Stuffed

Chapter 1

Jess closed the car door with a soft thud, the sound crisp in the stillness of the late autumn afternoon. The cool air swirled around her, tugging at the loose strands of her hair, and she took a moment to smooth them back into place. Through the window, she watched Benny struggle out of the driver’s seat, his movements heavy and deliberate. His suede coat hung open, framing the curve of his stomach as he stood and adjusted himself, pulling his coat closer around him against the cold, though the two sides were far from meeting. His sweater beneath was stretched taut across his middle, the fabric pulling in all the wrong places to leave no doubt about how much room he now took up. Jess had picked out the outfit herself, insisting it looked “sharp” when she handed it to him that morning. He hadn’t questioned her judgment, he rarely did, but she knew full well he was self-conscious about how tight it felt. That was the point.

A satisfied smile tugged at her lips as Benny shuffled to the back of the car to grab their duffle bag, his large belly leading him wherever he went. He hoisted the bag over his shoulder and turned toward her, his face already tinged pink from the short exertion.

Jess took in the sight of him for a moment longer before turning toward the house. At the beginning of their marriage, this moment would have made her stomach churn with nerves. Benny’s mother had always been a bit of a force, a woman who could voice her sharp and unsolicited opinions with just enough tact or concern to make them seem loving. Her outspoken critiques had always left Jess walking on eggshells. This time, however, was different. Now, Jess felt excited.

Benny was so much bigger now, significantly fatter than last year, to say the least. His body was soft and heavy in ways that she knew no one in his family would be able to ignore. Ever since she had discovered how much Benny loved to stuff himself deep down, it had been her mission to exploit it at every possible moment, some ways more obvious than others. But he never really complained, likely believing she was just entertaining his own desires. His weight gain had only sped up, his body ballooning out even more under her hand. Jess had done that. Every pound he’d put on was a testament to her influence, to the way she had guided him toward excess, capitalizing on every glimmer of enjoyment he felt when he ate too much. Even now, he didn’t truly understand how deeply she was involved in his gain. But Jess did, and Thanksgiving seemed like the perfect opportunity to show him off.

“This is gonna suck,” Benny muttered as he came up beside her, his voice low and laced with dread, breathing heavily. He shifted the bag on his shoulder, his free hand brushing against hers. Jess looked up at him, taking in the flush of his cheeks and the slight sheen of sweat on his brow. He wasn’t even through the door yet, and he already looked overwhelmed.

Jess smiled, slipping her hand under his elbow and giving it a light squeeze as they began the short walk up the driveway. He’d wanted to spend Thanksgiving alone this year, just the two of them. At first, she thought it was because he was afraid of how his family might react to his gain. But at times she liked to believe it was because he wanted the freedom to indulge without restraint, to let his appetite take center stage without judgment on what was both their favorite holiday.

“You’ll be fine,” she said, her tone breezy, reassuring. When they reached the door, Jess rang the bell, her finger pressing firmly into the button. Benny stood beside her, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as they waited. “Just think of all the pie you’ll have.”

Chapter 2

The front door swung open, and Benny’s mother stood on the other side. Her bright smile was warm but tinged with the familiar frazzle of holiday hosting. For a fleeting moment, Benny’s chest eased, his anxiety slipping into the background. Then her eyes landed on him, and her smile faltered, her expression shifting to one of surprise.

Her gaze traveled down his body, lingering just a second too long on his middle. Benny clenched his jaw. Please don’t say anything, he thought, mentally begging her not to bring up what he knew was obvious. He could practically feel the words forming behind her lips, waiting to spill out. The moment stretched, thick and suffocating, but then Jess’s voice cut through the tension.

“Hey, Dana, it’s so good to see you!” Jess said brightly, stepping forward with a confident ease that Benny envied. She wrapped his mother in a hug, her practiced enthusiasm radiating. His mother blinked, startled out of her shock, and returned the hug.

“Jess, sweetie, you look great,” she said, though her voice sounded distant. Her eyes flicked back to Benny, lingering as if trying to reconcile the person standing before her with the son she remembered.

Benny seized the moment to adjust his sweater, tugging at the hem and smoothing the fabric over his stomach in a futile attempt to make himself look smaller. The tight material only emphasized his size, a fact he became painfully aware of as he caught his reflection in the small decorative mirror by the door. Why did I agree to wear something so snug? He cursed himself silently, though he knew the answer. Jess had said it looked nice, and when she said something with that smile of hers, he rarely argued.

His mother and Jess pulled apart, and Dana’s attention swung back to Benny. He shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, his shoes squeaking faintly against the tiled entryway.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, clearing his throat. He stepped into the house and leaned in for a quick, perfunctory hug, his arms brushing awkwardly against hers. “Been a while.”

“Oh, Benny...” she said softly as she pulled away. Her voice was filled with that familiar maternal concern that made his chest clench. She shook her head slightly, her eyes sweeping over him again.

I know, Benny thought sadly, almost dejectedly, though he didn’t say it aloud. Her reaction wasn’t surprising, but it still stung. He couldn’t blame her, sometimes he shocked himself when he caught his reflection or saw old pictures. He’d been gaining steadily the last few years, but the past year had pushed him into uncharted territory. His appetite had spiraled out of control, fueled by heavy meals, fast food runs, and Jess’s constant support and encouragement, even of his bad habits. Food had become a comfort and a crutch, and his body bore the evidence in every extra inch.

Before his mother could say more, a voice called out from behind her. “There he is!”

Benny’s older brother, Ethan, appeared in the doorway, a wide grin on his face. His eyes scanned Benny quickly, and his laughter was immediate—not cruel, but loud and full of surprise.

“Benny!” Ethan greeted, stepping forward and pulling him into a rough hug. “Man, look at you. You’ve, uh... you’ve been eating well, huh?”

Benny felt his face heat up instantly, the flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. He frowned at his brother, trying but failing to brush off the comment. “Can I at least get through the door before you start in on me?” he said, his tone sharp but not harsh.

Ethan held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin unrelenting. “Didn’t mean it like that! It’s just... well, you know.”

Benny ignored him, shouldering past and stepping further into the house. His movements were slow, deliberate, a self-conscious waddle that he couldn’t entirely mask. He heard Jess and Ethan exchanging pleasantries behind him, but he focused on getting away instead.

The familiar smell of Thanksgiving wafted from the kitchen—roast turkey, fresh-baked bread, and the unmistakable buttery scent of mashed potatoes. It wrapped around him like a warm blanket, briefly soothing his nerves. He caught sight of his sister-in-law, Emily, standing by the stove, a wooden spoon in hand as she stirred something thick and bubbling.

“Hey, Emily,” Benny said, offering her a small, hesitant smile.

