BHM Private Practice

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Sep 1, 2019
I really need to learn not to read this story during lunch on a weekday. Well done on making the descriptions so compelling!

Aw, come on Tad! You only live once, might as well read while your eyeballs are working!

And thank you. :)


Sep 1, 2019
Given how bad my eyes are your point is a good one. But actually yes it was my brain that was so distracted. So wonderfully, wonderfully, distracted!

I will put disclaimers above my posts from now on, * TAD! I KNOW YOU’RE ON YOUR LUNCH BREAK AT WORK RIGHT NOW. DON’T YOU DO IT! * but of course, I hope you’ll ignore it.


Sep 1, 2019
- 24 -


You know, one of the surprising benefits of gaining weight and getting fat is that psychologically, certain anxieties about my appearance disappeared. I know I’m fat, and everyone else knows I’m fat, so there’s no point in trying to hide the obvious. Most of my frustrating insecurities as a young twenty-something-year-old woman came from stupid, insignificant “flaws” that I thought I needed to hide. During those times, on my worst days I tried my hardest to convince others that I was a certain level of skinny. I wanted to show everyone how I was worthy of being loved, just like the bikini models on the magazine covers. Ribs were cute, or so I thought, so I did what I could to make sure that people knew mine were visible. Eating a big dinner was followed by hiding behind a cardigan. Bra fat caused by an over-indulgent month could agitate me and ruin my day completely. During college, a flat stomach hidden behind a few nights of drinking with my crew kept me away from summer pool parties and cute crop tops until I knew my body looked normal again. Most of my insecurities died when Zach came into my life, but some still quietly lingered.

Now, I feel like a new woman, inside and out. I welcome the bra fat, it’s inevitable. These days, that fat is there even without my bra. A full belly? Ah, yes. The full belly. I’ve had one more times than not here lately. And when it’s there, it’s hard to miss. I don’t even try to hide it anymore, there’s no point. And if Zach is around, I make sure he gets an eyeful.

If I’m being completely honest with myself, I like fat Brooke much better than skinny Brooke. Fat Brooke has curves that skinny Brooke never knew possible. Fat Brooke is more confident, more outgoing, and more satisfied in all areas of her life. Who would have thought? It makes me think back to my friend from grad school, Vanessa, and how she had those voluptuous Latina curves that men seem to go wild over. By the time we graduated, she was full-figured and full-faced and weighing in the 250s. Even then, she still had hot, sophisticated men waiting on her hand and foot, worshiping the ground she walked on. When we’d go out, Vanessa would order loaded cheese fries and a milk shake, and I’d watch her suck that thing dry in front of the hottest of men, and without an ounce of shame to her face. She was outgoing and lighthearted, and she did her best to push me out if my comfort zone while out in public. She was electric. And I know that confidence now. I feel it, and I own it. Especially knowing what my fuller body does to Zach.

Zach has eaten out of the palm of my hand like a sick puppy dog needing extra nourishment, and I love it. I get turned on by his reaction to me just as much as he gets turned on by my fatter body. That’s why it’s been so easy to do this to myself. I would never allow this to happen otherwise.

He’s always been handsy and affectionate, showing appreciation for my body by kissing, nibbling and touching. I feel like a self-centered brat for saying this, but to be honest, when I was skinnier, Zach’s affection didn’t feel nearly as special as it does now. I was skinny and hot, I was used to the attention. Of course Zach was going to touch my body. Why wouldn’t he? That’s what men do to attractive women. They want to claim their women and show them off for everyone else to see. An attractive woman with a nice body is a reflection of themselves as a man, you see. At least that’s how things typically work. From the beginning of our relationship, Zach dragged me to hundreds of parties and gatherings with no reason other than, “But I just want to show you off.”

Now that I’m fuller and fatter, he still says the same exact thing to me. “Come on baby, please? I just wanna show you off.” The fact that he seems so sure about my sexiness, and that he likes to show me off to everyone of importance outside of our family, really helps me to see past my insecurities. Now that I understand Zach loves and appreciates me no matter my size, I feel his touches. I feel his nibbling and his kisses. I feel the intentionality behind everything. I feel every gentle squeeze to my hip while in public. I feel the slight movement of his finger on my love handle as his arm rests around my waist. I feel the guidance of his hand on my lower back. I feel alive and very aware. I feel like a beautiful woman. Not that I didn’t before, because I did. But now the intimacy is deeper, and I feel it to my core. I’m sure Zach has touched a hundred women before me, but he’s never touched one like me. He’s choosing me every single day, exactly the way that I am...full and curvy, and all by his choice. He wants that, and I want that for him.

I’m also more aware of the way women ogle and seek out attention from Zach. He’s easy on the eyes with his muscular body and aesthetically pleasing face, and the fact that a smile is quick to appear on his face during’s dangerous. Just dangerous, I tell you. Even when he weighed 300 pounds, Zach had women of all kinds captivated and charmed and begging to be noticed by him. He’s like a magnet, and I love that about him. I’ve gotten used to it, although truthfully, I have never been the jealous type. It’s just that these days, I find humor during situations where women see his fat wife and think they’re safe to give Zach a flirtatious smile or a seductive wink in front of me. It’s funny because I know the skinny bitches have nothing on me when it comes to what my husband wants. He wants me. And he’s trying to get me fatter.

A few quick knocks on the bathroom door startled me and made jump. Zach was probably wondering what the hell I’ve been doing. I’ve been admiring myself, that’s what.

“Babe? You okay in there? You’re not going to spend the rest of our vacation in the bathroom, are you?”

“Almost done. Just tying the back of my bikini.”

I watched in the mirror as my hands outlined the fleshy curve of my hips and squeezed at their softest peak. This is me now, all 223 pounds of sexy, squishy fullness, and the anticipation of seeing Zach’s face once I step out in this bikini has got me all kinds of turned on. This is by far the fattest I’ve ever been. It blows my mind that just 2 years ago on my 30th birthday, I was 128 pounds on my fattest day. From the back, it’s obvious that I’m a fuller, curvy woman. But when I turn to the side, a rounded belly follows. Honestly though, I don’t even think I look that fat. Not 223 pounds fat, anyway. I feel like I carry my weight well because of my big thighs and huge butt. They’ve been eating up most of my calories, but I know it’s only a matter of time before those extra indulgences start to shift over into my belly.

