THE FRIENDSGIVING FEAST (SSBBW, FEEDEE, STUFFING)

The kitchen was sweltering, it was a small and humid space overwhelmed by the heat of the oven and the chaos of a Friendsgiving feast in preparation. The air was thick with the smells of butter, roasted turkey, bubbling cheese, and sweet marshmallows melting over a layer of sugary sweet potato casserole. Every counter was packed with trays, pots, and bowls. The table already groaning under the weight of dishes waiting to be served.

Rebecca shuffled from counter to stove, her heavy, wide body taking up nearly every inch of space in the narrow kitchen. Her fiery red hair, damp with sweat, stuck to her flushed, freckled face, which was glistening with a sheen of exertion. She hadn’t had a chance to shower, let alone change into anything remotely presentable. Instead, her thick, plush figure was encased in a pair of overstretched yoga pants and a black sports bra that barely contained the swell of her heavy chest. The waistband of her leggings were pulled up high over her belly, which bulged against the fabric, forming a deep indentation across the middle and causing her belly to seperate into two distinct rolls creating a "B" shape. Her pale skin was marked with stretch marks that spread like rivers over her stomach, chest, and arms, the faint reddish-purple lines glistening with sweat in the dim light.

Her arms, thick and doughy, swayed and jiggled with every motion as she stirred, lifted, and adjusted the pans on the stove. Her forearms were dotted with faint bruises from bumping into the counter throughout the day. Her wide and pillowy upper arms seemed to take on a life of their own whenever she moved. Her legs, heavy and column-like, filled every inch of her leggings, the fabric straining at the knees and calves where the flesh thickened and dimpled. Her feet were stuffed into her old house slippers, were swollen and red, the straps pressing deep into the puffy skin causing slight indentations.

She groaned as she bent over to check the turkey in the oven, her belly pressing against her thighs and making her movements even slower and more awkward than usual. The turkey was massive—golden brown and stuffed to the brim with savory bread stuffing. The heat rushed out as she opened the oven, adding another layer of sweat to her already drenched body.

This bird weighs more than I did in high school,” Rebecca chuckled breathlessly, struggling to pull the roasting pan out. The effort causing her arms to tremble, the soft, doughy flesh swaying violently as she hauled the heavy pan onto the counter with a loud thud. Her chest heaved with exertion, her breathing shallow and quick. She leaned heavily against the counter, the edge pressing into her belly as she caught her breath. She was too tired to notice that the waistband of her yoga pants had rolled down slightly revealing her damp stretchmarked covered skin. She wiped at her face absentmindedly, only to pause when her fingers brushed against the sticky pool of sweat gathering beneath her chin. Her face twisted in disgust.

“Ugh,” she muttered while shifting uncomfortably. Rebecca then pressed her hand to her flushed cheeks, feeling the heat radiate from her skin. Unable to bear the sticky sensation any longer, she waddled toward the bathroom, her thighs rubbing together audibly, making a swishing noise with each step. Her labored breaths echoed softly in the hallway, punctuated by quiet grumbles about how hot it was.

Inside the bathroom, she leaned against the sink, groaning softly as she splashed cold water on her face refreshing her overheated skin. Glancing up, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and winced.

Her face was flushed and shiny, her round cheeks bulging slightly over her jawline. Her freckles, scattered across her nose and cheeks, seemed to stand out more against the redness of her skin. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, pausing as her fingers brushed against the folds of her neck, slick with sweat. Grimacing, she muttered, “God, my face looks fat,”

She reached for a rag on the counter and wiped the remaining sweat from her face and then lifted her arm, and with deliberate strokes, she dragged the cool, minty-scented fabric across her skin, her lips parting in relief as she wiped away the sweat from her armpits that were covered in damp, matted ginger hair.

“God why is it so damn hot?” she protested before tossing the rag onto the floor. She then began leaning heavily against the counter once more. Her chest still heaved as she caught her breath, sweat continuing to bead on her skin.

Her legs felt like they were on fire as she waddled back into the kitchen after catching her breath, the friction from her thick thighs rubbing together making every step a struggle. While her sports bra clung to her like a second skin, the fabric was damp sweat and digging into the soft rolls of her back.

She shuffled back to the stove, her swollen feet dragging slightly with each step. Her belly jiggled heavily against her waistband, the motion setting off a chain reaction that caused her hips and thighs to wobble as well. She reached for a spoon and dipped it into the pot of bubbling gravy, lifting it to her lips for a quick taste. “Needs more salt,” she mumbled, grabbing the shaker and adding a generous sprinkle before tasting it again. Her stomach growled loudly, the sound echoing in the quiet kitchen as she licked the spoon clean.