She turned at the sound of his voice, her eyes widening for a split second before she schooled her expression into something neutral. “Oh, hey, Benny!” she said, her voice a little too bright.

Benny’s smile tightened. He would have to get used to that look now, the quick unguarded flash of surprise followed by the forced recovery. It would become a part of his life, like the way chairs creaked under his weight or how he always had to check if a booth at a restaurant would be comfortable. Still, it stung, and he quickly averted his gaze.

He felt the heat of his mom’s eyes on his back as he shuffled toward the living room. His chest tightened, and his steps faltered for just a moment before he caught himself. He would try his best to keep them from seeing how much it bothered him. He was here, and there wasn’t really any escape.

The living room buzzed with quiet activity, a low hum of conversation, laughter, and footsteps. Some of Benny’s relatives were heading out to the backyard, others settling into the well-worn couches and armchairs scattered around. The television played a muted football game, and an old radio in the corner played staticky Christmas music, adding to the holiday ambiance.

When Benny stepped inside, he was greeted with polite nods and cursory smiles.
“Hey there, Benny,” his uncle said from across the room.
“Good to see you,” his cousin added, standing by the sliding glass door that led outside.

Benny returned their greetings with a muttered “Hey,” and a quick “You too,” his voice quiet amidst the noise of the room. But their eyes lingered. He could feel the weight of their stares, the subtle but unmistakable way they sized him up.

Each glance left him feeling heavier, like their attention added invisible pounds to his frame. His coat, which had felt warm and stylish earlier, now felt suffocating, the open fabric doing little to hide the swell of his middle. He pulled it off, fully revealing his sweater, which clung to him in ways he couldn’t ignore, the tight knit fabric emphasizing the girth he wished he could downplay.

Spotting an empty couch, Benny lowered himself onto it with a quiet grunt. The cushions compressed under his weight, groaning slightly as he settled in. He let out a long sigh, his body sinking into the soft embrace of the couch. It had only been a few minutes, and he was already exhausted—mentally, physically, emotionally.

It’s just one day, he reminded himself, though the thought did little to comfort him. He shifted in his seat, trying to make himself smaller, which felt impossible. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his sweater, pulling it down even though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

A moment later, Jess appeared in the doorway, a bright smile on her face and a small plate in her hands. He hadn’t even noticed where she’d disappeared to, too wrapped up in his own spiraling thoughts, but he felt a bit of relief when he saw her.

“Here you go, hun,” she said, her tone cheerful as she stepped toward him. She held out a napkin and the plate, revealing two golden cheese danishes, the flaky pastry still warm.

Benny’s stomach growled loudly at the sight of them, and his cheeks flushed. They hadn’t stopped anywhere during the six-hour drive down, which had left him hungrier than he realized. His nerves had kept his appetite at bay, but now, confronted with food, he couldn’t ignore the gnawing emptiness in his belly.

“Thanks,” he said softly, taking the plate from her hands. His gaze darted around the room, embarrassed to be the only one eating. Dinner wasn’t far off, and he knew he should wait. But restraint wasn’t his strong suit anymore, especially not when Jess offered him food.

“You’re welcome,” Jess replied, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. Her lipstick left a faint, warm imprint on his skin. She straightened up, brushing her hair back as she glanced toward the kitchen. “I’m going to help your mom with dinner.”

Benny nodded, already sinking his teeth into the first danish. The sweet, creamy filling melted in his mouth, the buttery pastry flaking apart perfectly. He barely noticed Jess walk away, too focused on the pastry and the way it instantly quelled the growl in his stomach.

Before long, the first danish was gone. He didn’t even pause, diving into the second with the same fervor. The taste was comforting, easing his anxieties almost immediately.

“Benny boy!”

His dad’s booming voice startled him mid-bite. Benny jerked his head up, catching sight of his father leaning halfway through the sliding door to the backyard.

“Someone said you were here,” his dad called, his deep voice carrying across the room. “What are you doing sitting on your ass? Get out here and throw the ball around!”

Benny swallowed hurriedly, the bite of danish catching slightly in his throat. He reached for his napkin to wipe his hands, acutely aware of how out of place he felt. Everyone else seemed so active, moving from room to room or out in the backyard, and here he was, already planted on the couch with a plate of food.

“Hey, Dad,” Benny called back, forcing a laugh. “I’m good, actually. It was a long drive, you know?” He tried to sound light, casual, but his voice wavered.

His dad’s eyes flicked to his stomach, the scrutiny making Benny’s heart sink.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” his dad said, stepping fully inside now. His tone was jovial, but Benny heard the firm edge beneath it. “Get out here.”

Benny knew that voice. It was the same tone his dad had used when he was a kid, telling him to mow the lawn or shovel snow. It wasn’t a request, it was an expectation. He wasn’t getting out of this.

With a resigned sigh, Benny stuffed the last half of his danish into his mouth, barely chewing as he pushed himself off the couch. He tried to move quickly, but his body didn’t cooperate. Standing up felt like an ordeal, his joints creaking and his middle wobbling slightly as he straightened.

He grabbed his coat, not bothering to shrug it back on, and waddled toward his father. His steps felt heavy under his gaze, his embarrassment growing as he approached the door.

The cool autumn air greeted him as he stepped outside, but instead of relief, Benny felt exposed. The backyard stretched out before him, filled with family members tossing a football and chatting around the patio furniture. He sighed again, bracing himself for the inevitable awkwardness to come.

Chapter 3

In the kitchen, the earthy aroma of roasted vegetables mixed with the savory tang of a turkey in its final stages of cooking. Jess worked quietly at the counter, her hands deftly crimping the perimeter of a pumpkin pie. The task was simple, but she took her time, ensuring each curve was symmetrical and perfectly spaced.

Behind her, Dana stood at the stove, overseeing the gravy with a quiet intensity. Every so often, she barked a terse instruction to Emily, who was awkwardly attempting to assemble a pecan pie of her own at the adjacent counter.

“Not like that,” Dana corrected sharply. “You need to fold the edges of the crust over first. Otherwise, it’ll crack.”

Emily muttered an apology, her cheeks flushing pink as she adjusted the dough under her mother-in-law’s watchful eye. Jess, meanwhile, kept her head down, focusing on her own task. She’d learned long ago that it was best to stay out of Dana’s way in the kitchen.

The dining room table was nearly ready, just a few finishing touches needed before the feast could begin. Jess couldn’t wait. Not just for the food, though the spread promised to be exceptional, but for the dinner itself. The reactions, the comments, the lingering stares; seeing everyone’s shock at Benny’s size had been immensely satisfying so far. The subtle gasps, the awkward glances, the whispers exchanged when they thought she wasn’t paying attention, it was all proof of her success.

But dinner would be the main event. There would be no avoiding Benny’s weight at the table, especially not with the way he ate.

