BHM Private Practice

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Sep 1, 2019
- 27 -​

I’ve had less than a week to prepare myself for Meg’s presence at Thanksgiving, and we’re now down to the final 24 hours before show time. For days I’ve conducted hypothetical conversations with Meg inside of my head so that I’ll be on top of my game upon her arrival. I want to make sure that I’m fully prepared for all her potential topics of discussion. I refuse to show up unprepared, because the more prepared I am, the more off guard Meg will be. I’ve narrowed down which offenses I will care about and which offenses I will not waste my breath on. If I cared about them all, then I’d lose energy quickly, and one has to maintain emotional energy when dealing with Meg.

And there’s absolutely nothing left for me to do but wait. Everything’s been done twice over already. I’ve been such an anxious mess that I joined in on the cleaning when our maid was here earlier, but I had to stop when she kindly asked me to leave her to it. I decided to organize my closet instead. When I was done with mine, I moved over to Zach’s, but then I remembered how I was mad at him and decided to leave him to organize his own damn closet. To be honest, I’m not even sure why I’m mad at him in the first place. It started about 3 days ago, and I’ve ignored his entire being ever since. On top of that, I was suffering through some bad period cramps and didn’t have the time to deal with any added stress. I’ve just been in a bad mood toward everybody lately. I can’t even blame my attitude on my mensural cycle anymore because it’s been over with for days. My family probably thinks I’ve gone mad. I feel like I’ve been running around the house acting like Faye Dunaway’s character in Mommy Dearest.

Ah yes, NOW I remember why I’m mad at Zach. He made a comment about me being in a ‘mood’. But it wasn’t just what he said, it was how he said it and what he looked like as he did. I had picked up his running shoes from the middle of the living room floor and made a comment about us having a mud room by the garage for a reason. Our mud room is bigger than a standard sized kitchen. It has numerous wooden benches with an entire wall of shelving and hooks. There’s no reason a person should walk right past the benches just to sit on the couch to remove their shoes. Zach ignored my comment as he chugged his glass of water and stripped off his sweaty running shirt.

“Uh, I said there’s a reason we have a mudroom.”

“I heard you.”

“So acknowledge what I said.”

“I will try to be better about putting my shoes away.”

But it was that chirpy smile on his face that pushed me over the edge. He had no reason to be chirpy. There I was working my ass off to prepare our home for family, and he had the audacity to be casual and nonchalant with me?

“No, you WILL be better.”

“Brooke, you realize people live here, right? It’s normal for our things to be out of place sometimes. Get off my nuts. You’ve been in a mood ever since meeting your mom for lunch.”

“Get off your nuts? Gladly! Now get off my kitchen floor. You’re dripping sweat all over it.”

Zach left to shower after that, but I wanted him to come back just so I could smack him. He did find me later to apologize, but I snuffed his attempt. Since then, I’ve made sure to sleep on my side of the bed, as far away from him as possible and with my back turned to him. Maybe I’ve gone too far, but I’ll tell you one thing- Zach hasn’t left his shoes laying around the house since that day in the kitchen.

And I’m aggravated because it seems that every time Zach is on my shit list, he automatically becomes 5x more attractive to me. Maybe it’s the chase, I don’t know. I’ve never really had to work hard to receive his affection, but I do like a good challenge. That’s why I left the bathroom door slightly cracked before stepping in the shower. And just as luck would have it, Zach walked into our bathroom right in the middle of me rinsing the shampoo out of my hair. I knew he was lingering. I also knew there was a good chance he was watching me through the mirror. We hadn’t had sex in over a week and that is pretty long in our books. I know Zach is fully capable of taking care of himself, but he’s made it very clear over the years that releasing himself is not the same as being inside of me. I had a feeling that he was aching.

I turned the water off and grabbed my robe and a towel to dry my hair. After the steam cleared, I smelled something grilled food, and it made my stomach growl. I was so hungry. In the process of keeping myself busy, I’d been really bad about not eating food with proper nutrients. Instead, I binged on our unopened left over bags of Halloween candy. My body absolutely hated me for it and wanted something of substance. I’m so hungry that I’ll probably find myself binging on something else unhealthy while I cook dinner. It’s a bad habit I’ve gotten into.

Zach was still fiddling with something in his closet, but I walked over to my vanity and carried on with my routine like he wasn’t there. Or, tried to carry on like he wasn’t there. It was hard to do that when he walked out of his closet while pulling a clean t-shirt over his head. I didn’t dare to make eye contact in the mirror as I propped a smooth leg up on my chair to apply some lotion. I made sure it was nice and rubbed in before moving on. Moisture is very essential for the skin, you know. When I was done with my sensual lotion application, I brushed out my tangled hair and let my robe pool at my feet. I waited several long seconds before slipping my panties on over my hips and clasping my bra in the back. There was a 110% chance that Zach was watching me, so I casually strutted my half-naked self to my closet to throw on a comfy v-neck and some athletic shorts. When I was pleased with myself, I emerged from my closet and passed by Zach, who was perched halfway on my vanity with his sexy arms crossed over his sexy chest, and in my peripheral I could see his sexy head following my body as I walked out of the bathroom like his sexy ass didn’t even exist.

Man, I need to get laid.

I had every intention of cooking dinner tonight, but when I arrived in the kitchen, dinner was already set out to be served. There, in the middle of our island sat grilled hamburgers, grilled veggies and potato wedges, and a huge bowl of cut up fruit. It was Zach who had grilled, and that’s why he went into the bathroom to change his shirt. He hated smelling like the grill. My stomach let out an angry growl again, so I loaded my plate up with food, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and went to town.

Zach came in the kitchen several minutes later, but I had my back toward him. I didn’t even look at him, to be honest. I was too busy updating my clients’ charts on my laptop. Zach didn’t say anything to me anyway. I heard him fill his plate with food and grab some silverware from the drawer, but I didn’t even know he had left for his office until I heard the heavy glass doors sliding shut. I took a long drink of my beer. And then I took another one.

By the time I had the energy to get off the couch, it was already 11pm. And the only reason I hadn’t removed myself sooner was because I was too lazy to muster the strength to pull my torso forward from off of the back cushion. If I rolled my body sideways, I would encounter my empty dinner plate, an empty beer bottle and two empty pints of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Yes, two. I couldn’t decide which flavor I wanted, so I told myself I would eat just a little bit of both. And, well, they’re gone now. I finally just slid my body off the front of the couch like my limbs were broken, which made my shirt roll up to my neck, exposing my full belly. And boy did I look fat.