Rebecca turned her attention to the sweet potato casserole that was set beside the turkey. The marshmallows had melted into a golden, caramelized crust, and the scent made her mouth water. She dipped her finger into the corner, scooping out a small, gooey bite and popping it into her mouth. The sweetness hit her instantly, and she closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the flavor.

The minutes ticked by, and Rebecca could feel herself growing more panicked. She was running behind, and there was still so much to do. She hadn’t even started plating the macaroni and cheese, and the rolls were still in the oven. She reached for the tray of cookies and grabbed one, shoving it into her mouth as she moved toward the stove. Her stomach growled again, louder this time, as if protesting the small bites she had been sneaking throughout the day. The sound made her pause, her hand resting on her middle as she felt the tightness of her waistband pressing into her skin.

The door creaked open behind Rebecca which startled her, she quickly tried to shift her body to see who it was as her knees trembled slightly from the hours of standing causing her quick turn to be more akward than she intended. It was her boyfriend Michael entering the kitchen. He carried a precarious stack of three pies—apple, blueberry, and pumpkin—balanced expertly in his strong hands. His grin spread wide, playful yet commanding, as he stepped inside and carefully set them down on the counter.

Rebecca waddled over greeting him and hugged him tightly. She then turned over to inspect the deserts Michael brought in her, stomach quivering slightly with the motion. “Those look so good,” she said excitedly, “But three pies? Isn’t that a little overkill?”

Michael raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he wiped his hands on his jeans. Before she could say anything more, Rebecca glanced back at the pies and let a sly, clumsy smile spread across her flushed face. “But I guess we can use one of those later, if ya know what I mean?” she said, her voice dropping into a sultry tone. She winked, the gesture awkward yet undeniably endearing.

Michael’s chuckle rumbled low in his throat as he stepped closer to her, his eyes darkening with a sharper, more intent warmth. “You’re really something else,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, the words carrying a weight that made her shiver. His gaze trailed over her, lingering in a way that sent a flush of heat through her already sweaty skin.

Her sports bra, saturated with perspiration, molded itself to the contours of her back, accentuating the soft creases that formed with each subtle shift of her body. His gaze dropped to her yoga pants, stretched snugly over the generous curve of her stomach. The waistband bit firmly into her midsection, creating a distinct separation between the upper swell of her belly and the heavy, pendulous lower half that rested inside the fabric. With each labored breath, the lower roll quivered slightly, its weight adding a mesmerizing rhythm to her every movement.

“Look at you,” he said softly, his voice laced with something that made her stomach flutter. His hand lifted, hovering just above her belly, as though debating whether to touch. “It’s... mesmerizing,” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly over the taut fabric, tracing the indent where the waistband pressed into her skin. His touch lingered there, pressing just enough to make her gasp softly. "You make it impossible to focus on anything else.”

Rebecca’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as his words and touch sent a wave of heat rolling through her.

“Looks like you’re almost done,” Michael added, his tone soothing yet firm.

Rebecca groaned softly. “Almost done?” she repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Try completely done. I feel like I’ve been cooking for days.” Her fingers fidgeted with the waistband of her leggings, trying in vain to pull them higher over her lower belly.

“By the way, what time did you tell everyone to arrive?” she asked, her voice weary as she reached for the water bottle beside her. She paused, taking a long sip, droplets trickling down her chins and over her chest.

Michael stepped closer, the playful grin on his face shifting into something darker. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs brushing over the soft flesh there. “That’s the thing,” his voice dropping into a seductive growl. “No one’s coming.”

Rebecca froze, her water bottle slipping slightly from her grip. “What?” she asked as she turned her wide, freckled face toward him with a puzzled expression. Her soft cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red.

Michael's hands slid down her arms, their gentle weight grounding her as his voice dropped even lower. “It’s just you and me tonight babe,” he said, the words dripping with intent. “This feast? It’s all for you.”

Rebecca’s stomach growled loudly in the silence that followed, the sound filling the small kitchen. She looked away, her lips trembling with a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation. “Michael…” she began, but he interrupted her, his fingers digging lightly into her soft shoulders.

“You’ve worked so hard today, babe,” he said, his voice firm yet teasing. “You’ve earned this. You deserve every single bite.”

His hands moved to her sides, sliding under the waistband of her leggings. The tight fabric clung stubbornly to her damp, swollen body, the elastic digging deep into her soft skin. Michael tugged gently, then harder, his grip tightening as he struggled to pull the leggings over her wide hips. “Damn, these things are on tight,” he muttered, a laugh escaping his lips as he worked them down inch by inch.