Dana’s footsteps approached, and Jess felt a shadow fall over her work. She glanced up to see her mother-in-law inspecting the pie. Dana’s expression was neutral, her sharp eyes scanning every detail. Jess waited, bracing for a critique, but instead, Dana gave a slight nod.

“Looks fine,” she said curtly, moving on to wipe an already spotless section of the counter with a towel.

Jess allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. After years of cooking for Benny, honing her skills to create meals that were as irresistible as they were calorie-laden, she’d become a pretty good chef. Good enough, it seemed, to pass Dana’s high standards.

“What have you been feeding Benny?”

The question came out of nowhere, catching Jess completely off guard. She froze, her hands stilling as she processed the words.

“What?” she asked, turning her head to look at Dana.

“At home,” Dana clarified, her tone sharper now. “Breakfast, dinner... what sorts of things do you make?”

Dana’s eyes locked onto Jess’s, unblinking and intense. Jess blinked back, the realization dawning on her: Dana thought Benny’s weight gain was her fault.

The notion wasn’t absurd, of course, Benny’s size was very much by design. But still, Jess had anticipated the comments and judgment would be directed at Benny, not her. This was an unexpected twist, and one that thrilled her in a strange way.

“Oh, well,” Jess began, stalling as she considered her response. “Nothing special, most of the time.” She paused, then added with a hint of feigned reluctance, “Although... he does eat quite a bit.”

Dana’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression hardening as she absorbed the statement. She nodded slowly, the motion almost imperceptible, before shaking her head in disbelief.

“He’s just gotten so...large,” she said, almost to herself, as though trying to make sense of it. She reached for the towel again, this time brushing away a few crumbs from the counter before tossing them into the trash.

Jess felt her stomach flip—not with guilt, but with excitement. It was a moment she hadn’t been expecting but one she wouldn’t waste, a chance to fan the flames of Dana’s concern while maintaining her carefully crafted facade of innocence.

“I know,” Jess said carefully, her voice low and somber. She hesitated, debating whether to take things a step further. Deciding it was worth the risk, she added, “I think... I think he’s almost 400 pounds.”

Dana’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening in shock. Across the room, Emily’s head whipped around, her hands freezing mid-motion as she stared at Jess.

“Are you serious?” Emily asked, her voice high with disbelief.

Jess bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. She nodded, keeping her expression as neutral as possible. “His appetite just never seems to end,” she said, a note of exasperation in her tone. “Especially recently. It feels like I make enough for four people, and he’s still so hungry all the time.”

Dana placed a hand on her chest, her face a mixture of surprise and confusion. “Do you think something’s wrong? I... I mean, what could be going on?” she stammered. “He had no problem staying fit all his life. Even up until the two of you got married.”

The comment hit Jess like a jolt, and she stiffened slightly. Her mind raced, though she quickly composed herself. That was exactly when it had started, their marriage, and her deliberate, calculated effort to make Benny the man he was today. But Dana couldn’t know that.

“I’ve no idea, really,” Jess lied smoothly. “Maybe it’s just stress? Or bad habits catching up to him?”

Emily, now fully invested in the conversation, chimed in. “Maybe you should try putting him on a diet. That might work.”

The suggestion was so absurd that Jess almost laughed out loud. The idea of Benny dieting, of him resisting the constant cravings she’d nurtured, was laughable. Even if she wanted to, Jess doubted he’d make it more than a day before giving in to his impulses.

“I’m not sure that would work,” Jess said, her voice soft but truthful. “I mean, it’s not just my meals he eats. I know he sneaks food. And he has a habit of stopping by drive-thrus on his way home from work. He can’t seem to help himself. It’s probably what’s made him so...” She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

“So fat,” Emily finished bluntly, her tone a mix of fascination and disapproval. Dana gave Emily a sharp look, as if ‘fat’ were a bad word.

Jess shrugged, feigning helplessness, conveniently leaving out all the encouragement-led stuffings she’d guide him through or the purposely fattening foods she’d make for him.

“Maybe if you said something, he’d make a change?” she offered sweetly, her gaze flicking to Dana.

Dana’s lips pursed, her brow furrowed in thought. Jess could see the wheels turning in her mind, the frustration and concern bubbling just beneath the surface.

“Maybe,” Dana said finally, though her tone was uncertain. She nodded again, almost absentmindedly, before turning away to check on the turkey.

As Dana busied herself, Jess returned to her pie, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. The seeds had been planted, and she couldn’t wait to see how they’d bloom.

Chapter 4

The backyard stretched out behind Benny’s parents’ house, a patch of freshly raked grass framed by skeletal trees, their bare branches swaying gently in the crisp November air. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the yard, and the chatter of his family filled the air as they bounded around, energized by the prospect of a quick game of family football before dinner.

Benny stood off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the makeshift field. His father and brother were tossing the football back and forth, the ease of their movements a stark contrast to Benny’s own growing sense of dread. He already felt heavy and sluggish, weighed down not just by the pounds he carried but by the unspoken pressure to participate.

“Come on, Benny!” his dad called, waving him over. His tone was cheerful, but there was a hint of sternness behind it that Benny couldn’t ignore.

With a deep breath, Benny trudged forward, the effort of moving his bulk through the cool air making him feel every bit as slow as he looked. His sneakers sank slightly into the soft grass as he joined the group. Ethan gave him a once-over, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Ready to show off those moves, big guy?” Ethan teased, spinning the ball in his hands.

Benny forced a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I wouldn’t hold your breath.” His voice was light, but his cheeks flushed. His current form was far removed from the athleticism of his high school football years.

Ethan grinned, tossing the ball to their dad. “Alright, let’s start already!” he called out.

Their dad, still fit and spry despite his age, clapped Benny on the shoulder before jogging to his position. Benny envied the ease with which he moved, his lean frame a sharp reminder of the discipline he had instilled in his sons growing up. Back then, their dad had emphasized the importance of staying fit, leading by example with his early morning jogs and weekend hikes. Now, standing next to his father, Benny felt like a caricature of his former self.

“Alright, teams,” Ethan declared, pointing between them. “Me, Dad, and Dylan”—he motioned to his teenage son, who was eagerly bouncing on his toes—“versus Benny, Uncle Dave, and Aiden.”

Benny glanced at his nephew Aiden, the six-year-old who was busy pulling at a thread on his glove, and Uncle Dave, a broad-shouldered man in his sixties whose knees creaked audibly every time he bent down. Great, Benny thought.

The game started lightheartedly enough, with Dylan streaking down the field to catch a perfect spiral from Ethan. Benny clapped half-heartedly, already feeling winded from the effort of simply walking to his spot on the makeshift field.

“Come on, Benny, move your feet!” Ethan shouted after him, laughing.

