“Do I have to?” I whined to Tara.

“Yes because it’s what I want for Christmas,” Tara replied over the phone.

“You were a lot nicer in my dream,” I said.

“Stop being such a baby. It won’t be that hard.”

“Not for you, but maybe for me.”

Tara had finally told me what she wanted me to get her for Christmas. Well, actually what she wanted me to do for her for Christmas. It was the worst thing she possibly could have asked for, the bane of boyfriends.

She wanted me to go shopping with her.

“Oh come on Liam. It’s not as bad as everyone makes it sound,” Tara said.

“Yes it is.”

“It’s not like you’re doing anything else the day before Christmas are you?”

“I have religious obligations,” I said.

“Your Mom told me that you’re not going to mass until 5:00,” Tara said.

“I’m having a root canal that day,” I said.

“Liam, this is going too far,” Tara said, starting to get stern with me.

“Please Tara, I’ll do anything. We can go skydiving together. I hate skydiving,” I pleaded.

“I’m going to come over and sit on you until you agree,” Tara threatened.

“Really? Would you? That’d be fun!” I said, “Let me just get dressed and then—”

“Liam!” Tara exclaimed in exasperation, “I go through all this trouble to get you a cool Christmas present and you won’t even go shopping with me?”

“You got me a cool Christmas present?” I asked.

“Yeah, but now I’m going to go return it. And it’s a real shame because it’s not just cool. It’s nifty,” Tara said.

I couldn’t resist anymore. “All right, when do you want to go?”

***

Tara absolutely loved the day before Christmas sales. She always went to go see what was on sale and now I was coming along with her. I had realized after telling Tara I’d go with her that this might not be as bad as I thought. I mean, after all, the worst thing that you could say to a girl when she was trying on clothes was, “That makes you look fat.” And here I was and that would probably be the absolutely best thing that I could do. Even though this was really Tara’s gift, I figured if I played my cards right I could enjoy myself a lot too.

Tara picked me up on that cool morning at about 10:00 AM. Though it was a little earlier than I would have liked, she wanted to give us plenty of time. In case you’ve never been out here, in California, 85% of all shopping centers are outdoors, so both Tara and I were in our matching water polo jackets, which, according to the rest of the team, made us “look so cute together”.

On our way down, I asked Tara how long she thought we’d be. “Oh, I don’t know, three hours at least,” Tara said.

“Will a lunch be provided?” I asked, “Perhaps a rather large lunch?”

“You can count on that,” Tara said with a smile, and then turned mock serious, “But I’m not sure if I should Liam. A girl’s got to watch her figure, you know.”

I playfully poked her paunch. “Yeah, watch it get rounder,” I teased.

“Stop that! I’m driving. We’ll have plenty of time for that later. Anyway, you’re the reason I’m here in the first place,” Tara said, “I’ve been pigging out with you so much that I’m nearly bursting out of everything I own!”

I evaluated Tara’s choice of clothing for the day. Her water polo jacket concealed her torso, so I couldn’t confirm the facts there. However, I noticed she was wearing some chic workout pants that appeared to be rather tight, especially around her thighs. Now that I knew the real reason for the shopping spree, I was extremely pleased Tara had cajoled me into coming.

“Well if you’d only said so in the first place I would have come without a fight,” I replied, “I can’t exactly abandon my girl when she’s in such dire straits as this.”

“I’ll call you next time I’m being chased by an alligator,” Tara said.

“Say, how much have you put on, anyway?” I asked. I realized that while I’d been watching her figure blossom, I hadn’t the slightest idea how much weight she’d put on. I’d always been bad with numbers anyway.

Tara thought for a moment. “I was about 160 when I started seeing you and yesterday I was almost 180, so that’s roughly 20 pounds.”

“Respectable, but I’m sure we can improve that,” I said, playfully giving Tara’s thighs a rub.

Naturally Tara had a coordinated attack plan for the day’s outing. There were no less than five different stores on her list and the limit on her credit card was sufficiently high enough to withstand such a barrage. I was blithely pulled along into our first stop for the day, Charlotte Russe. After about twenty minutes of browsing, Tara sequestered herself with her selections in one of the changing rooms while I waited for her in a surprisingly uncomfortable chair.