I applied a matte lip shade and a squirt of perfume, and then I took one last breath before opening the door. And of course, Zach’s face said it all. And if for some reason I wasn’t able to read his face, the pitched tent in his swim trunks said it all, too. Zach’s eyes did a quick, skittered glance over of my body before he started from the top again, this time taking me in much slower, as if he was scanning every little detail into his mind of what he saw in front of him.


I did a slow turn for him to see how little of my bottoms covered my back side. I knew he’d want to see it. Details matter, especially on a mostly naked woman.

“I take it that you like what you see?”

Zach shook his head up and down as he got closer to my face, and he whispered in my ear, “I want.”

“You waaannnt....what?”

“You, baby. Please.”

“You mean....this?” I moved Zach’s hands down to my butt and made him squeeze a handful. He lazily moaned into my neck, and I knew he was done for.

“Mmhm. Need. Want. Gonna have.”

I kissed Zach slowly and then gently sucked on the bottom of his lip, just the way he liked it. I watched as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. The man was weak. This has been way too easy.

“You can have every single part of me baby, served exactly the way you want it...aaaafter lunch.”

“Brooooke. Just a quickie.”

“No means no, no matter how you put it.”

I knew that would get him, so I quickly threw on my swim suit cover and grabbed my sun hat. I had planned to lounge by the pool after lunch, but if he couldn’t get his shit together by then, it’d be cruel to make him wait. Zach let out another desperate moan.

“After lunch, Zach! I’m hungry!”

A quick smirk played on his lips, and I would have to be stupid to not know what he was planning to do.


Sep 1, 2019
I counted them all. There were 6 plates total. A cheese burger fully loaded with toppings, sweet potato fries, mozzarella sticks, chicken fingers with a side of ranch, a big bowl of fruit, a side of chicken and dumplings, and a beer. Can’t forget the beer.

“Say, little lady. That’s a lot of food you got there.”

“Yeah, my husband likes me nice and fat for a good fucking.”

“What a man.”

“I’ll say. But you should see how quickly he blows his load. I can’t even call him the minute man. He’s more like a two pump chump and-”

“Wow, Brooke.”

“What? Why are you saying my name, I thought we were playing strangers together!”

“Yeah, until you took it too far and brought my manhood into the conversation.”

“Well, you were supposed to be a stranger. A stranger shouldn’t get offended by my husband’s manhood. And you didn’t even let me finish. I was going to say that I didn’t mind my husband being a two pump chump, because he can get it back up soon after and last a lot longer the second time.”

“You really are something else, Brooke Davis.”

“I try my hardest. And I’m not eating all this food, by the way. It’s too much, and I already told you that I don’t want to be busting out of my clothes by the end of our vacation.”

“I just wanted to give you options. You looked....hungry.”

I glared at Zach as I bit into my cheese burger. My very delicious, juicy cheese burger, I might add. I refuse to eat myself into a heart attack during the remainder of this next year, but I will fatten myself up pretty good. All for the sake of love, and for the sake of this delicious cheese burger.

After eating way more than I thought I could, I took a heavy breath and swallowed my last bite with difficulty. I was past my limit and should have stopped a long time after my cheeseburger and fries, and after the bowl of fruit. Fruit is filling, you know. But no, I had to eat a chicken finger...and a few mozzarella sticks...and a few bites of chicken and dumplings. Forget the broccoli, I was too full for that. But I wasn’t too full for 2 and a half beers. Can’t forget the beers. Oh, God, I felt like I was about to pop with each extra bite, but Zach looked so adorable over there squirming in his seat as he watched from across the table. I distracted myself from the fullness with thoughts of what was to come afterward. About Zach’s long fingertips stroking gently over my stuffed belly, and his soft lips kissing a slow trail down toward my womanhood. Mmm, good stuff. And now it’s hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m so very, very, very f-

“You’re looking pretty full over there.”


“Looking incredibly sexy, too.”


“I’m positive you’ll look even sexier with your bikini around your ankles.”

“Why do all your thoughts have to end with me being naked?”

“Because they’re my thoughts, so they can.”

Zach’s lips broke into a smile, and I realized he was just too dang charming and handsome to resist. “So you’re every thought you have if me, I’m naked?”


“So when you’re talking to me on the phone while you’re at work-”


“I’m naked.”


“What about when you think of me cooking dinner while you’re on your way home from work. Still naked?”


“That’s unsanitary.”

“My thoughts, my rules.”

“So when you think back on me in that blue dress at Penny’s really liked that dress. So do you think about me in that dress, or do you think about me naked...while also in the house of the LORD, just to add.”

Zach sucked in his breath and stretched, “Ohh, now that’s a tough one. Let’s see. When I think back to the day of the famous blue dress at Penny’s baptism, I think about you wearing it, and how sexy it would look on you now. Even sexier today.”

“I would without a doubt rip right out of that blue dress if I put it on today.”

“Well then, I guess I just have to envision you naked for that scenario, too. And do you still have that dress? Because I’d like to see that happen


Sep 1, 2019
Later that evening as we laid together on a lounge bed near the ocean, watching the sun set under the warmth of the evening rays, I traced my fingers in little doodles over Zach’s stomach and listened to the ocean tell us her story. Oh, the things she’s seen in her time- wars, death, love, re-birth. How many mysteries is she holding from us? I bet there are millions.



“When you were younger, what did you think your life would be like?”