So, here I am, still sitting with my shirt rolled up to my neck, staring at my belly like I’m surprised by it’s size. But I’m not surprised, because it didn’t get here over night. It’s grown more buoyant over the last few weeks, that’s for damn sure. That’s what happens when you go in vacation and then binge on chocolate for breakfast, lunch and dinner the following week.

I slowly tickled the sides of my belly with my fingernails. I was so full that my sides were distended. I couldn’t even see the top of my thighs if I looked down. Hell, I couldn’t even tell if I was wearing shorts. I rolled my body to the side and pushed myself up to standing. It took me several minutes to find my balance. My upper belly felt like I had swallowed an inflated balloon. I couldn’t help but to laugh at myself as I walked to my bedroom, because I already knew how ridiculous I looked.

When I reached the stairway by the front of the house, I saw Zach still working at his computer inside of his office. Papers were stacked in huge piles around his desk, offering just enough room for his empty dinner plate to sit off to the side by the edge. He was slowly sipping away at a beer. I remained undetected though, because Zach was staring at his computer, which only exposed the left side of his body. I crouched down on the floor and watched him through the railing of our stairs. The lights were out in the front foyer, so I knew he couldn’t see me. Creepy, eh, perhaps. Depends on who you ask, and I say ‘curious’ is a better suited word.


Sep 1, 2019
When Zach was finished with his beer, he stretched his arms up and then rested them at the back of his head. They stayed there while he looked at his computer screen. He’d really stepped up his workout game lately, and it was obvious by how huge his biceps were, even when not flexed. Zach scrolled his screen up and jotted a few notes down before resting his hands behind his head again. I couldn’t even see his computer screen, but I knew he was reading case files. He had his concentration face on, which he only used when reading through boring documents. It was a rather serious face for a man who was so quick to smile at a passing stranger, or quick to laugh with his entire heart at things that deserved just a chuckle, at the very most. But I loved that serious face. And I loved him, no matter what.

Man, I’ve been a huge bitch.

Zach wrote down a few more notes and went back to resting his hands behind his head again. It didn’t look like he was going to stop any time soon, so I tiptoed to my bedroom and got ready for bed. I made sure to leave a lamp on in our bathroom so Zach wouldn’t have to stumble around in the dark once he came to bed. But what I really wanted was for Zach to see my gesture as me waving my little white surrender flag. I was done being mad at him.

It wasn’t long after getting into bed that I heard the heavy doors of Zach’s office sliding open. And just a few seconds after that, I heard the steady rhythm of his footsteps approaching closer to our bedroom. He lifted the blankets at the foot of the bed to create just enough space for himself to slip under, and then he kissed my body under the covers, leaving a trail on my skin from my toes to my lips. He paused after a brief kiss on my mouth and then studied my face. Zach didn’t say a word to me as he looked into my eyes, and I didn’t say a word to him, either. That same notoriously stubborn curl dangled wildly off his forehead and swayed at even the slightest of movements. I knew it was pointless, but I swiped it back anyway. It stayed in place exactly zero seconds before falling back down to where it started, and almost angrily so. We both breathed a quiet, whispering laugh until the warmth of his hand interrupted us. Zach squeezed tenderly on my love handle and spoke just a notch above the silence.



“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

No other words were exchanged between us before Zach began to remove our clothes. His shirt came off first, and then slowly, he slid my panties down to my ankles, making sure to carefully remove them without touching my feet. Zach took his own shorts off and then lightly straddled my hips when he joined me on the bed again. His body was insane. If I had to guess, I’d say that Zach was in the best shape of his life. I’ve said that before, I know, but his improvement never stopped. Toward the end of summer, I saw an increase in his weight lifting and a much welcomed increase in his appetite, giving his body a more filled-out look verses the skinny, unhealthy body he had a year ago.

I brushed my fingers down Zach’s stomach, causing his muscles to contract in a ticklish response. Goosebumps immediately prickled over his skin, so I playfully did it again. Zach watched my fingers touch on his body with an intense concentration, letting me get halfway down his torso before deeming the sensation as too much. A breathy laugh escaped his lopsided grin as he covered my hand with his, and he pressed my palm deep into his muscle before bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“Behave, woman”

“I don’t know how.”

“Neither do I.”

Zach never took his eyes off of mine as he pressed himself inside of my womanhood. It had been so long that the both of us sighed in relief as we felt the pressure deepen. He kept himself propped up with one elbow while his other hand tenderly squeezed the bottom of my swollen belly. His breathing stayed very steady as he penetrated me. I knew Zach was focusing extra hard so that he could last longer, and I wasn’t going to mess him up this time. I needed this, too.

I moaned in response to the overwhelming feeling that filled up inside of my belly, causing Zach to slow his thrusting down into a steady halt. He pressed his forehead to mine and breathed through his nose in deep, rhythmic breaths. I felt him pulsing angrily inside of me.

“Are you okay?”

“Gotta take it easy. Gimme a sec.”

Zach shut his eyes tightly and pursed his lips together before he slowly began to thrust again. When he opened them up, his pupils dilated so quickly that it looked as if they’d swallow his irises whole.

“You are the the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

I smiled at his words and at how genuine his face looked as he spoke them. His expression was almost boyish, with his brows raised over the top of his expanded eyes. I loved it when Zach got so turned on over my body that he didn’t know what to do with himself. He pushed his face hard into the pillow behind my head and muffled a desperate, almost angry sounding moan. When he was done, he hungrily, but still slowly, kissed at my jaw and neck until he couldn’t take it a minute longer.

“You are so fucking delicious, baby. My god, so delicious. I’m gonna come, I can’t take it any longer.”

Seconds later, Zach thrusted himself as deep as he could inside of me, making my entire body quiver in response, as he let his seed fill me up.

The both of us laid on our back for what seemed like minutes as we tried to catch our breaths. I finally broke the silence.

“That was so fucking hot.”

“You’ve gotta stop doing this to me.”

“Doing what to you?!”


Zach motioned at the length of my body with his hand.

“It should be illegal to be so sexy.”

“Oh, stop it.” I playfully smacked Zach’s belly with the backside of my hand. He quickly caught my wrist and rolled me over to lay on top of his body. I heard his breath catch in his chest as he felt my weight on top of him.

“What’s the matter, too heavy for ya?”

“Mmm, no baby. Not heavy enough.”