Tara came out in a pair of jeans with a rather stylish tanktop, surveying herself in the multiple mirrors before asking my opinion. I gave Tara a good once over. The jeans were, much to my delight, as form-fitting as ever. The tanktop showed off her luscious curves, but revealed none of her belly, something that hadn’t occurred in quite some time.

I stood up and gave the bottom of a tanktop a tug. “Well, haven’t seen this in a while. I suppose I sort of liked it better the other way.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be back there soon enough if you keep stuffing me,” Tara said.

“I’ll be sure to do it,” I said, and then put my hands around her waist, “How much room do you have in here?”

“Enough for now,” she retorted, “I’ll get something a little larger later on.”

While I sincerely hoped she didn’t, I decided that it’d be a good idea to have some larger clothes on hand for emergency purposes.

“So, out of curiosity, precisely what size are you up to now, my chubby cherub?” I asked.

Tara smiled. “Size 18.” I just about hit the roof I was so excited. “You like that?” Tara asked.

“Oh you bet,” I said.

The rest of the outfits that Tara modeled for me were much the same story. They showed off her stunning figure, whether by design or Tara’s size, by failed to reveal anymore flesh than they were intended too. I had high hopes as Tara and I left with a bag of her purchases.

Our next stop was Abercrombie & Fitch. To be honest, I was surprised they stocked anything as high as an 18, but sure enough they had it. The drill was much the same as it was at Charlotte Russe, but I liked the clothes better at Abercrombie & Fitch. Especially since it looked like their size 18 might be just a little smaller than Charlotte Russe’s. I, naturally, decided against saying anything to that effect. After all, size 20s were scarce on the racks anyway. While I was waiting for Tara outside the dressing room, I though I heard some girls whispering, “Doesn’t he look like he could be one of their male models?” When I turned around to see who they were talking about, they both quickly turned to looking at a pair of pants. I had the distinct idea they’d been talking about me, even though I’d never though I’d had the best looks.

Since Tara now had another bag, I was naturally drafted to hold this on our journey down to what I was expecting to be my favorite stop, Victoria’s Secret. Needless to say as a guy I’d never quite had the excuse to go in. In fact, Tara didn’t give me an excuse because she said she thought it’d be better if I just waited outside and she wouldn’t be long (and I know you’re just as disappointed as I am).

So I waited outside, reading Brave New World for about half an hour until which point Tara handed me her bad from Charlotte Russe and dragged me down what was becoming an infinite concourse of stores.

“What fun is it for me to come with you shopping if you don’t let me tell you how stunning you look, especially in a store like that?” I asked.

“There are limits to decency,” Tara replied, “and just wait. I promise to show you everything at the next store.”

I decided not to tell Tara that I didn’t think it would be a fair trade off, but I figured that I should hold my tongue and just see what the next stop was. It turned out to be Limited’s Express, which met with my tacit approval. To me, everything had begun to blur together so the last outfit looked just as stunning as the first and I told her so at every opportunity. Occassionally she had me run some clothes that were too small back to where they came from, but not after I got a good look at her in them first.

There was one really outstanding outfit that Tara put on. I’d “accidentally” given her a smaller size rather than a larger one when she’d asked me for it. And it appeared Tara didn’t notice until she got out and took a look in the mirrors. The jeans were obviously too tight and I swore the seams protested with every move. The only way Tara had been able to get them on was to button them bellow her giant gut that was now hanging in clear view from underneath a t-shirt that had no chance of covering up her milky white tummy. Underneath the t-shirt you could clearly see the outline of Tara’s bra that cut into her flesh ever so subtly. There was very little left to my imagination as I looked at my portly girlfriend.

“Oh! This is even worse than the first!” Tara exclaimed when she saw herself.

“Actually, I think it shows off your best features,” I said, even though my advice hadn’t been asked for.

“No, this’ll never do,” Tara said and jiggled off back to her dressing room, cutting my enjoyment short. I wasn’t sure, but I could have sworn she shot me a dirty look on her way in. Probably just my imagination, I thought.

