, about themselves, about all sorts of stuff. It was the first proper conversation they had had which had nothing to do with the strange goings-on. Their inhibitions slipped, they talked about previous partners and dates, they talked about the latest television shows and films, and which celebrities they fancied. They felt more and more drawn to each other, flirting with each other with little smiles and taps on the arm or legs or knee. 

    Then something kicked in with Sam. I am meant to be here to support this guy, to help him with a problem, I can't get too close, I've got to stay focused, he thought. So he made his excuses and cut the evening short, to Liam's pained disappointment.


    Less than 90 minutes later, Sam saw his mobile phone vibrating: it was Liam.

    "Sam, I'm really, really sorry to do this and this is so embarrassing...but I don't know what to stay...that feeling, the presence...it's starting again."

    Sam felt a rush of adrenaline, but kept his voice steady and calm. "It's okay, Liam, I've got you man, I'll be there soon as I can."

    "We will do the ritual again," said Sam as he came in the door of Brick House, immediately rushing to the living room to start positioning the candles in a circle again, just like before. "You know I hate to be a bitch, but I've got to say this again: if there is any part of you that does not want this to stop, or is not sure you want this to stop, you've got to mentally chuck that out right now. We have got to have 1000% focus here. When we do the ritual, when we intone the words, we have to be thoroughly and unreservedly telling this thing to fuck right off, to fuck right out and then some, and leave you in peace. Are you getting me?"

    "I know, I know," said Liam, then became emotional, tears streaming down his eyes. "I am so sorry, Sam, I'm so sorry, I'm trying but...it's not working!"

    Sam embraced Liam, holding him tight, stroking his cheeks and wiping his tears with his fingers. "It's okay, Liam, it's okay. However long this takes, whatever we have to go through to sort it, I'm with you, every step of the way. Now look, do you want to talk through this? Could be better to do that before we start."

    "Sam, I know this is so rotten of me and so stupid...I don't know how to say it."

    "Hey, you can tell me anything, man," said Sam, clasping Liam's hands in his own.

    "I think this thing is more of a hook, more addictive than I thought. The base pleasure of it, I mean, the food, the drink, the horniness - you would not fucking believe the orgasms."

    "That's okay, that's okay..."

    "And there is more than that."


    "It's you, Sam, I don't know how else to say it. There is a part of me that doesn't want this to end because I don't want you and me to end. I don't want to lose you, Sam. Now I know that's so unfair on you, so if you want to walk out that door..."

    Sam held Liam firmly, tightly, and their faces pressed together, noses rubbing, lips touching. Then Sam stood back.

    "Do you know, I owe you a confession," Sam said quietly. "I should have seen this earlier, but somehow I didn't, or I didn't want to, I don't know. But I've been exactly the same. I've been intoning this damned ritual, asking this thing to end, when all the time, in my heart, I'm not wanting it to end, because I'm not wanting my experience with you to be over. I've let you down, Liam. I'm sorry. You're deserving of better. If it hadn't been for me, I wonder if this might all have been over for you now."

    They both began to cry, and hug, and for a while, kiss. Then Sam again turned to Liam with a serious face.

    "This time we do the ritual, and we really mean it to go. We got it?"

    "We got it," confirmed Liam, and Sam lit up all the candles, and they both intoned the mantra, asking, insisting, demanding the presence leave.

    "I command these forces of gluttony and sexual stimulation and licentiousness to begone!" Sam whispered, at the conclusion of the ceremony, then turned to Liam.

    "...but not yet," he finished, a look of frenzy in his face, and pulled Liam's top off, kissing his face passionately and uncontrollably, hands sprawling everywhere across Liam's body, devouring his luscious thicc build, fingers lingering on and plunging into the newly softened areas, his member pressing ever more vigorously against Liam's thigh, until before they knew it, they were rolling around ontop of and underneath each other, the lit candles surrounding them, totally forgetting the task they had come here to complete. The rest of the evening passed in a haze, and neither could remember all of it afterwards, except they had both stuffed themselves royally with everything they could find in the fridge and the cupboard, and they both orgasmed more times and more intensely than they had ever done before.

    There was one detail, though, which Liam did remember vividly, and would never forget for the rest of his life. It was the moment before he lost consciousness and fell asleep. A glance at the bedroom mirror, the sight of Sam on top of him, ejaculating into him, and himself unleashing a cum fountain onto the sheets only moments later. Except the sight staring back at him was not himself and Sam, but two other men, two elderly men. The Mr Galbraith and Mr Starr from the old black and white photo. It was only a moment, a second or less, but he could swear it, he knew it.

    When they awoke the next morning, there was not much time to discuss things as they both had work to go to, but Liam did raise the experience with the mirror, and saw Sam's alarmed expression when he told him.

    "That mirror, it's a leverage, a power centre," Sam muttered agitatedly.

    "What do you mean?" asked Liam.

    Without even replying, Sam rushed to the mirror, took it off the wall and started running his hands along the back of it, peeling back parts of the cardboard backing.