Benny forced a jog, his movements more of a slow shuffle as he tried to keep up. The weight of his body felt heavier with every step, his joints protesting the sudden exertion. His thighs rubbed together uncomfortably, and he could feel his shirt clinging to his back, damp with sweat despite the chill in the air.

The first few minutes were tolerable, but it wasn’t long before Benny was panting, his breaths coming in shallow bursts. His chest heaved, and he could feel the cold air burning his lungs as he tried to push himself just a little more.

“You okay, Uncle Benny?” Dylan called, his voice dripping with teenage sarcasm as he jogged past with the ball.

Benny waved him off, trying to muster a grin. “Yeah... yeah... I’m good.” He wasn’t.

Ethan jogged over to him, his face flushed but not winded. “Man, you’re barely moving out here,” he said. “What’ve you been eating, lead bricks?”

“Shut up.” Benny bristled but kept his tone light. “I’m just saving my energy for the big plays.” The words came out between gasps, and he hated the way they sounded—weak, defensive.

Ethan shook his head, his smirk softening as a bit of concern tinged his voice. “Seriously, though. You’ve, uh... packed on a few, haven’t you?”

“Just a few,” Benny shot back, trying to sound casual. “You know how it is.”

His dad chimed in from the sideline, his voice calm but pointed. “You should think about getting back into some kind of routine, Benny. You were always such a strong kid. It’d be good for you.”

Benny felt his face heat, the words landing heavier than he’d expected. Of course, his dad had noticed. How could he not? The old man was in better shape than he was, and the comparison stung more than Benny cared to admit.

“I’ll get around to it,” Benny said, waving a hand as if brushing the suggestion aside. But the truth was, he didn’t even know where to start, or if he could.

Another play began, and Benny found himself stationed near the line of scrimmage. When the ball was snapped, Dylan darted past him with ease, leaving Benny stumbling as he tried, and failed, to block him. The effort left him wheezing, and he doubled over, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“Benny, you alright?” Uncle Dave asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Benny nodded, though he couldn’t muster the breath to reply. He felt lightheaded, the edges of his vision swimming slightly.

Just as he straightened, Dylan sent the football sailing through the air in his direction. Benny raised his arm lazily, the movement sluggish and uncoordinated. The ball sailed past him, bouncing harmlessly on the grass. He didn’t bother chasing it.

His dad jogged over, picking up the ball. As he straightened, he paused next to Benny, his expression softening into something that looked almost like pity.

“Why don’t you go inside, son?” his dad said quietly, patting Benny on the shoulder.

The words bothered him, and Benny felt a flash of indignation. Part of him wanted to refuse, to prove that he could keep going. But the other part of him—the tired, aching, out-of-breath part—wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the nearest chair and never get up.

Before he could respond, the sound of his cousin’s voice carried across the yard. “Dinner’s about ready!” she called from the back door. “Come wash up!”

Benny couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “Guess that’s my cue,” he said, forcing a grin as he lumbered toward the house.

As he crossed the yard, his legs heavy and his breath still uneven, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d become a stranger in his own body. Once, he’d been the athletic kid who could outrun anyone. Now, he was... this.

But dinner awaited, and with it, a brief respite from the judgment and the expectations.

Chapter 5

The dining room glowed with the warm light of the chandelier overhead, its soft, golden hue making the spread of food laid out on the long table even more inviting. Steam wafted from the dishes, carrying the comforting scents of roasted turkey, buttery rolls, rich gravy, and candied yams. It was Thanksgiving dinner in its full glory, a banquet so sumptuous that Jess felt a small pang of excitement flutter in her chest. Her eyes lingered on Benny sitting beside her, anxious to have him start on filling his belly.

She turned her attention back to Dana, who was seated across the table, her hands clasped tightly together as she rambled on about how thankful she was for family and the chance to all be gathered together this year. Dana’s voice had that overly earnest lilt to it, the kind Jess associated with someone who liked being the center of attention just a little too much. Jess could see the other family members nodding politely, their smiles a touch strained. Even Ethan, usually quick to quip, was uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes darting now and then toward the food. Jess could tell they were all getting restless, everyone hungry and ready to dive into the spread laid out for them.

The scrape of a chair against the floor pulled Jess’s gaze to Benny. He shifted slightly, leaning back in his seat as if the mere act of sitting up straight was taxing. The movement caused his sweater, already stretched snug over his middle, to ride up just slightly. I wonder if his sweater will still cover his belly by the end of the night, she thought. She fought the smile threatening to tug at her lips, instead reaching for her water glass to mask her expression.

Finally, Dana wrapped up her monologue, clasping her hands together with a little flourish. “And that’s what I’m thankful for,” she said, beaming.

There was a polite smattering of nods and smiles from around the table before Benny’s dad, John, cleared his throat. “Alright, let’s eat!”

The collective relief around the table was palpable. John took charge of the turkey, cutting thick slices for everyone as the other dishes were passed around. Bowls of steaming, fragrant foods made their rounds, along with baskets of warm dinner rolls and small dishes of cranberry sauce. The clink of serving spoons and the murmur of conversation filled the room as everyone began to load their plates.

Jess kept a close eye on Benny as he piled food onto his plate with a kind of quiet determination. A generous scoop of mac and cheese covered one corner, creamy and golden with a crispy breadcrumb topping. Beside it went a mound of mashed potatoes, which he promptly drowned in gravy, the rich brown liquid pooling onto the edges of his plate. He added stuffing next, then a heap of green bean casserole topped with crispy fried onions. By the time John slid a slice of turkey onto his plate, there was barely any room left.

Jess smiled to herself, pleased to see him filling his plate so enthusiastically. She hadn’t even needed to encourage him, his appetite was guiding him on its own. She took her time selecting her own food, keeping her portions modest, though her mind never strayed far from Benny.

The first few minutes of dinner passed with the usual hum of chatter and clinking cutlery. Jess participated lightly in the conversation, mostly nodding along as Ethan regaled everyone with a story about one of Dylan’s soccer games. Benny, on the other hand, barely said a word. He was focused entirely on his plate, answering questions with short, distracted responses when directly addressed. Jess noted the way his fork moved almost mechanically, shoveling bite after bite into his mouth.

Her gaze lingered on him as he finished off his first plate and leaned back slightly, his stomach visibly pushing against the fabric of his sweater. He didn’t pause for long before reaching for the serving dishes again, his appetite driving him back for seconds. Jess felt a thrill of satisfaction as he began to refill his plate, scooping up more mounds of savory, filling dishes. She was mentally playing a little game with herself, trying to guess how much he would eat tonight. Three plates were a given, she figured, but the real question was whether he’d let himself hit four.