“Well, I’ve known since I was ten that I wanted to be a lawyer. I never had any doubt about that. I guess I didn’t really know what I wanted outside of that. I knew I wanted a wife and a family, but I also knew that the home life I’d experienced growing up wouldn’t be fulfilling enough for my own future.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I didn’t want to have a wife just to fill up a blank slot in my life. I didn’t want a wife who would just cook for me and take care of our kids and the big house we shared. And I didn’t want to spend weekends away from my family at the country club during social hour, smoking cigars and playing golf like my dad did...or still does. I had such a blind vision of what a happy marriage should look like. I knew what a tolerable marriage looked like, but I didn’t want tolerable. To be honest, I didn’t even know if “fulfilling” was real. As my friends got married and I was able to witness their marriages, they looked happy to me. But also, my parents looked happy to everyone in the outside world as well. The second they got home, they went to their separate rooms and went back to their eight word conversations, head nods, and grunts. As you know, my dad was and still is a good man, but he’s distant. There’s no outpouring of love or wisdom coming from him. If you asked for a hundred dollars, he’d give it to you and not ask what it was needed for, you know? Growing up, the only times I remember my dad laughing was when he was around his golfing buddies. Those were the only times I saw him genuinely smile, too, and it made me feel like shit. And you know my mom saw right through my exterior. She knew I felt the lack of love from my dad, so she made up for it by trying to give me double of her love. God bless her, she tried, and I made her think that it was enough because it would have killed her to know that it wasn’t. Because honestly, nothing can replace a father’s love. That’s why I make it my life’s mission to love our girls in such obvious ways outside of being their financial provider. I don’t ever want them to look back on their life and wonder if I loved them enough.”

“You are the best father, Zachary Davis. We are all so lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, baby. And I’m lucky to have you. You are my everything. The moment I saw you, I knew you were what my soul was searching for.”

“Oh really, just like that? Without knowing me at all?”

“Yes. It sounds cheesy, I know. But I swear to you, I just knew. Don’t you believe in soul mates?”

I searched Zach’s eyes to determine if I should lie to him to keep the conversation flowing, because truthfully, I did not believe in soulmates. I hated answering this question with my clients, too. Most of the time I diverted the conversation back onto them, but I couldn’t do that to Zach, and I shouldn’t be afraid to speak my heart.

“Truthfully, no, I don’t. I believe we have one soulmate at a time, and never any more that that. I like to think if something were to happen to a spouse, resulting in death, or if a marriage ended divorce, then there would be another person out there for that someone. But, I think with each soulmate comes a different type of love. I don’t think one soulmate holds more value or love over the other, but I think each one holds a love that can’t be touched by another. Does that make sense? I also believe you never truly stop loving someone. So rest assured that if something happens to you, I’d still love you as much as I do now.”

“That’s painfully beautiful and a little depressing.”

“Welcome to my brain.”

“And I love that brain of yours. But I have a question for it. Say someone gets to experience life with multiple soulmates...”


“And say the first soulmate dies and the spouse meets and marries their second soulmate...”


“And then both the spouse and second soulmate live a long life together and die of old age and then pass over into the next life with all the other dead people...”

“ a little offhand toward the end, but go on.”

“So who would the spouse spend their afterlife with, the first soulmate or the second?”

“Well, duh. It’s obvious that there would be a polygamous relationship. But if I ever have more than one soulmate, I promise that when we meet in the afterlife, I’ll choose you and tell the other fella to scram.”

Zach chucked and pulled me in closer to his body.

“You are so ridiculous.”

“I was really hoping you’d say romantic.”

“Ridiculously romantic.”

“That’s better.”

I leaned even closer to Zach and took his lips between my own. His tongue tasted like a mixture of himself and of sweet liquor and strawberries. I knew we were hidden and out of sight of others on our private beach, so I didn’t push Zach’s eager hand away when he pulled my thigh over his torso and squeezed on my ass like a thick ball of dough.

“Brooke Davis, if there’s one thing I want you to remember for the rest of your existence, it’s that you are the gleam behind my eyes and the center of my heart. I only want you for the rest of my life, no matter what, and no body else.”

I knew he was telling the truth. Zach never had trouble speaking his feelings to me, and I never needed to ask for him to share them either- he did it willingly.

I really do not believe in perfection of a human, but if it exists, then Zach was it...flushed cheeks from the heat of the sun, thick waves of dark hair piled on his head from vacation mode, a muscular body that seems to look 10x sexier with a tan. And here he is, looking at me like he’s the one who stuck gold.

I slowly maneuvered myself to sit in Zach’s lap, and as I got situated, he rubbed his hands on the sides of my belly, which was still full from dinner and swollen from alcohol. I immediately felt him grow hard underneath my weight, which had to be 30 or so pounds heavier than his own by now. My belly flipped in a giddy fit of arousal.

For several minutes, I watched in anticipation as Zach touched all over my body with his hands, stopping every once in a while to gently smack the sides of my swollen belly. This had become foreplay to him, and I enjoyed it just as much as he did. Who wouldn’t want their body to be worshipped?

I reached behind me to undo my bikini top and felt Zach’s dick throb desperately underneath me as my top fell quickly to the sand. My breasts bounced and jiggled freely and stood very erect in the evening breeze. Zach took one in his warm mouth, and I knew foreplay was over, because my insides were screaming for Zach to enter me.

Zach peeled my bottoms off quickly and steadied himself over my body, where he paused to take a deep breath. Then slowly but with purpose, he entered me and began to thrust.

Even when laying down, my belly filled out like a balloon, and I knew Zach was very aware of this.

“Oh my god, you’re so sexy.”

“Mm, glad you think so, because it’s all for you baby.”

Zach winced his face and moaned.

And honestly, is there anything sexier than hearing a guy moan? I don’t think there is. Especially those involuntary, quiet moans, almost whisper-like in sound. And especially knowing it’s all because of you.

“You’re gonna be sorry you ever gave me permission to fatten you the the time it’s all over.”

“I hope so.”

I smirked, because I knew Zach was seconds away from orgasm after hearing my response. And of course, I was right. He could hardly hold his body up as he emptied himself inside of me. And when Zach fully regained his breath, he looked at me with flushed cheeks and sweat on his brow and said, “Better get used to your belly being this round and full all the time, because over the holidays, that’s when the real fun starts. I’m going to finally put that smart little mouth of yours to work.”

And I knew he was telling the truth.


Sep 1, 2019
- 25 -​

The loud beat of the music reverberated off its surroundings as my hips tried their best to keep up with the pace. Dancing with a few drinks in my system was much easier during my college days. I’ve come to realize that youth is underrated by the young and envied by the old. As teenagers, we want to hit the speed button to 21 as fast as we can. But once we’re there, it’s not enough. We want more. We always want more. We want to push fast forward again until our luck finds us a stable job, then a spouse, then financial stability, then a home, then babies...and by the time we have it all, we just want to go back to the simpler days of our youth.