    "Hey, what're you doing?" demanded Liam.

    "Here," said Sam, handing Liam the mirror.

    Liam took the mirror from Sam and saw Sam was holding an old black and white photograph in his hand.

    Mr Galbraith and Mr Starr, sat in the living room of Brick House, surrounded by a party of young chubby men.

    "Don't be frightened, Liam," said Sam. "It's neutralised now, won't bother you again," he added, gesturing a sign of the cross over the photo. "Forget it now."


    Over the next weeks, Liam and Sam drew closer and closer, until Sam had practically moved into Liam's place. Every evening, around 9.30pm, the same pattern would repeat itself, with them both becoming supremely hungry and horny, and they would stuff themselves and make out with each other all evening and all night, before collapsing in post-orgasmic stupor, waking in the morning with only vague reflections of the night before. They talked less and less about this as though it was a problem or in any way a supernatural occurrence. It was just something they tacitly accepted, as part of their lives, something they enjoyed, something they did in the evenings, like others watch Netflix or play cards.

    Then one day something happened that shook Liam up and reawakened the fears he was having previously. He spotted a really good looking guy visiting nextdoor, and could not help but be nosey and ask Sandra who it was.

    "Oh, that's Julian," she said. "He used to live in your place, before you arrived. Now let me tell you the strangest thing. When he arrived, he was really slim, just like he is now. While he was here, he got really big, you know."

    "Big?" asked Liam.

    "Just like you and your fellow," she replied, and Liam simulated a laugh, although he was feeling freaked. They often joked about each other's weight. So she means fat, thought Liam.

    "And now he's returned to visit Denise, because they were friendly - there is some family connection between them although I can't remember what it is now."

    "Is Julian still around?" asked Liam.

    "No, only a brief visit, he's gone off to the other end of the country now," said Sandra. "But don't let that stop you chasing him, if you want me to get his number," she joked, and they both giggled again.

    When Liam spoke to Sam later that day, he told him about Julian, and how Julian had apparently piled on weight whilst living at Brick House, then lost it after leaving.

    "It's making me think about everything again," said Liam, "how weird it is, I have this feeling something's not right here."

    "But think about it, Liam," protested Sam. "All that's happened is a guy we don't even know gained weight, then lost weight. I mean, that sort of thing happens all the time. You're safe with me, completely safe, nothing can hurt you, nothing has hurt or harmed you, after all. Nothing. You know that, right? Any problem here is just in our heads."

    The conversation went back and forth, culminating in them both agreeing they would consult a friend of Sam's called Denzel, who Sam said was "very experienced, more experienced than me in all this sort of stuff."


    Denzel came round to visit, a charming, precise, well-educated, well-spoken man with a clipped voice, carrying a briefcase and wearing a suit. Liam noticed how he and Sam seemed immediately comfortable with each other and to know each other well. Sam would later tell him about how they had both worked at an office together, and been the joint victim of a troublemaking colleague who resented black guys succeeding more than he did.

    "Now this is how I see it," said Denzel after Liam and Sam had told him everything. "This is whatever you want it to be. If you are two guys being terrorised by spirits, it's that. If you are two guys in love, enjoying a harmless little private fetish, it's that. Choose."

    "But how can we?" protested Liam. "I mean, if it's spirits, if it's the dark side, how can we change that?"

    "By not fretting about it, by not fretting about it," replied Denzel. "I don't know that any of this is supernatural. But what I am telling you is that if it is, it is being caused by the angst, the conflict, the guilt-tripping you are putting on yourself. There aint no ghosts here, I can tell you that for absolute certain. If there was, I would sense it, see it. What there might be here is energies, phenomena coming out of your own pain, your own inner conflict. Now that I see all the time, not uncommon. I guarantee you though you aint got no ghosts, no human souls here."

    "Thank you," said Sam. "You've given us a lot to think about."

    "God bless you my friends," said Denzel, adding "And I must say you boys are looking mighty healthy", as he gently poked each of their bellies and smiled.

    After Denzel left, Liam and Sam discussed things further.

    "I have faith in Denzel," said Sam. "Yeah he's an odd guy, but when it comes to the other side, he's the best in the business. If he says there are no ghosts or spirits here, I believe him. He says if there is anything going on, it's only coming from our anxiety, so if we cut out the anxiety, it's gone."

    "When you say 'our anxiety', you mean my anxiety, right? So it's all my fault?"

    "No, no, no Liam," said Sam, holding his face close to his, "none of this is your fault at all, it's just one of those things, and I can tell you for a fact Denzel is right, this stuff is far more common than most people would think, normal practically."

    They talked on and on, and Liam's sense of unease began to dissipate. Why fret and worry when we can just live our lives and have fun? he thought. Besides, life has never been more awesome, what with having Sam here, and the delights of late night snacks, and the unbelievably incredible breathless multiorgasmic sex every night.