“What do you mean! Just look at me...”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve been looking.” Zach squeezed at my ass and spanked it a few times, causing the fat to jiggle all over. “And I like what I see. You’re getting that bouncy, swollen look to your belly, and it’s driving me insane.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Meg will have lots to say about that tomorrow. Or actually today, since it’s 1am.”

“And she can keep her opinions to herself. She’s not going to do her manipulative mind-fuck games this year.”

“Zach, she’s in a really bad place. Try to be patient with her.”

“Babe, I understand she’s in a really bad place, but that doesn’t give her the right to bring everyone else down with her. She can be sad, that’s fine. Sad is normal. No one has ever tried to silence Meg’s sadness. But I refuse to forgo the peace of my family for the sake of keeping Meg’s tantrums pacified. We expect more out of our toddlers than we do for Meg, who is 35-fucking-years old.”

“Are you done?”

“I’ve said my peace.”

“Good. Now go to bed.”

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t. Zach’s words played in a loop inside of my head. Easier said than done, for sure. But he was right, and we have to do what’s right. There’s just no other way.


Sep 1, 2019
- 28 -​

As a child, I remember watching my mom prepare our Thanksgiving feast with care and ease. It looked almost therapeutic to her, as if she enjoyed the measuring and the mixing and the kneading that went into the preparation. She’d wipe her thin hands onto her apron and hum to herself as she went on to the next step. I sat on top of the kitchen counter, far out of her way, just watching my mom’s every move. I studied her mannerisms; the way her nose slightly twitched each time she leaned down to read her recipe book. The way she walked about the kitchen calmly, never rushed, but always with purpose. I wanted to be her. I wanted to be beautiful and wonderful at everything. And most of all, I wanted to be loved and cared for like my mom was by my dad. In my eyes, my mom was perfect, and I took on the challenge to emulate her perfect being. For a while, I was really good at mirroring the memories I had of my mom as I calmly cooked for our Thanksgiving feasts.

Until I became a mom.

The first time I tried to cook our Thanksgiving feast as a new mom, I had an infant who wanted nothing but my skin on her cheek and a boob near her face, and I lost my shit. I don’t know why I turned down my mom’s offer to cook that year. I wanted no part of her help and demanded that I make the feast myself. I knew it would be challenging with a baby, but I never expected it to be a catastrophe. Poor Zach, I can remember vividly how he bounced and cradled a screaming Penny to his chest as he asked if I needed help with the cooking. I turned around and hissed at him with the hatred of an un-showered, tired mom who had milk stains on her shirt.

“Does it look like I need help?”

I could see Zach weighing his options. He wanted to tell me that yes, it looked like I was in the midst of starting a dumpster fire. But on the other hand, I knew that he dearly valued his life. I did need help and I knew that he knew I needed help, but I stood there glaring at him anyway, challenging him, awaiting his response.

“Maybe I can just cut the turkey for you once it’s out of the oven.”

The turkey, right. That thing. It was still on the counter, unprepared and uncooked, and with less than 90 minutes to go before family arrived. Don’t ask me how I forgot about the single most important thing to a Thanksgiving feast, because to this day, I still don’t know. I almost fainted once I realized what a complete failure I was. Then I was embarrassed, because I pretended to have it all together when my husband knew that the turkey was just a few feet away from me, still needing to be cooked. Looking back on the situation, I’m impressed at how Zach found a way to tell me I had forgotten to cook the turkey without actually telling me that I forgot to cook the turkey...

Zach quickly loaded Penny into the car and called 5 different markets before finding one that still had a precooked turkey available for purchase. When Zach arrived home, he got rid of all evidence that the turkey was store bought and quickly cut the turkey into perfect eatable slices. To this day, no one knows about the year we almost had a vegetarian Thanksgiving.

Later that evening, after our bellies were as full as our hearts, I pulled my mom to the side and asked how she always had it together as a wife and mother during her stressful moments. I fully expected to feel worse about myself after hearing that my mom never experienced stressful times, but I still wanted to know her secret. Her answer actually surprised me.

“Oh honey, I never had it together. I still don’t. But, I knew you were watching me, and I never wanted you to see me breakdown. In hindsight, I wish I’d been more honest with you, because I see you struggling with perfectionism as a new mom, and that makes my heart break. It was a different time for women, even working women, when you were growing up. If I could go back and do something differently, I would let you see me fail. Seeing your hero struggle, fail and then rise up again is much more impactful than never seeing them fail at all.”

That night as I rocked Penny before bed, I promised her sleepy little face that I would do my best to let her see me during my less than perfect times.

And thankfully, that was the only Thanksgiving feast fiasco we ever had. It’s been a breeze ever since then, mostly because after our almost vegetarian Thanksgiving, I handed the turkey making task over to my mom.


The food was just about ready. All I needed to do was pull the last batch of my famous homemade dinner rolls out of the oven and slather a thick coat of butter and honey on top. They were the first things to disappear around our table every year, so I always made enough to feed an army, plus extras for leftovers, of course.

I heard the slow shuffling of Zach’s feet as he entered into the kitchen from the side entrance. His freshly shaven face held intense concentration as he buttoned up the front of his dark sage Oxford. When he was done, he brushed his long fingers through his damp waves and gave me one of his famous Zachary Davis smiles. Those damn smiles. They’ll getcha if you’re not careful.

Zach made his way over to me, nodding his head in approval as he checked me out. But I knew why he was here, he couldn’t fool me. He’d come to investigate the food. Zach’s appetite had picked up recently. Not by much, but it was enough to make him appear less bony. He looked strong and healthy, like he was the foundation of a building meant to withstand a hurricane. His shirt wasn’t even that tight, but it still clung around his biceps when he moved a certain way. And I loved that about Zach. He didn’t feel the need to show himself off, bragging just wasn’t part of his nature. He already had plenty of people flocking to him without him having to put in the extra effort.

Seeing Zach’s muscles move underneath his shirt brought last night’s festivities into my mind again. I paused my eyes on the most delicious recollections. Like the way he gently cupped the bottom of my full breasts as his soft tongue kissed over my sensitive nipples. And I could still feel his warm breath on my neck as he pressed his fingers deep within me. All my senses were awakened last night. My insides began to flutter again with a deep, hungry arousal. I couldn’t shake off the visual of Zach’s back muscles moving and bulging in slow, languid rhythms as he made love to me. I desperately wanted to have him between my thighs again.

“Mmm, babe, this smells so delicious. I don’t know if I can wait for your family, I’m starving.”

“Well, whose fault is it for skipping meals today?”