The days of laying on top of our bed while staring up at the ceiling, wondering, dreaming, longing to become a world changer no longer bound by the chains of our never-ending chore list. Back then, the weight of the world sat just outside the pane of our windows. Quiet enough not to discourage us, but enticing enough for us to want a taste. What we didn’t realize, and stupidly so, is that adulthood is just one big never ending chore. One of the hardest things to do as humans is to live in the moment. Day by day, hour by hour, just being present in the moment that’s been gifted to us.

And that’s hard, because with age, I’ve realized that sometimes I have to work harder at being happy. Life happens, but I’ve learned not to carry the weight of my worries alone. I’ve learned that it’s okay to ask for help, and I’ve learned that it’s okay to not be strong all the time. Sometimes, all it takes is for me to be inside the refuge of Zach’s arms, with my cheek pressed against his chest, the scent of his morning cologne still lingering on his warm neck. It’s cathartic for me to hear the pump of his heart as it beats along the deep hum of his voice.

After Penny was handed to me in the hospital, I became overwhelmed with emotion that I couldn’t put into words. I was consumed by raw emotion I hadn’t felt up until that moment. I wanted my first words to my baby to be valuable and forever stamped on her heart to carry throughout life. The nurse sensed my panic and said, “She doesn’t care what you say to her, she just wants to feel safe. Babies love laying on their momma’s chest and listening to the familiar heartbeat they memorized while in the womb. That was once their heartbeat, too, you know.” I heeded the nurse’s advice and cradled Penny’s little head to my chest, and like magic, she calmed down immediately. I feel like that with Zach. He brings a calmness to my inner storm. He’s like a soft shadow dancing slowly over a lover’s face during a candle light dinner. Accentuating only what’s beautiful in a world of many flaws. That’s what he does. Zach just makes everything better, no matter how small.

The band slowed down the tempo for the next song, and I was thankful for it, because I wasn’t sure how much longer my poor, achy feet could take in these wedge heels. Zach finished off the rest of his beer in a long, impressive chug. A skill he most likely learned during his frat days. As he pulled the bottle from his mouth, a drop of beer trickled down his bottom lip and onto the front of his unshaven chin. He wiped it away before it could fall, then held up a tanned, muscular forearm to motion at the bar for another beer.

Having this uninterrupted time with Zach has reminded me of the things that used to drive me wild about him during our beginning days and months together. Little stuff that shouldn’t matter, but does matter, just because you’re madly in love with the person you’re with. Things like how tall Zach is and the way his personality fills up a room. Never cocky, but always confident. Or how long and sturdy his fingers are. The same fingers that change the oil in my car. The same fingers that swipe my unruly morning hair out of my face. The same fingers that brush over my body and hold onto my hips as we make love.

These thoughts have caused butterflies in the pit of my stomach all week. It’s been so long since we’ve gotten away for more than a few days at a time, just the two of us. No paperwork, no dirty diapers, no distractions. I’ve had nothing else to do with my time but to read, relax, and study my husband. And I’ve been studying him HARD.

Right now, his hair looks unpredictable and borderline curly from the night’s humidity, with the ocean only yards away and just beyond the board walk. There’s a thick wave that keeps falling over his forehead, and he’s probably brushed it out of his face a hundred times already tonight. His skin is tanned and his cheeks are flushed from the sun, making his dark olive green eyes look even more alive. And right now, they’re on me, only me.

Zach wrapped one arm around my waist and brought my body closer to his. He grunted as he steadied a firm hand against my lower back, to keep me from pulling away, and kissed my lips hard and long. Very slowly, a sneaky hand moved down toward the middle of my bottom. Zach chuckled deep and low in my ear before grabbing himself a generous handful. Normally, my cheeks would burn bright pink at this type of public affection. But tonight, I welcomed it. I wanted it, and I wanted him.

Zach held me by my hips while our bodies synced to the rhythm of the music. My mind was free of all worry and turned off to everyone else around me. The alcohol helped with that, and I felt bound by nothing at all. I felt like that young girl again, laying on her bed and staring at the ceiling with a dream lurking just beyond her eyes. Zach stumbled a little bit over his own foot, causing some of his full drink to spill out the neck of the bottle. It splashed all the way up to his cheek, and the both of us laughed like children at the breathy sound that came out of his mouth as he kept himself from falling. Some also got on my dress, but I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered except for the man in front of me, holding my body close to his, and looking at me in a way I knew all too well.

His expression looked hungry to give pleasure and to receive it in return. A pleasure that didn’t come from our normal love making. No, this pleasure stemmed from somewhere deep inside of Zach, and it was a part of him that he’d never invited me to assess before. It comes from a place of deep need, and for some reason or another, it’s a need that he feels he has to contain most of the time. But when he does unleash it, I’m done for, because his effect on me is so strong that it turns all my emergency radars off. Tender, submissive Zach goes somewhere else and another Zach comes out to handle me. He’s persistent and dominant in manner, and his assertiveness makes my womanhood tingle with a pleasure that comes from a deep sexual deviance. When this Zach comes out to play, he has me wrapped around his wants and his needs, and I won’t stop giving myself to him until I know he’s gotten his fill.

Zach got the bartender’s attention again and called out a new order of my drink before turning his attention to me again. He reached around my hips so that his fingers cupped and hefted the bottom of my ass while he spoke low into my ear. “Gotta get some more alcohol in you for tonight.”

“This sounds very serious.”

“It is.”

“No fun?”

“Oh, there will be plenty of fun.”

My finger followed an imaginary roadmap over his abs as I gave him a sexy, pleading look with my eyes, “But, will I remember it in the morning with all this alcohol your putting in me, that’s the real mystery.”

“Baby, trust me. You’ll remember tonight for the rest of your life.”


“I’ll make sure of it.”