A few minutes later Tara called for me and I obediently got up to put away the too small clothes and this time get the right size. I rapped softly on the door and Tara opened it. I stuck my arm in to receive the hangars of ill-fitting clothing and was, much to my surprise, pulled in with the door shut behind me.

“Sweet saints and angels!” I said, bracing myself against the door as my knees went weak and my breath escaped me.

Standing there was Tara in nothing but a green bikini. If I thought Tara looked good before, I didn’t have words to describe her appearance here (though I’ll do my best for you). The vast expanse of white flesh on her body was better than I had ever dreamed. Her large, melon sized breasts pushed up against the fabric of her top seductively, the deep cleavage between them enchanting me. The strings of her bikini everywhere cut through soft, yielding fat. Further down Tara’s immense belly hung unimpeded, spherical down past what I guessed to be her waist, though I wasn’t sure anymore. Tara definitely had a spare tire and inviting love handles that were calling out to be squeezed. Her hips were covered, though perhaps not as well as Tara might have liked, by the green bikini bottom. Looking in the mirror behind Tara, I could see the bottom of her butt cheeks poking out of the confines of the bikini and the dual globes of her ass pressing tautly against the material, leaving a little valley between them. Tara’s thighs no longer sported the miniscule gap that they had when Tara and I had begun our relationship, just touching near the tops. They were also, I was pleased to note, devoid of cellulite at a moment’s inspection.

“Oops,” Tara said coyly, “Looks like this is too small too.” I was still too breathless to say anything, so Tara advanced towards me a step saying. “What do you think Liam?” My futile efforts to move my jaw from its hanging position amused Tara, who gently laced her arms around me. “Maybe I should be watching all that snacking I’ve been doing lately. You know, all those cookies and ice cream and cake and milkshakes and pudding and chips and pizza has all got to go somewhere.”

“Oh Tara,” I said and started kissing her furiously everywhere I could, playfully squeezing anything I could reach. That image of Tara became forever imprinted upon my mind.

Roughly twenty minutes later I was too exhausted to do anything more and I rested my head against Tara’s as I nearly hung limp on her. Tara, of course, promised to buy the bikini, and one more in a larger size just in case, so we’d have plenty of opportunity to finish things up later.

We then left and headed to the food court after I’d gotten my strength back (after all, I had to carry three bags now). When we got there, Tara revealed she had one more Christmas surprise for me.

“I’m going to have one dish from every place here,” Tara announced.

I nearly fainted. There were about ten different fast food operations at the food court, each catering to a different taste. I couldn’t believe that Tara would undertake something so ambitious. Naturally, however, I wasn’t about to object. I volunteered to go get each plate for Tara, but she apparently had certain orders worked out, so she said that she’d take care of it, though she might want my help later on.

Tara started off with a good old American quarter-pound cheeseburger and fries that were quickly finished off. Then next came three tacos from the Mexican joint, which were also gone before I knew it. The steak sandwich didn’t last much longer, but Tara took her time with her gyros, which she really enjoyed. As far as I could tell, there wasn’t much proof of her efforts on her figure yet, but I figured that that was only a matter of time.

Next came the Chinese food, which was rice and some sort of sweet and sour chicken that Tara really relished. She was definitely going slower than her initial pace, so I massaged Tara’s tummy after she’d reached this halfway mark. Several people gave the two of us strange looks, and I actually smiled back at one of them. I think that sort of freaked them out. Tara’s shirt was now beginning to ride up past her waist a little bit, but not much more than maybe half an inch.

Fish tacos, a California delicacy, were next on Tara’s agenda, followed by a slice of pepperoni pizza. I suggested to Tara that she get an entire pizza, but she promised me with a wink that she’d save that for another day. The meager hot dog on a stick allowed Tara a brief respite, but she finished an entire lemonade with it. After that was the much more formidable chicken caesar salad wrap, which caused Tara a little bit more effort. She was now really laboring with her food, but didn’t appear to be in any pain. I couldn’t help but be seriously turned on by her cheeks bulging with food and her belly that was growing ever tauter.