As the waistband slipped lower, it left behind a red, indented outline on Rebecca’s belly, tracing where the elastic had pressed tightly into her soft skin. Her lower belly spilled out, heavy and pale, its surface covered in stretch marks that shone faintly in the kitchen light. The plush flesh quivered with every slight movement, the rolls deepening as Michael carefully peeled the leggings down over her hips. His hands moved with deliberate care, sliding down her thick, dimpled thighs as he worked the fabric lower. The motion sent subtle ripples through her flesh, mesmerizing in their rhythm. He crouched slightly, his hands traveling further down to her calves, where he paused, his fingers sinking gently into the warm, pliant softness, lingering as though savoring the moment.

Rebecca stood still, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths as Michael straightened, his hands gliding slowly back up her thighs to her middle. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as though savoring every moment. Reaching around her, his palms slid over the soft expanse of her belly, his fingers sinking slightly into the warm, pliant flesh.

With a gentle motion, he lifted her stomach. He raised an eyebrow and questioned her with a teasing smirk, "Commando?" The unexpected question made her cheeks flush a deep shade of red, and she quickly looked away, stammering an embarrassed reply that didn't quite form into words. Undeterred, he continued lifting and kneading her massive belly as he inspected her fuzzy ginger FUPA. The weight of her belly pressed heavily into his hands, its warmth and softness overwhelming his senses. The intimate act sent an involuntary shiver through her, her breath hitching as she felt his touch against such a sensitive area. Her body instinctively leaned closer, drawn to the surprising tenderness of his gesture despite the vulnerability of the moment. She felt exposed but strangely comforted, her emotions a swirling mix of embarrassment and thrill.

Michael made his way behind Rebecca, his hands moved deftly to the clasp of her sports bra, his fingers brushing lightly against her damp back as he worked to unhook it. The straps had bitten into her shoulders, leaving faint red impressions on her skin, and the saturated fabric clung stubbornly. “This thing’s soaked,” he murmured, his tone a mix of amusement and quiet admiration as he finally freed the clasp. The bra slipped to the floor, leaving Rebecca bare and vulnerable under his gaze.

Her full, heavy breasts settled naturally against the curve of her upper belly, their pale, freckled skin flushed from the lingering heat of the kitchen. Michael's eyes lingered, his expression softening as he took in every detail, his hands resting lightly on her sides, grounding her in the moment.

Rebecca didn’t attempt to cover herself; she let him look, his gaze devouring every inch of her body with a hunger that made her chest tighten and her skin tingle. Her breaths came shallow and uneven, her chest rising and falling visibly as Michael’s hands rested on her hips, his touch steady and grounding. She felt exposed yet electrified, a strange mix of vulnerability and anticipation coursing through her.

After a lingering moment, Michael leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against her flushed cheek before stepping back. “Wait here,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. Rebecca blinked, confused, as he turned and walked toward the hallway. She stood frozen, her body tingling with curiosity and unease as she listened to the sound of his footsteps retreating into the next room.

A moment later, he returned, holding something that made her stomach twist—a sleek, digital scale. The glossy surface gleamed under the kitchen lights, and her eyes widened as she realized what it was. Her cheeks, already red, darkened further as she instinctively stepped back, her soft belly jiggling with the motion.

“Michael, no,” she whined, her voice trembling with embarrassment.

He grinned, his tone a mixture of teasing and quiet authority. “Come on, baby,” he coaxed, his voice low and deliberate, as though daring her to defy him. He took a step closer, the intensity in his eyes making her pulse race.

Rebecca’s breath hitched, her hesitation clear in the way her fingers fidgeted nervously at her sides, brushing over the soft flesh of her belly. “Michael…” she whispered, but Michaels unwavering expression told her this wasn’t a suggestion—it was a demand.

Swallowing hard, she shuffled forward, the sleek digital scale gleaming ominously beneath her. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she stepped on, the cold surface pressing into the soles of her swollen feet. She exhaled shakily as the numbers began to flicker, her body tensing with each passing second. The room seemed to close in around her, her heart pounding in her chest as the flickering display taunted her.

Finally, the numbers stopped: 398.

Rebecca’s eyes widened as the reality of the number settled over her. Before she could fully process it, Michael’s hands slid around her middle from behind, his warm palms pressing into her belly. She gasped softly as his fingers sank into the soft, pliant flesh, gripping it with a deliberate firmness. With a teasing grin, he gave her belly a playful jiggle, sending ripples through her skin.