Sep 1, 2019
I sat leaning back on an oversized chair, patiently waiting for Zach to join me in the main room. My aching legs pounded in relief as they dangled off the edge of the seat. I looked pretty unladylike with my legs in a spread eagle, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place by the realization of how much space my thighs demanded to take up in my chair. Even though I felt like they were wide open, the thickness of my thighs closed the gap entirely until almost halfway down to my knees. Their added girth truly shocked me, and I immediately felt a tingle in my bellybutton that shot quickly up to my throat.

I guess it’s been a while since I’ve checked myself out in a full length mirror. Or maybe I just haven’t paid much attention to my thighs since my middle is more obvious. I’ve definitely rounded out more in the last few months, even developing tiny stretch marks on the bottom curve of my belly that look like they’ve been drawn on with a fine point pen. No normal person wants to get stretch marks, right? That’s why after first noticing them, my initial reaction was to feel a huge sense of dread. But even so, there was still a tiny tingle just below the surface of my dread that told me that I liked them.

I tried to suppress my uncomfortable feelings of liking that I’ve gained enough weight to make my skin stretch. And after a few days of being in a weird place, I came to realize that the only reason I felt uncomfortable was because I was trying to conform to everybody else’s standards. Truth is, don’t hate my body or my stretch marks, and I shouldn’t self-depreciate who I am just to convince others that I agree with their standards of beauty. Fuck that. I’ve completely reached new territory of my life, here. After spending my entire existence needing to be in control of whatever life allowed me to, I’ve found freedom in the unknown. My excitement and uncertainties have completely meshed together, creating an emotion that feels euphoric, and I’m quickly becoming addicted to it.

I patted the side of my belly and watched it jiggle like jelly underneath my sundress. I liked how it did that. I liked feeling the difference between an empty belly and a full belly. When empty, my belly pooched outward in a jiggly mound. But when packed tight with food, it didn’t jiggle at all, it bounced. And since I’m

short, when I do become really full, my torso protrudes outward like an overfilled balloon. It had been hours the last time I’d eaten, though. The only thing filling up my belly now was alcohol.

“You look comfortable.”

Zach hid in a shadow by the front door with his hands in his pockets. He approached me in quiet steps, and in the dimly lit room, his skin look even tanner than it was. He had his white button down shirt rolled all the way up to his elbows, looking like he was ready to get down to business. Zach took off his watch and then emptied his pockets completely, tossing his wallet and pocket knife on the dresser.

“What were you doing?”

He ignored my question and bent down to lift my dress up over my head.

“Did you finish your drink?”

“I did.”


He gently kissed around my navel, and It was so quiet in the room that I heard each time his lips released my skin. I brushed the unruly loose curl off of his forehead, but it was a lost cause. It fell right back down to where it had been.

Zach squeezed my sides and breathed sexy little noises from his nose as he moved toward my plush hips.

“Mmhm. Look at my thighs. They’re getting massive.”

“You’ve grown some impressively thick thighs. They’re delicious.”

His eyes surveyed me with appreciation one last time before pulling me up to move to the bed.

“You’re getting down to business quickly tonight.”

“No, no, don’t you worry. I’m going to butter you up first.” He looked at his wrist before remembering that his watch was on the dresser, “And a lady such as yourself deserves to be buttered up.”

With that, Zach laid down next to me, and we embraced in soft, passionate kisses for several long minutes before he scooped me up to pull me on top of him. I immediately felt a hardness in his pants, and I ached to have him inside of me. Zach must have sensed my eagerness, because he looked at me with a mischievous grin and said, “Be patient, love, it’s gonna be a while until we get to that.”

“A while?”

And, as if it were planned, a quick knocking sounded at our door.

“Stay put.”

Zach addressed the visitor at our door, and after thanking him, I heard the sound of clanking and a rolling squeaky wheel. Part of a table hid my complete view of the door, but it only took me seconds to realize that Zach was pushing a serving cart filled with a bunch of covered plates.

Dinner, finally. And it smelled divine. My nostrils immediately detected the smell of melted cheese and pepperoni, but as for the other things, I had no idea what hid under the lids. When Zach reached me at the bed, he flashed one of his famous toothy grins before opening the box of pizza first. All of a sudden, my hunger ignited into a starvation, and my mouth began to water as I waited for my slice. I inhaled the aromas into my nose to prepare my body for the deliciousness I was about to consume.

“Mmm, carbs and fat. Melted cheese, bread, and pepperoni...Is there anything more heavenly than pizza, especially after a night of drinking?”

“No, pizza takes the cake. Speaking of cake...”

Zach lifted a lid off another plate to show me a huge slice of chocolate cake drizzled in raspberry sauce. I could almost taste the moist chocolate and tart raspberry on my tongue. I moaned out loud.

“Go ahead and start eating, I gotta get something. I’ll be right back.”

I pulled the box of pizza into my lap and took a huge bite. I could hardly close my lips to chew, but I was starving. I felt like I hadn’t eaten all day, and I couldn’t chew my food quick enough to satiate my belly’s emptiness. Zach came around the corner again with one of my skinny leather belts. I chewed even faster to get my awaiting words out, but when I swallowed, I’d forgotten that I wanted to speak and took another huge bite. I decided to just speak through my food in the sexiest voice I could manage, “Oh, baby. Are you gonna spank me tonight?”

Zach smiled from the corner of his mouth and bent over to open another lid on a plate. It was cheesy pasta covered in meat sauce.


“Good ‘cause I’ve been pretty naughty. But, since when did you like pasta and meat sauce?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why’d you get it?”

“It’s not for me.”

“Oh. So the pizza is? I wish you would have told me that when you saw me grab the box, because I’ve been over here chowing down on it.”

“Pizza’s not for me either, baby. It’s for you.”

Zach seemed amused as he waited for my brain to process the information. It eventually clicked. I blame the alcohol for the delay.

“Well damn.”

“Here, sit up straight and don’t suck in.”

I questioned Zach, but I did what he said before waiting for an answer. He reached around my body and secured the belt around my bare middle, leaving me the slightest muffin top above and below the leather.

“What in the hell, Zach? What’s this for?”

“So I can see how full your belly grows as you eat your meal.” I sat frozen in place, more out of shock than anything else. After several seconds passed of me not moving, Zach leaned in so close to my face that his lips touched my ear as he spoke. His warm breath sent a chill down my spine that I’ll never forget for the rest of my life. “So, eat.”