    The next months were more blissful than any Liam and Sam had experienced before. Their waistlines blew up, their tits ballooned, their asses and thighs swelled, and many of their gay friends looked askance about them, but they didn't care - well they more than didn't care, they loved it, they gloried in it, every little achievement, every little delicious humiliation. There came a day, though, when their anxieties, and especially Liam's, would come to the surface again.

    Liam had left his key at home and locked himself out, leaving him to wait another hour until Sam's arrival. So he went over nextdoor, to pass the time. This was one of the rarer occasions when he got to meet Denise, the elderly lady resident, for himself, although Sandra was also there, bubbly as ever and chatting away.

    For most of the visit, Denise remained silent, nodding away in the chair, but listening appreciatively and smiling or giving occasional glances of acknowledgement. Then, out of nowhere, she sat up straight in her chair, and began to talk:

    "Mr Galbraith and Mr Starr came to visit me yesterday afternoon. It was so lovely and they were so funny."

    "Don't be daft, Denise," waded in Sandra. "I was here all afternoon yesterday; they can't have been here at all."

    "Oh, they did, they did, while you were in the kitchen, dear," continued Denise.

    Sandra gave Liam a look, signalling her scepticism about what Denise was saying.

    "They are both in a care home now, living together. Very limited mobility now, poor dears. They were telling me how they get to float around all night and all day, go to all sorts of places, to places they know, to places they don't know, all over the world. All these interesting people they are getting to see, to meet..."

    And then, Denise seemed to be somewhere else, her eyes closing.

    "Poor dear," Sandra whispered to Liam. "I think it's those tablets."

    When Liam got to see Sam later that evening, he told him about what Denise had said.

    "I suppose there are possibilities here," reflected Sam. "Could it be that these two elderly men, bored and maybe confused in their care home, are astral travelling around, causing weird stuff to happen, seeking out chaps to make plump? I don't know. I will think about it more and have a chat with Denzel."

    "Don't you find it scary, Sam? What if these are fat fetishists, feeders or whatever we call them, doing stuff to guys to make them like this," he said, running his hands along his lover's now ample paunch.

    "Do we really care?" asked Sam, and they both looked at each other, and started laughing.

    "It's like what I said to you at the beginning, and what Denzel also explained to us. We have a choice here. If this is supernatural, and we want it to stop, all we gotta do is ask it to stop, properly ask it to stop, and it will stop. If it's doing no harm, if it's not bothering us, no need to worry."


    About a week later, Sandra knocked on the door. "Denise is going on about the gentlemen again," she told Liam. "I said I'd ask if you could show her the photo again, as she'd really like to see it once more. Is that okay?"

    "No problem," said Liam. "In actual fact, we found one other photo, so there are two photos with them in now," Liam added, remembering the photo Sam found behind the bedroom mirror. "Do you know what, tell Denise she can have them if she likes. She knew those people after all, and I expect they meant more to her than anything they do to us."

    "Oh, that's so, so lovely of you, dear!" said Sandra. Liam retrieved and handed over the photos, with a sense of relief, hoping never to see them again.

    Later that evening, Denise awoke from her nap, and Sandra pressed the two black and white photos into her lap.

    "That's them, that's them, it's like yesterday!" said Denise, looking at the first photo, of Mr Galbraith and Mr Starr together.

    "Yes, that's what you said when you saw that the first time," said Sandra.

    "And this is them again, with their big young men," she said, turning to the second photo and chortling softly.

    "Do you recognise any of them?"

    "Yes, yes," said Denise. "That nice Liam and Sam from nextdoor, they're in here."

    She's confused again, thought Sandra. That photo must be from the 1970s, before Liam and Sam were even born.

    "They all look so happy together," said Denise.

    "Yes, I'm sure they do."

    "Those four all together, so nice, don't you think?"

    "Yes, very lovely," said Sandra.

    Billy’s Bad Boy

    “Good morning, Rob. The usual?” Billy asked with a smile, as his favourite customer waddled in: a giant, 450lb burly and handsome guy in his mid fifties, with a particular love of all Billy’s tasty treats.

    “Yes please!” the greedy guy grinned, swallowing back saliva as he glanced at everything on offer. 

    If Rob had been gay and twenty years younger, Billy would have been after him for sure. The guy was so friendly and charismatic; supporting Billy as he worked his way up from owning a little mobile take-out truck, to the large premises he now inhabited in the middle of town. It hadn’t been easy to get the business up and running, but there was clearly a gap in the market for tasty snacks in this town, and Billy was sure going to fill it. 

    “Are you working out in this hot sun today, Rob?” Billy asked as he plated up Rob’s usual selection of cream-filled donuts. “You’d best have another one of these - on the house,” he winked flirtatiously at him as he put out another donut on the man’s loaded tray of food. “You’re going to need your energy!”

    Rob smiled back, always enjoying the way Billy playfully flirted with him, despite Rob being happily married for thirty years. “You know, my pants don’t quite fit like they used to since I started coming here every day,” the big man joked, rubbing his large, deliciously rounded gut.

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