“Hmm,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement and something deeper. “Wow.. you’re almost 400 pounds…”

His words sent a shiver through her, the mix of embarrassment and excitement making her cheeks flush even deeper. She bit her lip, her breath coming in shallow bursts as his hands lingered, squeezing gently, as if to confirm the reality of the number the scale displayed.

Her stomach churned with embarrassment, and she looked away, her hands twitching at her sides. “Babe…” she murmured, her voice filled with shame.

Michael stepped closer, his hands sliding around her waist to rest on the curve of her belly. “Perfect,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Absolutely perfect.”

He guided her toward the table, his hands never leaving her body. She sank into the chair he pulled out for her, the wood creaking under her weight as her wide hips spread against the seat. Her belly rested heavily on her thighs, and she fidgeted nervously as Michael began arranging the dishes in front of her, one by one.

Her stomach growled loudly again, the sound breaking the tension in the room. Michael’s grin widened, a glint of mischief lighting up his eyes. “Sounds like someone’s hungry,” he teased, his voice smooth and playful, his hands still resting on her soft belly. “don’t worry, we'll take care of that.”

He gave her stomach another gentle jiggle, the motion sending ripples through her soft flesh and a wave of heat coursing through her body. His touch lingered, deliberate and teasing, his fingers kneading her skin with a confidence that made her breath catch.

Without a word he guided her towards the dining room table, then commanded her to sit before walking back into the kitchen. Rebecca sat completely bare on the dining chair, her figure spreading naturally against the simple wooden seat. Her belly poured forward, full and unrestrained, its weight pressing onto her thick thighs. The soft skin was marked with faint lines that caught the dim light, its surface flushed and warm from the heat of the room. Each steady breath sent a subtle shudder through the mass, the movement almost hypnotic in its rhythm. Her wide hips seemed to test the limits of the chair, her rounded thighs pressing together as they spread slightly under her weight, their surface smooth and faintly dimpled. Her heavy chest rested low against her upper belly rolls, the gentle sway of her breasts accentuating her every shift. Rebecca fidgeted lightly, her fingers curling over her lap as she glanced up at Michael as he confidently walked in, her eyes a mix of hesitation and longing.

Michael’s footsteps echoed softly on the floor as he approached, his towering presence commanding the room. He lingered for a moment, letting his gaze roam over her with an intensity that made her heart race. Rebecca shifted slightly, her breath catching in anticipation, the faint creak of the chair the only sound as the silence stretched between them.

The table was now overflowing with dishes—sweet potato casserole topped with golden marshmallows, creamy mashed potatoes drenched in glistening gravy, savory stuffing, a basket of warm dinner rolls and, at the center, the turkey, its golden-brown skin gleaming like the centerpiece of a feast. Without a word, Michael reached for a plate, piling it high with portions so generous they seemed almost impossible.

He set the plate in front of her with deliberate care, his eyes glinting with dark amusement as they locked onto hers. “Let’s see how far we can push that greedy little belly of yours.” he said, his voice low and sadistic, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “You’re going to make me proud tonight right baby?

Rebecca swallowed hard, her stomach growling loudly in response. “Yes, Daddy,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of submission and hunger.

Michael smirked, leaning down to place a fork in her hand. “Good girl,” he murmured.

Rebecca hesitated for only a moment before shoveling a bite of sweet potato casserole into her mouth. The warm, sugary sweetness melted on her tongue, and her eyes fluttered closed as she moaned softly. She barely had time to chew before Michael reached for a roll, slathered it with butter, and held it to her lips.

“Open,” he commanded, holding it to her face. Rebecca obeyed without hesitation, her lips parting as she bit into it greedily. The buttery, roll filled her mouth, and she moaned softly as she chewed, crumbs of bread

She then went back to her plate and dug in with gusto, gravy smudging her lips and occasionally falling onto her chest. Her breathing grew heavier with every bite, her chest rising and falling as the exertion and indulgence overwhelmed her senses as she finished her monumental plate of food.

Michael’s eyes never left her, his gaze fixed on the way her belly pushed further out with each swallow. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate as he loaded her plate again. “Let’s keep going.”

Rebecca grabbed another roll, tearing into it with abandon as he filled her plate, the crumbs spilling onto her lap as she stuffed piece after piece into her mouth. Her jaw worked tirelessly, her cheeks puffing out as she barely paused to chew before reaching for the next morsel.

He filled her plate higher than the last, mashed potatoes, rich stuffing, and sweet potato casserole disappeared from her plate as quickly as he could fill it. Her fingers trembled slightly, sticky with butter and crumbs, as she reached for another roll, cramming it between her lips.

“More,” Michael said, piling on another heaping serving of stuffing. “Don’t slow down now.”