I moved this time, and I didn’t slow down until every piece of pizza was gone and inside of my belly. Two little muffin tops had grown into prominent humps on both sides of the belt. I laid back against the pillows and moaned out of fullness, but mostly out of pleasure. My hands pressed on my belly in an attempt to release the pressure of the tight belt.

“Atta girl.”

Zach sat on the bed next to me and kissed my neck as he felt around my bloated middle. His breathing sounded quick and unsteady, and I knew he was turned on to the highest extreme. I pressed my fingers into my belly and stretched my head back in arousal as Zach’s lips wetted over my neck. My pussy ached for a rub. I felt desperate. I was sure that I would explode at any minute, and it wasn’t because I was full.

“Give me more.”

Zach practically shot up off of the bed to get the pasta, but then I saw him grab something else. When he reached me, he bound my wrists together with one of his ties and placed my hands into my lap.

“My turn now, open wide.”

I obediently opened my mouth and allowed Zach to feed me forkfuls of cheesy pasta. Bite after bite went into my mouth and down to my waiting belly. I was surely going to pop the belt right off of my middle if I kept eating. But I didn’t care. The look of fire and desire in Zach’s eyes as he fed me made me forget about any limit I thought I had.

“Oh, my god. I’m so full.”

“You look full. Just look at that soft gut growing below your belt.”

He squeezed my lower belly with both hands until his fingers sunk in several inches. A little whimper slipped out of his mouth, and I knew I that Zach was having a hard time keeping his dominance over me. I knew he was allowing himself to get too weak.

“Well, what are you waiting for. Feed me my cake.”

“Shit, you’re bad. I hope you know what’s coming for you after this.”

“Yeah, you.” I looked up at Zach through hooded, satiated eyes. He tried to be discrete while sliding a hand over his erection for a quick feel, but not discrete enough. He was slipping fast and needed to step up his game if he wanted to be in charge tonight.

“Open up, buttercup.”


Sep 1, 2019
His mouth slightly mimicked mine as I stretched it open to take the cake. “There you go, baby, just like that.”

“Mmm, more.”

“I don’t know, you’re looking pretty full.”

Zach scooped another large piece of cake into the spoon and brought it to my lips. But just as I was about to take it, he turned the spoon back toward his face and ate it himself. I glared at him as he struggled to chew the ginormous piece of cake in his mouth. Both cheeks looked like a pair of fat puffballs as he tried to break the cake down in his mouth. I blinked slowly, obviously annoyed by his trick.

“You look ridiculous.”

This made him throw his head back in laughter, panting little laughs through his nose since he still had a mouth full of cake. It seemed like minutes before he was able to fully compose himself.

“Damn that was rich. And I just wanted to help you out. Your belt is starting to creak from all that pressure.”

I looked down at my belly, and he was right. My poor belt looked like it was holding on for dear life, and it felt like it, too. Just three more pieces of cake left before pleasure-town, and I was really in my mood to be pleasured. Three more, I’ve got this. I looked Zach square in the eyes and gave him a naughty look as I opened my mouth again. His eyes dilated into huge dark holes as I spoke my next words.


Zach patted the side of my swollen lower gut, making it move heavily below me. “You sure are getting greedy.”

“Being greedy is the only way to grow nice and fat for you.”

His nostrils flared the slightest bit as he scooped up another piece of cake. Then another. And then finally, the last piece entered my mouth. I chewed it slowly and threw my head back in victory. I felt like a stuffed pig ready for slaughter. Zach reached out in front of him and placed both hands on the middle of my belly. He rubbed side to side for several long seconds before lowering his thumbs underneath my swollen gut, and it filled his hands with more than he could even hold.

“My, my. Would you look at that. That’s a fat little belly right there.”

He leaned toward my body and kissed over the top of my lace bra. With all the attention he’d given my belly, he almost ignored my breasts entirely. Almost.

“These are getting pretty swollen, too. Bigger than they were when you nursed both our babies.”

I nodded my head slowly and tried not to lose my eyeballs in the back of my head as Zach sucked on one of my breasts with his warm mouth. They were super ripe, and even I was impressed by their growth. When I wasn’t pregnant or nursing a baby, I had very small B cups. But now, cleavage spilled over the top of my C cup bra. Zach moved his lips down to my belly and kissed it with purpose.

“How much are you weighing these days?”

“A lady never shares her weight.”

“Come on, now. Don’t be shy.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not shy. I’m just not gonna give in so easily to what you want. You have to work for it.”

“Is that how we’re going to play tonight? Because I came prepared to play.”

I nodded and closed my eyes as he made a slow kissing trail down my swollen belly, pausing just before reaching my navel.

“Better watch out, or this belly’s gonna get bigger than mine ever was.”

“If it does, it’ll be because you made it that way.”

“I just might. And that reminds me...”

Zach got up from the bed and pulled a half liter of coke out of the fridge. “This’ll bloat you right up.”

His erection pulsed slowly underneath his shorts as he looked down at me. If I have to drink a half liter of coke before feeling my insides convulse in orgasmic pleasure, then fine. So be it.

“Take off my belt and untie my hands, then hand me the coke.”

“Then suck that sexy gut in, baby.”

Any attempts I made to suck in were futile. When Zach finally unlatched the belt, my belly had a red ring around it’s girth. Finally, relief. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be for long, though.

I opened the coke up and cringed in disgust as that first sip of carbonation burned my throat. I almost spat it out before swallowing.


“Pace yourself and it’ll be easier.”

“You sound as if you have experience with this.”

“I’d bloated my belly up every night in the basement when I was fat.”

“You mean when you were ‘working out’ for hours every night?”

“I was working out. I was working out my abs. Just like you are now, just look at them go!”

I paced myself just as instructed, and with each passing second, my belly bloated up more and more. It got so big that it felt like my ribs were expanding. Just a few more gulps.

“D-(hiccup) done. Oh my god.”

“How do you feel, baby?”

“Massive. Ready to explode.”