As Benny began his second serving, Jess took a moment to savor her own food. The mashed potatoes were creamy and rich, the perfect complement to the savory gravy. She picked at her stuffing, her mind still half-focused on Benny. He ate with the same gusto as before, barely pausing between bites. At one point, he reached for a dinner roll from the basket in front of him, using it to sop up a bit of gravy on his plate. Jess’s middle swelled with a quiet arousal as she watched him, pleased to see him enjoying himself so much.

With his next bite, she heard the faintest sound escape him, a soft moan of satisfaction that made her bite her lip. He layered some green bean casserole with a bit of stuffing on his fork, recreating the same combination a few more times before his plate was empty again.

This time, he paused, almost as if coming to, his fork hovering over the plate as if he were debating his next move. Jess could practically see the wheels turning in his mind, the internal struggle between his appetite and his desire to avoid drawing too much attention.

Jess decided to give him a little nudge. She reached for the dish of candied yams, scooping a small portion onto her plate. “Mmm, baby, these are so good,” she said, taking a bite and making a small sound of appreciation. “Make sure you try some.”

As expected, Benny reached for the serving spoon, scooping a generous helping onto his plate. He didn’t stop there, though. He added another dollop of each of his favorites, along with the thickest slice of ham from the platter, filling his plate up once again.

She turned back to her own food, engaging briefly in the conversation as she watched Benny out of the corner of her eye. He dug into his third plate with as much enthusiasm as the first two, oblivious to the occasional glances Dana sent his way. Jess noticed every one of them and silently willed her to speak up, to say something, anything.

When Dana stayed quiet, Jess made up her mind. If no one else was going to comment, she would make sure Benny kept eating until they did.

By now, the table, once a pristine display of abundance, was now scattered with the generous remnants of indulgence. Plates were smeared with sauces, and bowls sat half-emptied of their contents. Most of the family had slowed down, now just picking at what remained on their plates as they chatted.

Jess turned her attention to Benny as he leaned back in his chair with a huff. He placed a hand on his stomach, his fingers absently tracing the curve of his sweater-covered belly as if testing its limits. Jess smirked to herself. She could always tell how full Benny was just by looking at him.

Right now, he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his hand pressing against his midsection. That meant his belly was getting there, stuffed enough to make sitting upright a little awkward, but he wasn’t finished yet. His face wasn’t red, and he wasn’t panting softly like he did when he was truly at his limit. No, there was still room for more.

Jess’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she slid her hand under the table, resting it on his thigh. His leg tensed slightly beneath her touch, but when he looked at her, she gave him a reassuring smile. Leaning in close, she let her voice drop to a tone meant just for him.

“Did you get enough mac and cheese? And stuffing too—I know that’s your favorite,” she murmured, her fingers giving his thigh a gentle squeeze.

Benny looked at her, his eyes clouded with a bit of uncertainty. She held his gaze, letting her expression convey what words couldn’t. Her look was patient but insistent, a soft nudge disguised as concern.

“I could probably have some more,” he said after a pause, his voice low.

“Sure,” Jess replied casually, as if the idea hadn’t originated entirely from her. She withdrew her hand, taking a sip of her wine as Benny dutifully reached for the serving spoon.

He added another helping of mac and cheese to his plate, the gooey pasta firmer now as it landed in a heap. Next came the stuffing, its herby aroma wafting across the table as he scooped a generous portion onto his plate. He hesitated for a moment before taking a smaller spoonful of mashed potatoes, this time skipping the gravy. The portions were more modest than his earlier plates, but still heavy in comparison to a typical serving.

Benny’s fork moved steadily, shoveling bite after bite into his mouth. Jess noticed the way his shoulders seemed to relax, his earlier hesitance melting away as the food on his plate captured his full attention. She leaned back in her chair, watching him from the corner of her eye as she pretended to engage in a conversation with Emily about Aiden’s first school play.

When Benny reached the halfway point of his fourth plate, Jess decided to push her luck. She grabbed the serving spoon from the stuffing dish, scooping up an additional helping. Without a word, she leaned over and added it to Benny’s plate, arranging it neatly next to the remaining mac and cheese.

Across the table, Jess caught Dana’s eyes on her. The older woman’s expression was unreadable, but Jess didn’t miss the way her gaze darted between Benny’s plate and Jess’s movements. Jess gave her a sweet smile, hoping it would hide the smirk she felt tugging at her lips as she took another sip from her glass.

Dana didn’t say anything, but Jess felt a faint thrill at the unspoken tension. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs as she turned her attention to the conversation on her left. John was talking about his plans to deep-fry the turkey next year, and Ethan was teasing him about nearly setting the garage on fire the last time he tried it. Jess chimed in with a laugh, letting herself appear perfectly composed, even as she kept one eye on Benny. He was being so good and greedy, stuffing himself in front of everyone. He had eaten more than anyone else by far, a fact that stirred a wave of desire in her.

Most of the family had finished eating, their plates pushed aside as they sipped wine or picked at the last remnants of their meals. But Benny was still eating, and no one had said a thing. Not yet.

Chapter 6

Benny sat at the long, polished dining table, staring down at his fourth plate. It was half-finished, the stuffing, mac and cheese, and mashed potatoes staring back at him.

He shoveled another forkful of stuffing into his mouth, barely tasting the rich blend of herbs and buttery bread anymore. His stomach groaned in protest, reminding him of how much he’d already packed into it. Still, he chewed mechanically, swallowing thickly and moving on to the next bite.

Last one. Last plate, he told himself. But then, he’d made that same promise after the second plate. And again after the third. He’d told himself he would stop at two plates, maybe three if others had three.

He glanced around the table, trying to gauge if anyone was paying attention to him. Most of his family seemed distracted, their plates pushed aside or nearly empty as they sipped wine and chatted about the latest family gossip. Still, Benny felt the weight of their eyes on him with every bite, especially his mother’s.

He didn’t need to look at her to know she was watching. He could feel her disapproval radiating from across the table, sharp and unrelenting. It made his skin prickle, and yet... he kept eating.

The food was just too good to pass up. All the rich, comforting flavors seemed to call to him, beckoning him back for more even as his body protested. And wasn’t that what Thanksgiving was about? Eating too much, indulging in the once-a-year feast, letting yourself go a little?

It was easier to swallow that excuse than the idea that he was eating this much because he simply couldn’t resist. Because the food was irresistible. Because the way Jess had looked at him earlier, her eyes sparkling, had made it impossible to stop. Because stuffing himself at the behest of his wife felt good in more ways than one. He ignored the stir in his pants as the brief image of Jess feeding him a turkey leg flashed across his mind.

Benny shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His pants were feeling tight now, mostly from the food, and his stomach pressed hard against his waistband, the button digging into his skin. He wanted to undo it, to give himself some relief, but the thought of doing so here, in front of his entire family, was mortifying.