“I ate breakfast.”

“A protein bar.”

“Listen, I don’t want any other food hindering this belly from being filled to the brim with my wife’s good ‘ol home cookin’.”

I made a doubtful face at him, because I couldn’t even remember the last time Zach ate enough food to be ‘filled to the brim’. But, watching him rub a hand over his stomach while talking about filling his belly up gave me another hot tingle between my thighs. I observed his face intently.

“You promise to fill that belly up?”

“Scouts honor, woman.”

“I’ll hold you to it, then.”

Zach pulled my body into his and slowly ran both hands around my thick waist like a potter would smooth over his precious clay. In all of our years together, Zach has never touched my body as much as he does now. And that’s saying something. He loved wrapping his arms around my soft belly. Especially my lower belly, which started off as just a thick little roll of post baby fat. Well, now it’s grown into a full on paunch.

When I’m extra full, my lower belly protrudes outward like a swollen, over-filled party balloon. With the last 10 lbs or so, my middle began to taper slightly inward near my navel, so I no longer look pregnant. Strangers don’t have to wonder about what’s going on with the bump beneath my clothes. It’s obvious now. Even when not full, my lower belly rounds outward toward the top of my groin. It just hangs out like a ripe and squishy little ball of fat.

My hips and thighs have taken on the brunt of the fat, and I’m pleased about it, to be honest. I love the way I look. I feel powerful and desirable, like a fattened queen who’s been indulged with the most fattening foods and rich chocolates.

Zach pushed the front of his body flat up against mine as he reached for something behind me on the counter. He brought his mouth so close to my cheek that his breathing caused the loose strands around my face to tickle my skin.

“Mmm, you gonna wear those low cut jeans for dinner?”

“Yeah, why?”

I followed his long fingers as they lingered above one of my covered bread baskets. His warm breath still touched my face as he peeled a corner of the cloth back to steal himself a dinner roll. I gave him a playful scorn as I spanked his butt.

“Zachary Davis, answer my question. Why are you asking about my jeans. Do they look bad?”

Zach shook his head no and softly kissed my neck. And just before answering my question, he took a bite out of the roll and turned to walk away.

“Just making sure, that’s all. And 10 out of 10, baby.” He held his bitten dinner roll up in the air and finished his sentence just before disappearing into his office, “You’ve really outdone yourself with the rolls this year.”

I glanced down at my jeans in confusion. They were newer and not high waisted like my others, but I liked the way these hugged my curves. I mean, they’re a little tight, but he’s never cared about that before. If anything, he loves my tight jeans more than the ones that fit right. After my second glance down, I had a ‘aha!’ moment. I had a very noticeable roll that expanded several inches over my waistband. Zach was not referring to my dinner rolls. He was referring to my belly rolls.


Sep 1, 2019
The doorbell rang 10 minutes early, which was right on time for Elizabeth Mattson. My mom’s voice echoed throughout our large front entryway, followed by Zach’s extra friendly voice he saved for the times when he felt most uncomfortable. I knew it was because of Meg’s presence, so I quickly dried my hands and made my way toward the front door to join my family.

About halfway there, I heard a burst of genuine laughter echo off of the walls. I wanted to be part of the fun too, so I attempted to move into a light jog. My feet pounded against the hardwood in loud, heavy thumps. The foreign momentum caused my boobs and belly to jump and wobble in ways I’d never experienced before. Probably because the last time I jogged, I was still a size 2. The fat on my body felt so heavy that it was almost like I was pushing myself against a slow current. My muscles no longer recognized what I was trying to do, and this terrified me. But, oddly enough, it satisfied me even more.

I quickly turned the last corner of my trek, only for my eyes to get violently punched by the afternoon sun shining directly through the front windows. My corneas felt like they were being ripped apart as I blinked my eyelids a thousand times per minute. I knew I looked like a real idiot just standing in the middle of the foyer, blinking, but I couldn’t see clearly. Everything was made up of blurry lines.

A few seconds later, I heard Meg gasp out loud in a dramatic manner. My vision was still blurry, so I couldn’t tell if she was gasping at me, or gasping from the excitement of seeing me. But as she gasped, she also swallowed a heavy gulp of air, causing herself to cough loudly. I saw the blurry outline of her body beat onto her chest like she was trying to force something up. I didn’t know what was going on, but I shielded my eyes from the sun and quickly made my way toward my sister. I was all but a foot away from her when a peppermint flew out of her mouth and onto the hardwood floor.

And even with her near choking experience, my sister still couldn’t shut up. I wasn’t even the least bit surprised, either.

“Oh *cough* Oh *cough* my *cough cough* god *cough*”

No one minded the glossy peppermint at our feet. We just stared at Meg as she coughed and smiled at what looked to be toward me. Zach looked around in confusion and questioned if we should ask if she’s okay. But, nah. Meg was more than okay. In fact, she was straight up enjoying this. Typically a person’s mother is the first one to aid in their child’s distress, but my mom just stared at Meg with her hands on her hips. She had an amused smirk on her red lips as she watched my sister, but her eyes clearly said that she was put out.

Then, at the back of the crowd, a cute little voice squeaked as loud as it could to give off a warning toward everybody else in the room. It was my Ella.

“My Candy!”

She toddled her way through our sea of legs with her little arms outstretched in front of her. Zach and I yelled in unison for her to stop, but she didn’t listen. He swooped Ella up into his arms right before she touched the peppermint, and Ella made it known that she was not happy about the outcome. She thrashed and clawed toward the floor while crying, “Mine, mine! Mine candy!” It was only after Zach promised her some chocolate cake that she quieted herself down.

The room was finally calm enough for me to hug my sister, but when I turned in her direction, Meg was in the process of picking up her spat out peppermint off of the floor. She stood up and inspected both sides carefully, and when she was done, she stuck it back into her mouth. We all voiced our disapproval at Meg while she looked around the group, shrugging at our judgements as if she didn’t understand what the big deal was. She understood. She just didn’t care.

And I didn’t care, either. I was used to her antics. The less attention Meg received, the more normal she acted. Most of the time.

My mom clapped her hands together to direct the attention away from Meg, “Well, I’m starved. Let’s eat, shall we?”