I was so full and round that I didn’t even realize I was moaning out loud. Zach peeled my panties off and immediately took my womanhood into his mouth. I wasn’t even sure if I was capable of orgasming with such a full belly. Just the thought of engaging my core during an intense orgasm made me cringe.

“Ohh, I’m soo fuuullll. Zach. Stop, I can’t.”

“Take a deep breath and relax. There you go. Don’t even move your body, just let me do all the work. Relax your mind, relax your body. There you go, baby. Float away and let me take care of you.”

Zach took me in his mouth again and went at a snail’s speed this time. I could feel and hear every little movement going on between his mouth and my womanhood. And he was right, little by little, my pain turned into pleasure. When I did finally reach my breaking point, I could do nothing more than squeeze my eyes shut and pant out quick breaths until the sexual fire inside of my body put itself out. When it was all over with, I shuddered at what I had just experienced. That was surely the most intense orgasm of my entire life. And I wanted many, many more.


Sep 1, 2019
- 26 -

It was 12 minutes past 3 o’clock and I still hadn’t heard a word from my mom. She was late for our monthly lunch date, and each minute that passed by made the knot in my stomach twist tighter. For Elizabeth Mattson, being on time meant that you were early. If you did arrive right on time, then you were already late in her books, and being late on her watch was unheard of.​

I took a nervous sip of my afternoon coffee and slowly scanned my eyes around the cafe for my mom. She entered just as the steam hit the tips of my eyelashes, and I almost spit my coffee back into the mug to greet her. My heart beat like an erratic drum inside of my chest as she embraced me.

“Mom! Is everything okay? You’re shaking.”

My mom attempted a humorous eye roll, but her weak smile had me completely unconvinced. She had given up on her act by the time her body collapsed onto the chair with a loud, tired thud. A prolonged sigh leaked between her lips as she closed her eyes and massaged her temples. Then, she anxiously looked up at me.

“It’s your sister.”

“Meg? What’s the matter, is she okay?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. She called me in the middle of the night, drunk and talking franticly. She was sobbing so hard I couldn’t understand a word she was saying. It took me ten minutes just to get her to take a breath.”

“What’d she say?”

“Brandon left her.”

“What! He did?!”

“Said he couldn’t waste another day of his life pretending to love her, then walked out the door.”

My mind immediately flashed to the calls I received from Meg last night. She called twice during Ella’s bath and then again as me and Zach watched a movie before bed. But she didn’t leave a message of any sort, and Meg always left a frantic message when it was an emergency. I meant to call her back today, but I didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with her neediness. With Meg, there’s no such thing as a quick conversation, unless it’s her time that’s being wasted. Then she’ll leave you hanging on the other end of the line faster than the human mind is meant to process.

To be honest, Meg is....complicated. Spending time with her can be draining to those closest to her, especially when she’s in one of her moods. On her worst days, Meg becomes pessimistic, irrational, anxious, explosive, mean spirited, needy, and fearful of not being loved by the ones she loves most. On these days, nothing Meg does is funny. Her jokes are purposefully antagonistic, and if you call her out, she’ll act absolutely appalled that what she said offended you somehow.

On her best days, Meg is unstoppable. She’s the extra breath we didn’t know we needed to take. She’s creative, hilarious, productive, rational, empathetic and resourceful. When I’m with her, I’ll laugh until my ribs feel like they’re splitting, because honestly, no one can make me laugh harder than my sister when she’s having a good day. No one.

That’s the thing, you never know which Meg you’re going to get. Her moods shift the air of a room, even if we don’t give her the power, because she’ll find the weakest person in the group and bait them. She’ll poke and dig until her victim explodes, and by that time every person in the room is fed up with her antics. Come the next morning, she’ll arise happy and cheery and act completely confused as to why yesterday’s victim wants nothing to do with her. But, expecting Meg to take personal responsibility for her behavior is futile, because she won’t do it. She’ll point the finger right back at you and claim that you never loved her in the first place. If only she realized that the proof of our love lies in every extra minute we put up with her shit.

That’s why it’s much easier to maintain a good relationship with my sister when long distance is involved. I love my sister and consider her one of my closest confidants, but I could never live near her. Not at this stage in my life. I don’t have the extra holding space for her bad days. It would be too much; she is too much.

As kids, Meg hated me. I was an interruption into her perfect life. I took the attention from her wants and needs and stole them for myself. At least that’s her side of the story. My side of the story is that I was just breathing and cooing, trying to get some milk and a nice swaddle here and there. But you know, I stole her attention, and she made it clear that I was to blame for all of her problems. My accomplishments were met with scorn. Anything I wore as a tween was not fashionable. It was stupid and ugly and ‘Oh my god your clothes are pathetic.’ She tried to sabotage all of my friendships to the point of luring the girls into her room during slumber parties, spitting out threats if they wanted to join me in my room again. She picked on Ryan each time he came over to our house and also made fun of every song his adolescent heart sang to me. She was relentless. I lived my life wishing I could be invisible just to avoid her wrath.

Our mom went out of her way for Meg, often bending backwards for her because Meg was unable to see all the things people did for her. No matter the bending, nothing was ever good enough. My mom could spend 3 days straight with Meg and only a day with me, but somehow, I’d get blamed for being the favorite. All I wanted to do was live my life in peace, far away from my sister and her evil ways...while all Meg wanted to do was live her life sniffing out any peace I’d found, just so she could destroy it.

Then in middle school, Meg developed an eating disorder and experienced thoughts of suicide. She struggled with bulimia for years before hitting rock bottom as a Sophomore in high school. She spent 3 months in the Country’s best children’s hospital where she was monitored 24 hours a day, even in the bathroom. After stubbornly refusing therapy for her entire life, Meg had no other choice but to receive it while as an in-house patient. She couldn’t be discharged otherwise. During that time, Meg seemed to benefit from therapy. During monitored family nights, her smile seemed real, sometimes even borderline nervous. Like she was nervous we’d leave if she acted up. And although she would sometimes still shout through her bouts of anger, she didn’t stay angry. She was able to come back up to the surface, and that was...well, it was unheard of.

