Bret
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Bruce and the Beast
🕑 Added 2023-11-03 04:53:26 +0000 UTCStory time - detailing a remarkable and prideful feast as a 450lb man.
*a true story by the way*
Audio File:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Cm2ZkDiEzQtQh378O_AGX-0MrX7MISYf/view?usp=drivesdk
Transcript:
Bruce and the Beast
I roadtripped back home to Alberta with a friend for Thanksgiving this year. He’s the cute little otter featured in my BJ vid recently. Had a great time hanging with him and he made certain that I was kept well fed throughout. He planned snack stops, hotels with breakfast buffets, and a lot of amazing restaurants along our route.
One particularly wonderful stop we made near the end of our road trip was at the Bruce Hotel in Bruce, AB.
Now, it’s important to first appreciate just how rural this place is. There is a single hotel and a single restaurant and they are both the same place. These are real Albertan, country folk.
The Bruce Hotel offers a steak dinner with buffet style sides and desserts. My friend told me this place was known for it’s incredible food. I miss the beef in AB so much since moving to BC and I’m always excited to get my hands on a nice big juicy steak when I visit.
I had been overeating so much on this trip already. Whenever I eat like that regularly it makes me hungrier and hungrier with each passing day. After a week or two I am insatiable. We booked our reservation and when we rolled into town I was absolutely starving. My belly was rumbling and grumbling in anticipation. I felt like a predator must when it’s kill is within reach.
I waddled in behind my friend. The small space was clean but also quite old, like a well kept legion hall. A legion is just a small community centre and bar run for veterans in Canada — if you’re Canadian, you know the vibe.
A lot of the tables are filled up already and these are all obviously local people. A lot of the men are heavy-set farm boys. Plenty of flannel, hats that could probably use a wash, and big calloused workers hands. They’re mostly dining in large groups of 6+. Multi-generational families, friends, whatever; a pretty busy place.
I’m used to getting stares in public because of my size. I live in Vancouver and if you know anything about our demographics, we are a very fit and very body conscious group… minus myself of course. Hence, the stares I get in Vancouver are sometimes coupled with a sneer or two.
I make my way into the dining room and almost every person turns to stare at me. I’m not shocked — but these stares were different. Not a single sneer, not a single judgement. As I passed one older gentleman on my way to our table, his stare dragged slowly up from my belly to greet my eyes. He gave me an impressed smile and a nod. They were staring in admiration!
My big fat soul flung into the air where it spun itself into a state of ecstasy. I proudly wobbled over to our table, sat with a thump and looked over the menu with a grin plastered on my face. I was primed to give it my all. This would be an enormous, indulgent and most certainly over-the-top feast.
Our waitress came and took our steak order. I ask for two 8oz steaks, a cocktail and a coke. She gives us instructions to start at the buffet for salads while the steak is being cooked. As she leaves she smiles to me and says,
“Don’t hold back sweetheart. Calories don’t count here.”
I thank her and as I hoist myself up, my gainer brain forces a smirk as I think to myself,
“Yes they do”.
There isn’t a ton of space between tables (not for me anyway) so I manoeuvre carefully between chairs, tables and patrons. I belly up to the buffet and my eyes go wide as they peruse the well stocked salad bar.
There isn’t a scrap of pretension about this place. Just by looking at these dishes you can tell that they are passed down community recipes — honed to deliciousness from decades of trial and error at weddings, Thanksgivings, and pot-lucks. Grandma Nora’s broccoli salad, aunt Judy’s boiled potatoes with creamy dill sauce, Uncle Tom’s baked beans and bacon. This is down low, calorie laden community food meant to please a crowd. I wonder how many lbs these dishes have added to the waists of men and women here.
The kitchen is right next to the spread and is bustling with the small adorable matriarchs of this community. Their busy hands have a lifetime of experience keeping their loved ones nourished and likely overfed. They trundle out of the kitchen armed with ladles and heavy bowls piled high with food. They are continually stocking the buffet as it is torn apart by us ravenous beasts.
I snarl a little while I fill my first plate to the brim and excitedly hurry back to the table. I know this is gonna be good.
Each bite is pure pleasure. Full fat, full flavour homecooking made with love and experience. That good shit. The type of stuff I go crazy for. Every single dish is amazing. I inhale the first plate in no time at all and I somehow feel hungrier than when I first sat down.
I’m back up at the buffet like a flash — well, as quickly as a 450lb man moves like a flash. When I thump back down at the table with a huff the owner comes over to check in and see how we’re doing. He’s about my age, handsome, most definitely straight, big long beard that just about reaches his beer belly. He calls me “Boss” the entire conversation, tells us about the new trifle they’re trying out, wants to know what we think of it.
I’m an absolute trifle fanatic so I start absentmindedly rubbing my belly while he talks about it. Just before he leaves he winks and says,
“Don’t be shy, we want to make sure we get you fed”.
😳
My hands are already on my belly so I get the supreme pleasure of thumping it on top loudly with a prideful grin and saying to him and to the other tables that are listening “Do I look like I’m shy around trifle?”
Chuckles from the other tables, a big smile from the owner.
“Nope, you sure don’t, Boss”.