Tara had saved the best for last. There was this one place at the food court that was notorious for its desserts and Tara had me order her a large ice cream sundae from them. Large wasn’t quite the word for it though. Gigantic, titanic, immense, larger-than-life all could have been better than “large”. Tara was expecting this, and, despite her slower pace, valiantly dug into the ice cream as I sat next to her, cheering her on in my kind and loving way.

Halfway through the sundae, Tara had to stop and sit back with a groan. “I don’t think I’ll be able to finish,” Tara said, obviously under a lot of pressure.

Unable to bear the thought that Tara might not be able to finish, I was struck with a brilliant idea. “How about I feed you the rest of the ice cream? That way you won’t have to use up energy for anything except chewing.”

After a moment’s thought, Tara assented and I eagerly, but slowly enough for Tara shoveled in spoonfuls of delicious ice cream through her mouth. I used the opportunity to slip my other hand down to continue massaging her taut tummy, over an inch of which all the way around was exposed by the gap between the waist of her pants, which was digging into her flesh now that her belly contained more than usual, and her shirt.

The last few spoonfuls were almost too much for Tara, but she was able to get them down, finishing off her binge with a burp. I could no longer hold myself back and started kissing Tara profusely as she sat back in relief.

“This has been perhaps the sexiest Christmas I’ve ever had,” I whispered in Tara’s ear. She only went red with embarrassment in response.

After Tara had rested up, she insisted that we finish our shopping. Tara, full from all the food, lumbered down to our next store, which was Lane Bryant. As we walked in, Tara informed me that she’d specifically wanted to come here after she’d filled herself to the brim with food so she could find comfortable clothing to grow in. I was suddenly struck by how logical Tara had been there and couldn’t help but flatter her with how smart she was.

Tara tried on several very trendy outfits, all of which met with my approval. The 18/20 size fit Tara very nicely, but she also bought some 22/24 pants just in case, as well as bras to fit Tara’s current size, a very arousing 38D Tara privately informed me and a couple in larger sizes just in case.

We left, exhausted and bag-laden and I was very pleased that Tara had persuaded me to come with her for that day of shopping.

***

We didn’t speak to one another until after Christmas, both being absorbed in our own families festivities. However, when I got a call from Tara two days after Christmas, it wasn’t exactly what I had hoped for.

“Liam, what’s this about you telling Chelsea that she was good-looking?” Tara asked me.

I was a little stunned by this allegation, but remembered saying something to Chelsea after she had missed Ross after a water polo game. “Well, I didn’t exactly say that in so many words,” I said, trying to extricate myself from this predicament before it got any worse. Unfortunately, that was about the worst thing I could have said.

“So then what did you say?” Tara demanded.

“Well I’m not exactly sure, but it was something along the lines of how I couldn’t blame Ross for liking her,” I said, groping the depths of my memory to make sure I had gotten it right.

“Oh really?”

“Yes…what’s up Tara?”

“So since when did you take such an interest in Chelsea?” Tara asked.

“I haven’t taken an interest in her. I just—” I started, but Tara cut me off.

“Liam! And after everything…” Tara said, and I could tell she was getting really worked up on the other end of the line.

“Look Tara, it’s not like that,” I tried to say, but then I heard the receiver slam down on the other end.

I tried calling Tara’s phone, but she wouldn’t pick up. When I called her house phone, her mother politely told me that she wasn’t in the mood to talk with me right now. I sent Tara an e-mail, but I didn’t expect that’d get answered.

With no alternative left, I started cursing violently. Tara had gotten so worked up about one random little comment. Did she really think that after all this time and everything I’d said that I’d just skip off after the next girl that caught my eye?

That was when I looked at the calendar and saw that the Nereid Invitational was only three days away. I suddenly realized that if I didn’t make up with Tara, chances were she was going to play horribly and then I’d have an entire water polo team that, regardless of their friendships with Tara, was going to beat me into a pulp.

I fell back on my bed and tried to figure out something to save me from becoming little more than ground meat.