The crowd began to shuffle their feet toward the kitchen, but I stayed behind and waited until everyone was gone before I looked over at my sister. She had a shameless smile planted on her face as she folded her twiggy arms across her flat chest. I wanted to tell Meg that she was ridiculous, but she already knew that. Hell, it’s what she wanted to hear. So I just stared at her, and her at me. The longer the silence went between us, the harder it was for the both of us to suppress our smiles. Meg flared her unusually flexible nostrils until they looked like little cave holes and then she stuck the peppermint between her teeth, so it was in full view again. One thin eyebrow shot up as she looked over the full length of my body with playful, judging eyes. The peppermint quickly disappeared back into her mouth again like it had been sucked up by a vacuum.

“Huh. Well how about that. You hungry, Bee?”

I was about to answer her question with an equally snarky response, but I saw that my mom was headed our way, and she was walking with a mission in mind. Me and Meg expected a full scolding for keeping everyone waiting, but our mom just pointed her finger toward the front door and said, “Forgot the turkey in the car!”

We parted our bodies like the Red Sea so that my mom could get to the front door easier. Without skipping a beat, my mom lightheartedly patted Meg’s shoulder as she walked by and spoke loud enough for only us sisters to hear.

“Meg, baby, work on your introductory presentations. We can’t let you out of the house until you do.”

“Doing my best, just for you mom.” Meg then cocked her head toward the kitchen where everyone was busy filling up their plates. Her eyes were locked on my belly in a very obvious manner, “Well come on baby sis, let’s go get you some food.”

We got our food and gathered around the dining room table located near the front of our house. It was a modern farmhouse table that Zach had custom built for me years ago for my 25th birthday. He designed it himself. I loved gathering around it with my loved ones. Zach even used it for his poker nights with his buddies.

Meg made sure to sit directly across the table from me. I was glad that she did, because I wanted her to ask whatever intrusive questions she had stirring inside of her mind so that we could get past them and move on. But Meg acted alarmingly normal, only making the odd facials at me every once in a while. She spoke a little with my parents and complimented my cooking, but she directed most of her attention toward Penny and Ella.

She ignored Zach entirely, which I’m sure he was thankful for. He just went on about his conversations with everyone like Meg wasn’t even there to potentially bother him. Zach even kept true to his word and filled himself up with my delicious cooking. I watched him eat through three plates huge before calling it quits.

And when he was finally done, Zach gently squeezed my thigh and let out a weak breath. A hand fell over his stomach as he spoke so low that I almost didn’t hear him.

“Baby, I’m so stuffed that I think I broke a rib”

I poked my finger into his stomach and shivered at the tingling that went on inside of my body. His poor belly was so full and tight that I almost felt sorry for him. I had an overwhelming desire to lead him into the bedroom just so I could fuck his brains out. I miss the days of Zach filling his fat belly with so much food that it looked heavy and distended by the time he stood up again. If he could even stand up.

“Well, you cant quit now, Mr. Davis. There’s still dessert to be had.”

Zach brought a quick fist up to his lips to stifle a burp before squinting his eyes in a wince. I watched his hand with much intrigue as he slowly rubbed a sore spot right below his left pectoral. The pulsing between my legs got stronger as he continued to unknowingly taunt me.

I was so turned on that I forgot anyone else was in the room, but Meg’s burning eyes brought me right back down to reality. She heavily shifted in her chair, making it creak, and then continued to glare at me. She knew I was ignoring her. I wasn’t going to be a victim to her staring games. If she wanted to talk, then I’d talk. But anything less than that will simply not do.

Zach ignored Meg entirely as he reached over and rubbed the side of my round belly. My first reaction was to pull away in embarrassment, even though I wanted him to keep touching me. I only felt embarrassed because of Meg’s presence, and acting out of weakness would just give Meg fuel to her fire. So, I closed my eyes and allowed Zach to touch any part of my body he wanted to, belly or no belly.

He tucked a few loose strands behind my ear and whispered quietly enough so that no one else could hear his words.

“Don’t you worry about me, my love. I’ll eat my fair share.”


“But, don’t forget...” Zach’s fingers moved their way toward the ripest part of my lower belly, and after they arrived, he gathered himself a generous handful and gave it a gentle squeeze, “Let’s not forget who we’re fattening up, here. Eat up, baby. I want that belly nice and full by the end of the night.”

I already felt pleasantly full, but I was nowhere near the point of needing to stop. I wrapped my oversized cardigan around my waist and got up to fill my plate again. There was no need to look back, I already knew Meg’s eyes were following me.


Sep 1, 2019
I didn’t take my lips off of the can until every last drop was gone. It was my third Dr. Pepper in less than an hour, and my throat felt like it was on fire. I crushed the can inside of my fist and hiccuped out loud. My mom turned around from wiping off the counters and looked at me behind her set of readers.

“You okay?”

“(hiccup) Yeah, I’m fine mom. (hiccup)”

“Well, you don’t look fine.”

“Just ate too much. I’m fine. (hiccup)”

My mom didn’t believe me at all. She took her readers off and looked at me with normal sized eyes this time. I tried to hide my next hiccup behind a closed mouth, but the hiccup forced my mouth to open abruptly, making me squeak out an even louder hiccup.

“Brooke, go sit down. I’ll finish up in here.”

I waited until my mom went back to her cleaning before I grabbed another Dr. Pepper off the counter and cut myself a huge piece of chocolate cake. Instead of sitting on the couch, I took my goods back into my bedroom to eat them in secret. I had never felt the need to eat in secret before, but I didn’t want my family to worry about me. Even I knew I was getting out of hand, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.

My belly was bloated with so much food and soda that it bounced with every step I took as I plodded toward my bedroom. When I reached safely behind my door, I immediately unbuttoned my jeans and cracked open the can of Dr. Pepper. I closed my eyes and drank as much as I could before needing to take a breath. A whole minute passed before I was ready to chug some more. It’d gotten easier with practice. A burp escaped my mouth before I even felt it coming up. Thank god it happened while I was alone, because that would for sure cause some questions from my mom.

I decided the best way to go about finishing quickly was to just chug my soda like a freaking maniac. I pretended like I was in the middle of a life or death situation and chugged the rest of it gone until not even a drop was left. I patted the side of my belly as a few more burps came up. My god, I felt fatter than a house. I carried my cake into the bathroom to check out the damage, and my eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when I saw myself in the mirror. I was a butter ball. Fucking huge...which I knew already, but seeing it is different than feeling it.

Fucking. Huge.

My upper belly was curved outward in a way I’d never seen before. It felt sore and tight underneath my fingers. I slapped my lower belly and watched it jiggle in the mirror. It swelled straight out in front of me without any fold to my hips at all. Well, Zach did say that he wanted my belly nice and fat for tonight, so I’m not quitting until every inch of my belly is filled.