😩
I just about finish my second plate when the steaks arrive and they look stunning. I panic because I want to have full plates alongside my main course, so I scarf down what’s left of my plate and rush to the buffet to fill another from the salad bar. I drop it off at the table and immediately lumber back to the buffet, this time for my hot sides — fried mushrooms, caramelized onions, baked beans, potatoes, garlic bread. 🤤
This particularly fat move — the double plate fill — warranted a lot of stunned looks from patrons while I ladled up more food than a whole family would eat. I waddle back. A little slower this time, and a little out of breath. I land again with a thump and definitely a few huffs this time. I hear someone a few tables over remark with a laugh,
“That big fellah is gonna shut the place down!”
And what a perfect cue to dig the fuck in!
I grab my cutlery.
I push my chair back a bit so my belly has room.
I sit near the edge of my seat.
I swing my legs wide so my belly can hang.
And I eat.
And I eat and I eat and I eat and I eat and I eat.
And the steak is cooked so nice, and the horseradish goes so well, and the beans are tangy and sweet and the potatoes are creamy with dill and the mushrooms are peppered and the salad is crisp and the coke goes down
so
damn
well
and the spinach has candied pecans! and the garlic bread is intense and the trifle is waiting for me and the beef is so velvety, gorgeous and rich, and beautiful, satisfying and everything I needed it to be…
and Grandma Nora’s broccoli salad is
So…
Fucking…
Good!!
I toss my cutlery down to the table as I lean all my weight back. My chair groans as I take slow deliberate breaths. My hand slowly rubs the firm crest of my belly. It’s full, wide and distended. It stretches my shirt to it’s limits. I feel like a lion who has gorged himself into a sleepy stupor. I feel proud. Amongst the other lions, I am by far the biggest, the hungriest and the most deserving of the lion’s share.
I allow myself a moment’s rest to digest and relax. The owner is still making his rounds and joking with the other patrons. I see him clap his hand onto the shoulder of another big man a few tables down. No doubt giving him the same welcoming talk I got… The trifle!
Isn’t it incredible that you can be stuffed to the absolute brim, gorged, glutted and so full that you can hardly breathe — one single thought of a little something sweet crosses your mind, and it’s all you can think about.
I steel myself and gather some confidence in my legs. I carefully and deliberately lift. My heavy belly throws off my balance so I have to lean back to correct it arcing my gut out even further. I slowly plod back to the buffet for the fifth and final time. The path is much tighter than before. I carefully adjust chairs out of the way as my belly pulls my gait side to side, my footfalls thundering between the tables. I offer many a polite “excuse me” as my enormous belly bulges into personal spaces and threatens to knock grandpa Jim out of his seat.
I finally get to the dessert table and see that those sweet hard working ladies had just brought out a fresh trifle — god bless ‘em! I don’t believe in god but they probably do, so bless ‘em anyway!
I fill one final plate with treats. Probably with too many, but I’m in no state to be thinking rationally. Cookies, fresh fruit, chocolate caramel trifle and the carrot cake trifle the owner wanted us to try. Though neither of these are true trifles in my mind, they are indeed delicious and these last sweet, creamy, indulgent bites are exactly what I needed. I don’t know how, but I manage to eat it all. Every last bite, every last crumb. Everything is packed firmly into this mammoth belly. I finally lean back, finally satisfied and close my eyes.
My friend and I chat for a few moments longer as I let the sugar rush wash over me. It’s invigorating! It peps me up and makes me feel like I can manage the long drive back to our place for the night.
I take my time hefting myself up, paying and thanking our waiter, smiling to the sweet old ladies as I pass — all while tenderly rubbing this ridiculously engorged belly of mine. It sways far out in front of me, heavy and low, a good 3 inches of overhang is now bulging out from under the shirt. Owner comes up and pats me on the back,
“Looks like you got to try both trifles! Thought you might.”
I laugh a bit as I tell him how great they were and in fact how great the whole meal was. He mentions that they try out new dessert recipes all the time and told me to come back and give them a taste.
The owner was beaming as we left and seemed so proud of the establishment and how well he could feed even a guy of my substantial size and appetite.
I fell in love with this place in a heartbeat and for a brief moment I contemplate moving to this tiny little town. Making friends with all the big, well fed locals. Becoming a stalwart regular at the buffet and ballooning up past 600lbs. Bigger than anyone they’ve ever seen before. Such impressive size and weight that they can’t help but keep me increasingly well fed. I would upgrade to two seats in the dining hall and eventually have those sweet little old ladies just plate me up at the table to save me the trip to the buffet. After all there isn’t enough room for me in between the tables anymore and this beast has developed a voracious appetite! — Fantasy aside, this whole experience just felt so magical to me. Everyone there celebrated indulgence and rewarded and applauded a healthy appetite. It is a beautiful pure little gem of hospitality and love and I wish there were more places like the Bruce Hotel. Especially nearby so I could eat and grow and stay their largest and happiest regular. 🥰
Anyway, I was so excited by the experience that I pulled into a dairy queen in the next town and got an ice cream for the drive home. 😝
Comments
Richard Van Fossan
That’s my fat boy! Enjoy all the food you can get! Time to grow bigger!
WorldOfSize
You're an excellent writer! Damn that was a hot story.
Addinlbs
A true gainertopia, described so wonderfully! Would love to read more of your writing as you tell a story so incredibly well! 💜🍰✨