She wrote me long letters while in rehab. Some were serious and some offered a bit of hospital patient humor. Then, in one of her many weekly letters, Meg signed her name and wrote that she loved me. It was the first time I had ever seen those words written from her. She began calling me every night just to talk, and we’d speak for hours about Ryan or about whatever was going on in my life. When Ryan’s best friend died in high school, Meg called me and asked if I was okay. That was the first time in my existence that she expressed sadness at my own sadness. Her vulnerability made my heart hurt for her in a weird way. I was confused. Meg had been cunning and mean spirited since the day I was born, and nothing less. I wasn’t used to this treatment. Was she claiming her defeat? It wasn’t like her to do that. I wanted to pick her up and say, ‘Come on, take your best shot.’

Honestly, for a year I kept Meg at a distance, but she didn’t know that. She didn’t know me well enough to decipher the difference between easy going Brooke and on-guard Brooke. I was all in the same to her, because I was still a stranger to her mind. I anticipated over an entire year to hear Meg’s evil laugh interrupt me during a conversation, especially during a vulnerable moment. It would be just like her to set me up only for her to play with my emotions. She always went the distance. But, the laughter never came. Then, she began to tell me that she loved me before hanging up the phone. A switch went off inside of Meg, and I was no longer considered a worthless piece of shit in her eyes.

In fact, she began to look up to me. She wanted to be around me, even asking me to tag along with her and her friends. It was like I was Meg’s safety blanket after rehab. She needed me to help her navigate the world through different eyes. I once questioned why she wanted me to hang around her and her friends all the time, and that’s when I heard the first compliment to ever leave her mouth. She said, ‘You’re the funniest person I know.’ I had the urge to look behind my shoulder to make sure she was talking All of a sudden, my wit and humor were met with ‘When did you become so funny?’ Uh, always. I wanted her to know that I’d always been funny. But when you hate someone’s as much as Meg hated me, humor is the last thing you notice about someone.

So, there birthed our new sisterly relationship. Meg looked up to me and valued my life, and I just sort of shuffled along awkwardly until I found a comfortable rhythm to our new relationship. So many times I stopped and wondered how hard the hospital had hit Meg’s reset button. I didn’t understand how someone could switch so easily. But, I finally told myself it was time to stop wondering. I needed to let go of the safety strings I still kept for precautionary reasons. Because, in the smallest corner of my brain, I knew old Meg still had a finger-hold on new Meg, and it wasn’t fair for me to allow this dead weight to hold her back any longer. So I cut that string, and our relationship blossomed.


Sep 1, 2019
I confided in Meg over things I didn’t feel comfortable sharing with my mom or with Courtney, Ryan’s sister. Like when I wanted to go on birth control but was too afraid to tell my mom, even though I knew she wouldn’t be mad that me and Ryan were having sex. Meg drove me to Planned Parenthood and didn’t tell a soul. She also didn’t tell a soul after I had a pregnancy scare during my freshman year of college, when Ryan and I acted completely irresponsible while on a wild spring break together. And when I ended my engagement to Ryan, she stayed with me, and sometimes I was convinced that she grieved even more than I did.

Meg became very protective of me during the years that followed my breakup. When Zach came into the picture, she showed resentment toward our relationship and visibly turned her nose up at him each time he approached her. Her reasoning was that she didn’t trust him and that he looked too much like a player. He worked out too much. He tried to buy me with his money. He was too old for me. He wasn’t good enough. He was afraid to have sex with me because he was hiding a small penis. These were things Meg tried to plant into my brain. But I knew Zach- gentle, patient, caring (big penis) Zach. I also knew first hand how judgmental Meg could be.

For the most part, Zach was a good sport and ignored Meg’s prying questions and rude commentary. She would intentionally try to embarrass him or get him to stumble over his words in front of my dad. “So, Zach, what are your thoughts on prostitution and women‘s rights?” Or, “Would you be okay with being a stay at home dad if Brooke wanted to work full time?” And my personal favorite, “If Brooke wanted to remain friends with one of her exes, would you be secure enough in your manhood to not get jealous?” She thrived on making him uncomfortable, something I was all too familiar with during my adolescence. After a few good private conversations, she finally agreed to dislike him quietly and from afar.

Then about a year after I began dating Zach, Meg met Brandon. And thank God for Brandon, because he distracted Meg away from all of us. He was also great at getting her to shut up during her tantrums. The running joke in our family (behind Meg’s back) was that Brandon must be really good in bed, because no one had ever been able to tame Meg’s irrational outbursts like him. Not even with two therapists in the family.

But, even with a new love interest, Meg never fully stopped hating Zach. It wasn’t until Zach began to soften up physically that Meg seemed more at ease with him, even going so far as to say, “I like you a little more now that you’re fat.” The fatter he got, the nicer she became. I think in her mind, if he got fat enough then he’d be less likely to run off and break my heart. And, if I’m right about Meg’s theory, she is really going to hate him now.

I shared my mom’s anxiety as she spoke of Meg’s plan to travel home for the holidays. It had been several years since the last time she visited. We always enjoyed ourselves regardless of Meg’s emotional outbursts, but we also had Brandon working on our side to help calm her. Without Brandon, how would Meg act? For 9 years we relied on him to do the dirty work, as bad as that sounds. Just thinking of Meg moping around my house at Thanksgiving and Christmas made me want to give up on the holidays completely.

Not only that, but the last time Meg saw me, I was a little bit chubby and nothing more. It’s hard to say how she’ll react to Zach’s hard body and my fatter one. She’ll probably blame Zach for everything and make up an elaborate story about how he made me fat on purpose because he couldn’t stand the attention I got from other men. She’ll say all of this in front of Joyce, of course offending her, which will make my mom feel the need to scold Meg for her lack of manners, which will then make Meg respond in an even more irrational way. It will be one big fat shit show, all dictated by Meg’s emotions.


The sound of my mom’s calming voice made all of the skittering ants in my brain come to a full stop.

“I know you’re anxious, and so am I. Your sister is in a bad place right now and she needs us. We cannot fix her, but we can hold space for her.”

“Yes, we can do that.”


“I’ll call Joyce and let her know Meg will be joining us this year. She already knows how Meg is, but I want to give her and Tony a heads up.”

“Good idea.”

“How’s dad?”

“Well. He’s already stocked up on his liquor stash.”

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