I didn’t even realize it until I looked at myself in the mirror agin, but I was smiling. What the fuck had I done to myself.

I stuffed such a big piece of chocolate cake into my mouth that I couldn’t even close it all the way as chewed. I stuffed my mouth full with each bite so that it was gone in less than half the bites it should have taken me to eat it. I even scooped the remaining icing up with my finger until there was literally nothing left on my plate. I was out of control and I didn’t even care. I knew I was just going to get fatter as time went by, too. Especially over Christmas. Zach had taunted me about it for weeks now. I probably wouldn’t even be able to fit into my jeans by The New Year. I can’t even imagine what my body will look like with even more weight added to my frame, but I’ll be much fatter than this, that’s for damn sure.

And just thinking about it made me get so wet in between my thighs.


Sep 1, 2019
- 29 -


The wooden stairs creaked heavily beneath my footing as I stepped off the last step and onto the main floor of my home. I chuckled to myself as I pictured the imaginary bullfrog, Mr. Froggy, living just beneath the paneling of the first wooden step. At least, that’s what Penny claimed. She created Mr. Froggy over the summer when the creaking of the step proved to be unavoidable. She said he only croaked when our footing became too loud for him to enjoy his TV shows in peace. Since then, I couldn’t help but to visualize an angry Mr. Froggy shaking his fist at me each time I stepped onto his old wooden roof. Penny’s imagination ran wild just like her momma’s did, and I encouraged every bit of it. It would serve both of my girls well if they inherited Brooke’s creativity rather than my own. I was a corporate lawyer, for crying out loud. For 7 years, I busted my ass in college just so that I could read documents for a living. That should tell you everything you needed to know about my creativity.

I double checked the locks on our doors as I made my nightly rounds throughout the downstairs. Over the years, I’d accepted the fact that I would be the only adult in our house to ever care about the utility bill. So, each night, I made sure that all of the light switches, minus a few dimly lit lamps, were turned off before going to bed. Brooke was terrible about not turning the lights off. I viewed it as one of those things that would probably never change. Might as well just accept it instead of causing a hundred fights over it. I stopped scolding Brooke about the issue years ago, after I embarrassed myself during a Christmas breakfast with her parents.

It was our 3rd Christmas together as a married couple, long after the honeymoon phase had ended. I casually informed Brooke that she had left the kitchen light on after watching a movie the night before. She shrugged me off, so I cited her the same speech my dad always gave to me as a kid. Brooke still didn’t respond to me, she just continued on with eating her breakfast like I wasn’t even talking. An outsider could have easily mistaken Brooke as deaf due to her lack of response. But, I knew she had heard me. I could tell by the way she stared at me as if I had three heads growing out of my neck. And in my early marital ignorance, I decided to press her on the matter in front of her parents instead of waiting until we had a minute alone. I pointed out that she should just walk her stubborn, lazy ass the few extra steps to flip the light switches off instead of running up our bill. In return, Brooke pointed her finger in the direction of the couch and not so kindly informed me that I would be sleeping there later that night. And really, I never minded sleeping on the couch. That thing was comfortable. I made sure that the couch would serve as a good sleeping alternative before I even bought it.

So, that night, after everyone else had gone to sleep in the house, I laid quietly on the couch, tucked comfortably underneath my covers. I had my eyes closed, hoping to fade away into dreamland quickly, when all of a sudden, the kitchen light clicked on. Not the dim lighting located underneath the cabinetry. No, it was the main kitchen light, the one that shone so bright that it was offensive to the eyes when used at night, especially to someone trying to sleep in the adjoining room.

I sat up to get a better view of the person in the kitchen, and that’s when I saw Brooke. She was in the process of pouring herself a glass of water. When she was done, she brought the full glass up to her lips and carefully turned her body to face me square on in the living room. She looked amused when she noticed me sitting up, and that’s when she let out a very loud and exaggerated ‘ahh’ before smacking her lips to signify her satisfaction. Then, without saying a word to me, Brooke walked right past the light switch and made her way back into the bedroom again. I foolishly waited for Brooke to return, but she never did. Eventually, I had to get up to turn the light off myself, and that’s when I saw a note taped to the counter right underneath the light switch. It said, ‘Next time, don’t be an ass wipe. Enjoy the couch.’ I did enjoy the couch until about 7am the next morning, when Brooke decided to cook a nice breakfast for everybody. To this day, I don’t think I have ever heard her bang around in the kitchen as loudly as she did that morning. And even after the countless breakfasts together, I could never forget the way she looked at me as she sweetly asked how my breakfast tasted. Fresh skin, messy bun, one knee to her chest with the neck of my sweater hanging off the side of her shoulder. All past transgressions from the prior morning were forgotten in Brooke’s eyes, once she was able to get me back in a way that felt justifiable to her.

The doors and lights were all in check, so I grabbed the box of cookies sitting on the counter and made my way toward the master bedroom where Brooke was waiting for me. I had just a few more steps in the corridor before entering into the foyer, when out of no where, Meg stepped directly in front of my body, blocking my path completely. There was no telling how long she had been in the house, or how she even entered to begin with. But, judging by the smug look on her face, she didn’t see her presence as a problem.

Meg breathed deeply and hugged her coat tightly to her chest as she raised one of her stupid little eyebrows at me.

“Hey brother, I forgot my coat.”

“How did you get into the house?”

“Well, I am family. And family should always be welcomed. Brother.”

“In a perfect word, sure. Did you take the spare key?”

“Mmmyep! You know, for someone who is terrified of intruders, Brooke sure does suck at hiding spare keys outside. Here ya go. You may want to find a different hiding place though, because next time, I’m keeping it for myself.”

“Thanks. G’night.” I motioned toward the door with the swipe of my arm, but Meg didn’t budge. Instead, she nodded toward the cookies like she was just noticing them for the first time.

“Who are those for, brother?”

“Me and Brooke. Now seriously, cut it out with the games, Meg. It’s late.”

“Obviously not too late if you plan on eating cookies, right?”

“Well, the great thing about being an adult is you can do whatever it is that your little adult heart pleases. So, off you go.” I swiped my arm in the direction of the front door again, but still no movement.

“Okay, but before I go, answer me this...” Meg paused and looked at me with a shitty, all-knowing smirk. “Are those cookies for you and Brooke to eat and enjoy together, or are they for Brooke to eat while you just enjoy feeding them to her...Because she’s looking a liiiiitle.......fat.”