He could feel the fabric straining around his thighs, the seams digging into his hips. It had been a long time since he’d eaten this much in anything other than sweatpants or boxers. Most of his stuffings happened at home, in the privacy of their living room or bedroom, with Jess bringing him extra servings and coaxing him to finish every last bite. There, he didn’t have to worry about how he looked, or how full he felt, or whether anyone else noticed how much he was eating.

Here, everything felt magnified. The pressure of his clothes, the weight of his family’s gazes, the sound of his own labored breathing, all of it combined to make him acutely aware of how far he was pushing himself.

But despite the discomfort, he didn’t stop. He finished the last bite of stuffing on his plate, forcing it down with a gulp of wine. The tartness of the drink cut through the heaviness in his mouth, but it didn’t do anything to ease the tightness in his stomach.

He leaned back slightly, his hands immediately dropping to his waistband. Tugging at it discreetly, he tried to create some space, but the fabric didn’t budge. He sighed quietly, resisting the urge to rub his belly, even though he desperately wanted to.

Jess’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Here, honey,” she said, reaching for the serving platter. Before Benny could react, she placed another slice of turkey on his plate, the meat glistening under the warm lights of the room.

Benny blinked, confused. Jess served his plates all the time, but she’d never done it in front of others before. His eyes darted to her face, searching for some kind of explanation, but she only smiled at him as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

As she reached for the gravy boat, his mother’s voice cut through the chatter. “I think Benny’s had enough,” she said, her tone sharp and cutting.

The table fell silent. Forks froze mid-air, and heads turned toward Dana, then toward Benny and Jess. Benny’s face burned as the weight of everyone’s stares settled on him.

His mother’s eyes were locked on Jess, her expression a mix of concern and barely veiled judgment. “Don’t you think, Jess?” she added, her words loaded with implication.

Benny swallowed hard, wishing he could disappear into the floor. He looked to Jess, silently begging her to put the gravy boat down and let this moment pass.

But Jess didn’t budge. She turned to him instead, her voice warm and gentle, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You’re still hungry though, aren’t you, honey?”

Benny froze, his mind racing. He wasn’t hungry, not in the slightest. His stomach was so full he wasn’t sure he could even leave the table, and the thought of taking another bite made him want to groan. But then Jess’s hand slid under the table, her fingers brushing against his thigh before traveling upward.

His breath stopped as her hand came to rest on his crotch, pressing just enough to make his head spin. He looked at her, his eyes wide, and saw the glint in her eye, a look he’d come to recognize all too well.

To anyone else, she might’ve looked innocent, questioning. But Benny knew better.

He glanced back at his mother, then at his wife, his heart pounding in his chest. He only had a moment to choose, between saving face and avoiding judgement, or eating more and reaping a reward from Jess later. Say no, his brain screamed at him. Of course you say no. Everyone’s watching!

But instead, he nodded.
“Yeah,” he muttered, avoiding his mother’s gaze. “I’m...still hungry.”

Jess beamed, triumphant. She poured gravy onto his turkey, then reached for the other dishes, adding more of each of them onto his plate. Benny stared down at the heaping mound of food, his stomach twisting with a mix of dread and anticipation.

He picked up his fork and started eating, each bite a struggle against the fullness in his gut. The chatter around the table eventually resumed, but Benny could still feel the occasional glance in his direction. His mother’s disapproval lingered like a shadow over the meal, making every chew feel heavier.

By the time he finished his fifth plate, his breath was coming in shallow, labored puffs. His clothes felt impossibly tight, his body heavy and sluggish. But then Jess leaned in close, her breath warm against his ear.

“You’ve no idea how wet you’ve made me,” she whispered, her voice low and throaty.

Benny’s heart skipped a beat, a rush of heat flooding through him despite the oppressive weight in his stomach. He glanced at her, catching the sly curve of her lips, and felt a flicker of something he couldn’t quite name—shame, desire, pride, maybe all three at once.

Chapter 7

Jess leaned against the kitchen counter, her lips quirking into a smile as she carved a small slice of pumpkin pie from the nearly untouched dessert spread. She pressed the edge of the knife firmly, savoring the clean cut of the blade through the soft filling and crumbly crust. The pie’s earthy, spiced scent filled her senses, a reminder of just why it was Benny’s favorite. As much as she wanted to serve him the pie in its entirety, she didn't want to draw too much more attention to him after the small spectacle earlier.

She was proud of how well he did, taking on five plates even in front of judging eyes. A tingle shivered through her as she realized how ruined he was, how even the threat of embarrassment wouldn’t keep him from stuffing himself silly, the joy of which was magnified by the fact that he chose to obey her over his own mother.

She transferred the delicate slice onto a dessert plate, then reached for the tub of cool whip nearby. But before she could scoop a dollop onto the pie, a sharp voice broke her reverie.

“I hope that’s not for Benny,” Dana’s voice was curt and clipped, cutting through Jess’s thoughts like a cold gust of wind.

Jess turned, her expression softening into an automatic smile. Dana stood there, arms crossed, her disapproving gaze flitting from Jess’s face to the plate. She was a small woman, yet somehow her presence filled the space with authority.

“It’s Thanksgiving,” Jess said smoothly, her voice light with a practiced ease. She shrugged as if the issue were trivial. “It’d be a shame if he didn’t have just a little bit of pie.”

Dana’s lips pressed into a thin line. Without a word, she stepped forward and took the knife from Jess’s hand. Jess watched, outwardly demure but inwardly bristling, as Dana halved the already modest slice. The smaller piece teetered on the edge of the plate before Dana steadied it with a pointed motion.

“There,” Dana said, handing the plate back to Jess. She snapped the lid back onto the Cool Whip container with a firm click and whisked it off the counter, tucking it under her arm and leaving the pie undressed.

Jess’s smile didn’t falter. “Thank you,” she said sweetly, letting a note of amusement thread her tone. Inside, she was buzzing. Dana might think she’d won a small victory, but Jess knew better. What she had planned for later made this little exchange inconsequential.

Balancing the plate, Jess walked into the living room where Benny lounged on the couch, surrounded by family. His overstuffed belly strained against the threads of his sweater, the taut fabric rising and falling as he nursed his fullness. A football game flickered on the TV, but Benny’s glazed-over expression made it clear his focus was elsewhere, likely on how uncomfortably tight his belly had become.

When Jess handed him the plate, his brows lifted in surprise, a bit of relief at seeing such a small slice, then furrowed skeptically. He glanced at the pie, then back at her, as if asking, What’s the catch?

Jess shrugged casually, feigning innocence. “It’s just a little,” she said softly. “You should take it easy after today.”

Benny hesitated, but eventually reached for the fork. Jess settled beside him, watching as he took a small bite. He might think this was the end of it for the night, but she had other plans.

Hours later, the house had fallen silent, everyone in bed for the night. The faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath her bare feet were the only sounds as Jess moved through the darkened kitchen in her pajamas. The moonlight streaming through the window cast a faint glow over the countertops, but Jess didn’t bother turning on the lights.

She opened the fridge cautiously, the cool air brushing against her as she reached for her loot. The foil-covered pie tin came first, its weight promising, and she uncovered it to find half of it still remaining. She pulled out a half-empty gallon of milk to go along with it. Before she could gently guide the fridge door shut, her eyes caught sight of a carton of heavy whipping cream sitting on the shelf, the cool lights shining down on it as if begging her to pick it up. A wicked smile curved her lips as she grabbed it as well.

Jess poured the full pint of heavy cream into a large glass, then filled it the rest of the way with milk. The liquid swirled together, rich and thick, and she felt a flutter of excitement as she capped the carton, tossing it in the trash and returning the milk to the fridge. Her pulse quickened as she lifted the pie, a fork tucked between her fingers.

She moved quietly through the house, her footsteps careful and deliberate on the stairs, trying her best not to spill the full contents of the glass. It felt illicit, like sneaking snacks as a child, but the stakes were so much higher now. She could only imagine the upset her mother-in-law would have if she were caught.

When she reached Benny’s childhood bedroom, he was still asleep, his soft snores a rhythmic backdrop to the quiet room. Jess set the pie and “milk” on the nightstand, then went back to close the door, making sure it was locked. She returned to the bed, her eyes roaming over Benny. He lay sprawled on his back, his belly prominently rounded under the thin sheet. The sight sent a thrill through her, a flush rising to her cheeks.

Carefully, she peeled back the sheet, exposing him. His shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of his skin, still full from the day’s feasting. Jess bit her lip, her heart pounding with anticipation. She leaned down, her hand gently shaking Benny awake.

Chapter 8

A gentle nudge pulled Benny from the depths of sleep. He shifted softly, rolling onto his side, trying to escape the disturbance. But then it came again, a soft hand on his shoulder, shaking him with insistent sweetness.

“Benny,” Jess whispered, her voice soft and coaxing. “Wake up, baby.”

Benny blinked groggily, cracking his eyes open. The room was dim, the faint glow of the moon barely filtering through the curtains. Jess’s face was close to his, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbled, his eyes drooping closed.

Jess giggled, a mischievous sound that made his stomach twist. “You didn’t have a proper dessert,” she whispered. “That’s what’s wrong.”

Before he could respond, Jess reached for the lamp on the nightstand, clicking it on. A soft, golden light filled the room, bathing them in its warmth. Benny squinted, adjusting to the brightness, but as his vision cleared, he caught sight of the pie tin and the glass of milk beside it. A faint groan escaped him.

“Jess...” he started, his voice thick with sleep.
But she was already reaching for the pie, her smile wide and full of excitement. “Come on,” she coaxed, sliding the tin closer. “It’s just a little more.”

Benny sat up slightly, his back pressing against the headboard. His belly shifted with the movement, a dull ache radiating from its fullness. He couldn’t fathom eating more, but the look on Jess’s face, the glint in her eye, the way her lips curled as if she were savoring the moment, made resistance futile. She handed him the pie, her fingers brushing his as she did.

Benny took the fork, his hesitation apparent, but the first bite of pie was already on its way to his mouth. The spices hit his tongue immediately, the richness of the filling blending with the buttery crust. Despite his earlier resolve, his body responded automatically, chewing and swallowing before he could stop himself.

“Perfect,” Jess murmured, her words sending a shiver through him. She tucked her legs beneath her, sitting close, her hand resting lightly on his belly.

Benny hesitated only briefly before taking another bite, his eyes flickering between the pie and Jess’s expectant gaze. He felt the weight of her attention, the way her lips curved into a small, knowing smile, her eyes brimming with pride.

Benny swallowed and scooped another forkful, this one larger than the last. A bit of the crust crumbled and tumbled down his belly. Jess caught it and brought it to his mouth, making sure he consumed even the smallest bit. Benny accepted it, then filled his mouth again, the spiced sweetness melting on his tongue. Despite the lingering fullness from earlier, he savored it, letting the flavor distract him from the tightness of his belly. Jess leaned in closer, her presence warm next to him.

“I wish you could’ve seen yourself today,” she said, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “The way you ate in front of everyone. Not even your mom’s disapproval could stop you. You just kept going, plate after plate.”

Benny groaned softly, his fork pausing midair. “Jess, don’t—”

She cut him off with a laugh that was equal parts gentle and knowing, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm. “Don’t what?” she asked, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “Don’t tell you how fat you’ve gotten? How everyone was staring at you?” Her hand slid down to rest on his belly, her touch deliberate, her palm pressing lightly against its swollen curve.

“They couldn’t believe how much you’ve changed, Benny. You’re huge now,” she murmured, her fingers teasingly tracing the tight fabric of his shirt, which clung to every rounded contour of his gut.

Her words should have embarrassed him, and they did, but not in the way they should have. His body responded despite the pit of humiliation settling in his stomach, as it always did whenever she said things like that. Heat coursed through him, pooling in his core. He kept eating, bite after bite, Jess’s words spurring him on, her eyes alight with desire.

“God, Benny,” Jess continued, her voice thick with arousal. “Do you even realize how stuffed you looked, sitting there in that creaking dining chair? How red your face got, how tight your sweater was? Everyone was staring, wondering how much more you could take.”

Benny’s hand trembled slightly as he brought another forkful to his lips. The pie was disappearing faster now, each bite a combination of indulgence and defiance. The room felt warm, stifling almost, as though the air itself was thick with Jess’s approval and his own overwhelming fullness.

“You don’t even care who sees you anymore, do you? You just keep eating, like the greedy thing you are.”

The words sent a shiver through him, a mix of shame and arousal. He tried to pace himself, but the pie was too tempting, Jess’s words too compelling. I am greedy, he thought. So fucking greedy. Forkful after forkful disappeared, the tin growing emptier as his belly grew tighter. His breathing became labored, each inhale shallow as his gut pushed outward, heavy and full.

Jess was watching him intently, her expression a mixture of arousal and hunger. The tin was nearly empty now, only a few crumbs clinging to its edges. Benny groaned, his head falling back briefly before he forced himself to finish. The final bite felt monumental, the sweetness almost cloying as he swallowed it down. He let the fork drop onto the empty tin, his chest rising and falling heavily.

Jess reached for the glass of milk on the nightstand, its sides fogged from the chill, and handed it to Benny with a small, impatient smile. He stared at it, his hand trembling slightly as he took it from her. The glass was nearly full, and he knew without a word that she expected him to finish every last drop.

He raised it to his lips, the cold liquid rushing into his mouth. It wasn’t just milk. Something thicker, richer, coated his tongue. Heavy cream. The realization sent a flush of heat straight through him, the decadence of it too much to resist.