Meg blew her cheeks out and curved her arms forward to emphasize her last point. I didn’t answer the accusation. Instead, I forcefully pushed my way past her and opened the front door. Luckily, Meg followed, but as soon as she reached the door frame, she spun around and twisted her face at me in furry.

“Oh, come on, Zach. It’s obvious what you’re doing. Just man up and admit it already. You’re making my little sister fat on purpose. I bet you just love to feed and fuck her, don’t ya-”

The door slammed in Meg’s face before she had the chance to call me ‘brother’ again. I quickly locked the deadbolt behind me and headed toward the bedroom, opening Brooke’s box of cookies along the way.


Sep 1, 2019
Brooke’s jeans were completely undone as she laid flat on her back on top of our bed. She looked like a vulnerable pregnant woman, swollen and stretched with a baby and ready to give birth. Her belly rounded up high into the space above her, looking especially hard after today’s feast. But, there was no baby in there to be birthed. That was the belly of a glutton, fattened up with thousands of excess calories and with no true will to stop.

I remember it all very well. The feeling of stuffing my stomach past its limit, knowing I had no more room to spare, only to take another bite. And then another. And then another...and not stopping until my breathing became so shallow that at times, I felt like I couldn’t take in enough air for my lungs to get their proper fill.

She weakly brought her hand to the bottom of her belly and pressed in ever so carefully with her palm. A happy, defeated sigh escaped her lips as she rubbed back and forth over her tender skin. She attempted to shift into a different position, and I don’t know what position she had in mind, because she was only able to move an inch, if that. The extra weight Brooke put on recently had gone straight to her belly. And tonight, in her stuffed state, her hungriness to please me was stupidly obvious.

It made me anxious seeing Brooke this way, this complaisant. There wasn’t even a trace of regret on her face as she laid there, too uncomfortable and full to move. In fact, she seemed very pleased with herself. That scared me the most. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would be this easy to get her to let loose. Never. My greatest fear in all of this was the possibility of Brooke hating her body for all she had done to it. Or what I had done to it.

When Brooke agreed to keep her extra baby weight on for 2 years, I was shocked. Especially after the scale kept on ticking upward throughout her pregnancy. Last Christmas, when Brooke causally mentioned letting loose a little, I expected nothing more than a 25-30 pound gain during her entire two years. I figured it would be just enough to get her looking good and plump, you know? Boy, was I wrong. She flew passed the plump stage by late summer.

Which was why I basically salivated at the mouth when Brook offered me complete control over the last year of her contract. She was already curvy and filled out, and I would have died a happy man if she decided to stay that size forever. But, you know how the saying goes. If you give a mouse a cookie...

Even with the control, I still expected Brooke to give me push back for at least part of the time. She was a terrible subordinate, toward me, anyway, and was used to calling the shots and being in control. I knew from the start of our relationship that Brooke was feisty and stubborn, so it was no surprise that she also liked to be the one in charge. My buddies labeled me early on in our relationship as being, uh, pussy-whipped. A tad extreme, though not entirely untrue.

The point being, Brooke had not resisted a damn thing.

And to be honest, I needed the pushback. I needed her to tell me to back off a little, or a lot, especially with the rate she’d been gaining weight. Either Brooke ate way more than I was aware of, or her metabolism had gone to shit, because her body seemed to store fat a lot quicker than it had before. Don’t get me wrong, it landed in all the right places. She looked like a knockout with the extra curviness and fluff to her. I loved it, and Brooke didn’t seem to mind, either. But would she always feel that way? It was a battle I encountered every day with my good shoulder angel and my bad shoulder angel, and they never seemed to stop picking at my brain.

There was one thing I have become certain on: Brooke was not thinking about the future. Her metabolism would only get slower with weight and age, and she acted unfazed by the unforgiving fat cells developing inside of her body. Losing the weight would not be easy, if she even chose to lose the weight.

Sometimes, I had the feeling that Brooke was only doing this for me. Nothing jumped out and told me so, but I couldn’t help but to feel it. My wife getting fat? It seemed too good to be true. It was only supposed to happen in my hottest fantasy...The one where Brooke never stopped feeding and indulging that body of hers. Back when Brooke was still hardly over a buck-twenty, I used to lotion up to the visual of her fat belly ballooning out from the bottom of her shirt while she laid helplessly on top of our bed, moaning and lazily fattening herself on food.

She’s still got a long way to go until then, but every passing day where I was in control, my fantasy inched that much closer toward becoming a reality. Which raised a few very real questions that I needed to find the answers to: If current Brooke ever became as fat as my fantasy Brooke, would I want her to stop there? Would she want to stop there? And, would I truly be okay with her getting that big in real life?

It got confusing when I had to navigate between my sexual fantasies and my real life desires. Was there a line somewhere? Surely Brooke would speak up if she felt disappointed in herself, or if she felt that I had gone too far...

But so far, I’ve heard nothing of that matter, so why would I ruin a fun time by worrying myself over nothing? Brooke’s happiness has always been my greatest priority, and if she seemed pleased with herself, then I should forget about my unfounded worries and support her no matter what. Because preventing Brooke from indulging herself would be a major overstep on my part. I had no right.

One of Brooke’s satiated moans caught my attention faster than a sizzling grenade.


“Yeah, love.”

“Come here and poke my belly. I’m so fucking full right now that I can’t even move.”

My brain felt hot, like at any moment, I would burst into flames by the fuel of my inner desire and greed. Was it my conscience that was burning? I didn’t know, but it was the closest I’d ever been to becoming nothing but a pile of ash and bone. I was in too deep with this thing, my desires, and I couldn’t stop now. I wouldn’t stop now. I had to finish what I had started.

I didn’t take my eyes off of Brooke for even a second as I made my way over to her on the bed. My balls were achy and sensitive from being aroused all evening long, and I was desperate to be inside of her. I wanted to make love to my wife until I released every last drop of my seed into her womanhood. Watching Brooke lose control of herself took my arousal to a level I didn’t know how to control. I wanted to claim her and take what I knew was mine.

Brooke eyed me with timid, make-believe shame as she revealed her belly to me. Slowly, she lifted her shirt up until the bottom hem rested just above her perfectly rounded breasts. Her pale skin looked like it was pulled uncomfortably tight, making the new group of tiny stretch marks just below her navel stand out like red pen on paper. After tonight, she’d probably have even more.

Brooke spoke again in nothing but a hushed whisper, “Poke it, I said.”