A moan escaped him, muffled by the glass. God, I’m such a fat fuck, he thought. His free hand moved instinctively to his belly, cradling its taut, overstuffed curve as he chugged the thick, heavy drink. The ache in his gut only grew stronger, but so did the strange, shameful arousal that her words always stirred.

“Mmmf you love it, don’t you?” Jess murmured, her hand sliding over his swollen stomach as her body pressed into his side. “Drink it all. I know you want to be so completely full for me. Too full to move.”

He tilted the glass higher, the weight of the cream sinking deeper into him with every gulp. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, his fingers digging into the tight expanse of his belly as the liquid pushed him closer to his limit. Finally, with one last, desperate swallow, he drained the glass and let it drop into his lap.

A long, low burp rumbled out of him, unbidden and shameless. Jess laughed softly, her hand rubbing circles over his stuffed belly. “There’s my greedy boy,” she whispered, and leant down to kiss his taut belly. Benny groaned, his head falling back against the headboard, utterly overwhelmed and utterly hers.

“I’m so full,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and raw, every inch of him aching with fullness.

Jess leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. “You’re stuffed,” she whispered, her voice dripping with desire as her hand pressed gently against the firm, rounded swell of his gut, feeling the firmness beneath.

Her words sent a jolt through him, his desire rising despite the ache and the shame. Jess’s fingers slid lower, hooking into the waistband of his boxers, her eyes alight with intent.

“Jess,” Benny said, his voice low with warning. “We’re at my parents’ house.”

Jess tilted her head and scoffed, her expression playful. “We’re not sixteen,” she teased. “We’re married.” She leaned in, her lips brushing his jaw. “And I want you.”

Benny couldn’t argue, his arousal undeniable. He watched as Jess stripped naked in front of him, before helping him out of his tight shirt and boxers, tossing them onto the floor. She was gentle as she straddled him, her hands trailing over his chest and stomach as she settled onto his lap, careful not to disturb his overstuffed belly too much.

He let his hands fall to her thighs, caressing them as she slid onto him, her movements fluid and confident, each one sending a ripple through his soft body. Benny’s thoughts spiraled. How had he let this happen? How had he let himself get so big, so out of control, that even his family couldn’t ignore it? The stares, the comments, they’d been relentless. Yet somehow, through all the embarrassment, he’d wanted more. He always wanted more.

Jess’s voice pulled him back, her words punctuated by soft moans. “You’re mine,” she said, her hands squeezing his fattened chest. “All mine. My greedy, gluttonous husband.”

Her words stoked the fire building inside him. Benny gripped her waist, his hands pressing into the softness of her skin as she moved faster. He marveled at her. Her body was still lean, her curves subtle and graceful, while he—he had let himself go entirely.

The memory of his family’s judgment flashed through his mind: the way his brother had laughed, his mother’s pursed lips, his dad’s quiet disapproval. It had stung, but in this moment it thrilled him. He was so fat now that they had to say something. That’s how far his habits had taken him.

The thought sent a jolt of arousal through him, and he tightened his grip on Jess’s waist. “Jess,” he gasped, his voice a warning.

She looked down at him, her expression wild and determined. She moved faster, her own climax building as she reached for his chest again, her nails digging into the soft flesh.

Benny couldn’t hold back. The tension snapped, and he groaned deeply as he came, his body trembling beneath her. Jess cried out above him, her movements slowing as she reached her own release.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing. Jess leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his temple before resting her forehead against his.

Benny closed his eyes, his thoughts swirling. He didn’t know how he’d gotten here, but as long as Jess wanted him this way, he couldn’t imagine being anything else.

Chapter 9

Jess felt radiant as she descended the stairs, the faint hum of conversation drifting from somewhere in the house. She was dressed and freshly showered, her hair still slightly damp but neatly combed, and the warm glow of satisfaction from the night before lingered in her chest. Last night had been everything she’d wanted: indulgence, intimacy, and the thrill of Benny’s complete surrender.

The kitchen smelled faintly of coffee, and Jess practically waltzed in, ready to plan the perfect heavy breakfast for Benny before they hit the road. She slowed her steps, though, when she saw Dana standing in front of the open refrigerator, her hands rifling through its contents.

“Good morning,” Jess said, her voice bright.

Dana sighed, straightening her back and closing the fridge. “Good morning,” she replied with a curt nod. Her expression was tight, her movements brisk, as though she was already annoyed by some unseen problem.

Before Jess could say more, Aiden bounded into the kitchen, his energy almost startling in the otherwise calm morning. “Grandma, I’m hungry!” he announced, tugging on Dana’s sleeve.

Jess smiled at the boy’s enthusiasm and saw her opening. “I can help you make breakfast, if you want,” she offered cheerfully, stepping closer.

Dana gave her a pointed look, her lips pressed into a polite but firm line. “No need,” she said, her tone clipped. “I have some fruit prepped.”

Jess felt her shoulders drop ever so slightly, the brightness in her mood dimming for a moment. Fruit? That wasn’t the breakfast she’d envisioned for Benny. She’d imagined a heavy, greasy spread; pancakes dripping with syrup, bacon crisped to perfection, maybe even a heaping omelet. Something hearty to fill him up for the drive home, and keep the indulgence of yesterday going.

But she quickly rallied. Drive-thru it is, she thought. They could always stop by a fast food place on the way back. A couple of breakfast sandwiches, maybe hash browns. The thought soothed her disappointment.

Dana moved to the oven, peeking inside for a brief moment before closing it with a sharp click. Her hands went to her hips, her gaze sweeping over the kitchen with visible frustration.

“Do you know what happened to the pumpkin pie?” she asked, looking at Jess. “I could’ve sworn I put the leftovers in the fridge. John always likes a slice for breakfast the next day.”

Jess froze for a beat, her mind flashing to last night—the feel of the cool tin in her hands, the sight of Benny sleepily devouring every crumb. Her stomach gave a familiar flutter, a faint flicker of arousal passing through her as the memory unfolded in vivid detail.

She suppressed a smile, willing her expression to remain neutral. “No clue,” she said casually, shrugging as if the question didn’t matter much to her.

Dana frowned, clearly unconvinced, and went back to searching the kitchen, muttering something under her breath about wastefulness. Jess turned away, hiding the amusement threatening to break through her composed demeanor.

Her gaze drifted out the window as she leaned against the counter, her thoughts wandering back to Benny upstairs. He’d wake soon, groggy and still full from last night. She couldn’t wait to see the way his shirt stretched over his belly during the drive home, the snug waistband of his sweatpants cutting into his softness.

Dana might not approve, but Jess didn’t care. Benny was hers to feed, to encourage, to adore. And as far as Jess was concerned, no one—not even Benny himself—could stop her from giving him exactly what he needed.