Before I could follow command, Brooke wrapped her hand over mine and pulled it down to the highest peak of her belly. A drawn out groan sounded from her throat as soon as our skin made contact. Good god, she was full. She bit on her lower lip and took in deep, relaxing breaths as I slowly felt my way around her navel, which sat between two perfect fields of swollen flesh. There was absolutely no give as I slid my hands over her poor, distended sides. Each time I reached the curve, Brooke whimpered softly, helplessly, like she had been fattened up in her weakness for my own carnal pleasure. Those gluttonous whimpers did me right in. My ears burned with heat and perked up each time they heard her sexy cry. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“You said you wanted me nice and full tonight, and, well...” Brooke patted the side of her belly and smiled at me with plump, rosy cheeks. They filled her face out perfectly, not to the point of over taking, but just enough to make their fattened presence known. Her little nose and full lips looked like they were made to pair along with a chubby, beautiful face.

Truth be told, Brooke looked more stunning now than she ever had before. Her face reminded me of the sunshine. Maybe it was all that golden hair. But, in the years that I’d known her, her ocean blue eyes never lost their brilliance. They shaped in a doe-like roundness, giving Brooke a natural advantage for looking youthful and innocent. Deceiving, because she was anything but innocent. This woman’s mischievous streak kept me in a continual loop of wonder. It amused me how Brooke managed to have all the outsiders fooled with her quiet, reserved tongue. Especially the older folks in my company. They’d grab Brooke’s hand and fawn over her, saying, “Oh, your wife is just darling!” Or, “She is such a sweet young lady, you are lucky to have her.” Lucky, yes, but sweet she was not.

I absolutely loved that about her, though. She was impossible to place a finger on. I had met many people in my life, but never anyone like Brooke Davis. So predictable, but yet, the most unpredictable. That’s why I was so drawn to her. What you saw was not what you got. There was the mystery, the craze and the slight uneasiness of the unknown. I knew her submissive, quiet tongue in public was just a way for her to get through the crowds unseen. She hated to be the center of public attention. But during her quietness, no one but me knew the real Brooke. The Brooke who fucked me so good that she made my toes curl and my eyes water in the midst of my most intense orgasms. The Brooke who unraveled my cool, calm semblance until it turned manic, unsettled, and deranged.


Sep 1, 2019
“What’s on your mind, Mr. Davis...why are you looking at me like that?” A set of perfectly polished nails trailed up and down my forearm as Brooke studied my face closely. I chuckled at her seriousness and kissed her furrowed brow before sliding my tired bones down next to her on the bed.

“You’re on my mind, woman. Always. Cookie?”

“You’re a sly little boot licker, aren’tcha? And yes, gimme one.”

“I can’t help it if I find you so sexy that I gotta think about you all the time.”


“Hell yeah, baby. Do you know me at all?”

“Oh, I know you, mister. Too well.”

“Well, then you should know that the reason I stare is because you are incredibly beautiful...”


“...Even lovelier than the first day we met. Unlike me, I’m just a horny old man who will have grey hairs sprouting from the old chestaroo before you know it.”

“Nothin’ better than having a good ‘ol fuck with an AARP member. Or at least, that’s what I’ve always heard.”

“You are something else, woman.”

“I know.”

Brooke reached above her head to stretch her body out just like a fat lounge cat does right before a good nap. “And right now, your woman wants you to take her jeans off. They’re a bit restrictive after today’s feast-ivities.”

“Gladly. Anything else?”

“Yes, cookie.”

I handed Brooke another cookie and shimmied the tight jeans down her limbs like they were a second pair of skin. There was a bit of a struggle when I had to expand them over the width of her fattened hips...her deliciously soft, pillowy, womanly hips. Her jeans were so tight that they left a detailed stamp right below the fattened swell of her lower belly. My cock pulsed immediately.

Brooke’s mouth turned upward into a playful, knowing grin as she ran her palm along the outline of my hardened shaft. It throbbed unashamedly and impatiently with every touch she gave. A naughty laugh sounded from her throat just as I felt myself falling backwards onto the bed, and within seconds, she had me straddled underneath one of her delicious thick-thigh sandwiches.

Brooke grabbed her own cookie this time and chewed happily while still straddling my hips. She leaned forward and lowered herself until her arms supported her upper body on the mattress. Each time she inched closer, her milky breasts moved ahead of the rest of her, forcing themselves dangerously close to my tempted, hungry mouth. Brooke stopped just an inch from my ear, pausing for several long seconds before deciding to move again. I moaned in my arousal as I kneaded the side of her billowed hips while she filled the space between us with her full belly. She was so close that her breathing came out hot and rhythmic against my neck. The faint scent of cookies and her shampoo-mint and pineapple- filled up inside of my nose.

Just as I was about to suck on one of her milky breasts, Brooke whispered something that was so dangerous, it sent a deviant thrill throughout my entire body. A thrill deeply rooted in the pith of my own fear and arousal. Was I aroused because of my fear, or was I fearful of my arousal? I couldn’t say, honestly. But whatever the case, I wish she hadn’t of said it, because I knew I would never be able to un-hear her words for the rest of my time on earth.

“I can’t stop eating. The fatter you make me, the hornier I become.”

“You’re playing with dangerous fire, my love.”

“Blaze, boom, baby.”


Jan 4, 2007
Corey, I hope you're OK through the pandemic and plan on continuing this wonderful story. The last several chapters have been wonderful!


New Member
Jan 22, 2021
Montreal, QC, Canada
I’m another person who registered only to reply to this thread.
I’ve been loving this story! It’s so incredibly well written, it could be published.

I’ve had so much mental issues my whole life (and from you writing I could tell you did, too), so I hope you’re hanging on and taking care of yourself.

If you ever feel like finishing this story, I’ll be looking forward to it. All your characters are so well developed and deeply human, you’ve got me hooked.


New Member
Jan 14, 2021
Another fan out from the shadows to praise your brilliant story. Excellent character development. So hot!
I hope you’re taking good care of yourself and also planning to return with more of the story. Thanks for such a fun read.


New Member
Jun 17, 2017
, Female
Honestly, I've been a member of so many sites like this for so long and this is the BEST story I have ever read ever. 100%. Thank you for this story. I cannot wait to read more. I hope your MH is improving - take care of yourself.


Jan 4, 2007
Gotta agree. Corey, I hope you're doing better. You have all our support. You are a very talented storyteller, and I"m looking forward to more of this when you are able.

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