She obeyed, her fork scraping against the plate as she scooped up bite after bite, her movements desperate and greedy. Bits of marshmallow from the sweet potatoes clung to the corner of her mouth, and gravy dribbled down her chins. Her belly swelled noticeably, pressing tightly against her thighs, the taut skin glistening under the dim light. Each bite seemed to make her breaths shorter, her chest heaving as she pushed herself to keep going.

Michael grabbed her belly, squeezing it gently. Rebecca whimpered softly, her mouth full as she struggled to keep up. Her hands moved without thought, grabbing another forkful of food even as her body cried out for a moment to rest. She shoved the next bite in, moaning around the fork as she savored the rich flavors. Her cheeks were flushed, her hands slick and trembling, but she couldn’t stop.

“That’s it, baby,” Michael encouraged, his voice both commanding and tender, his grin widening as he watched her struggle and succeed. “Don’t stop now. Show me just how much that fat belly can handle.”

With each bite, her belly stretched further, the soft flesh growing tighter, and her movements slowed, though her determination didn’t waver. Michael’s hands slid down to the curve of her middle, kneading it gently, feeling the weight she was working so hard to add. She reached for yet another roll, stuffing it into her mouth with greedy abandon. “Good girl,” he whispered, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

Noticing that Rebecca had swiftly conquered the mashed potatoes, the casserole and therolls he decided that the turkey was next. Michael placed the massive bird directly in front of her, the golden skin glistening with butter. Rebecca’s eyes widened, she didnt know how much more she could take after her massive carb loaded binge. She hesitated as reached out, her chubby fingers trembling slightly as she grabbed one of the legs and ripped it off with surprising force.

Rebecca brought the turkey leg to her mouth, tearing into the juicy meat. The grease dripped down her chin and onto her chest, but that didn’t deter her. She moaned softly as the flavors exploded on her tongue, her lips and hands glistening with the juices.

“You enjoying yourself baby?” Michael asks as he intently watched Rebecca’s gluttonous display.

Rebecca nodded, her mouth too full to respond. She then tore off another piece of meat, chewing frantically before reaching for the other leg. Her hands were slick with grease as she ripped the turkey apart, her hunger seemingly insatiable. She didn’t stop until the legs and wings were all gone, the bones discarded carelessly onto the table

“How is it baby?” Michael asks as he rises to his feet.

“Daddy,” she gasped, her voice muffled by the meat in her mouth. “It’s so good.”

Michael’s grin widened as he lifted the remaining carcass and placed it in her hands. “Then finish it,” he growled, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Rebecca groaned softly as she grabbed the turkey with both hands, the heavy bird wobbling slightly as she brought it to her mouth. She tore into the meat with her teeth, her bites frantic and primal. Grease coated her fingers, her lips, her chin, and even her chest as she devoured the turkey, her hunger taking over completely.

Michael’s hands never left her belly as she ravenously tore into the turkey, his fingers digging into the soft, overstuffed flesh. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of pride and dominance. “You’re such a glutton.”

Rebecca moaned, her eyes fluttering closed as she took another massive bite. Her stomach ached with fullness, the weight of the food pressing heavily against her thighs, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop; she needed to make Michael proud. The turkey grew lighter in her hands as she ate, until there was nothing left but scraps.

Michael grabbed the last few spoonfuls of stuffing and held it to her lips. “Almost there,”

Rebecca lethargically opened her mouth, as he shoved the spoon into her mouth. The savory flavors mixed with the lingering taste of turkey, and she chewed slowly, her jaw aching from her massive feast. Her entire body trembled with exhaustion, her chest heaving as she swallowed.

“Just a little more,” Michael said, scooping up another bite.

Rebecca groaned, her hands falling limply to her sides as Michael fed her the last spoonfuls of stuffing. Each bite felt heavier than the last, her belly so distended that it looked impossibly large. Sweat dripped down her face, her body glistening as she slumped back in the chair.

Michael leaned in close, his hands sliding over her swollen stomach as he pressed his lips to her ear. “You did it,” he whispered, his voice filled with pride. “You’re such a good piggy.”

Rebecca let out a soft, satisfied moan, her body too heavy and full to respond. Her stomach gurgled loudly, the sound breaking the silence of the room as she basked in the aftermath of her indulgence. Every inch of her felt weighed down, her senses dulled by the sheer magnitude of her gluttony.

Slowly, she slumped back in her chair, her movements sluggish and deliberate. Her body, a trembling, overstuffed mass of flesh, seemed to melt into the wooden seat beneath her. Her swollen belly rose high, its pale, freckled skin stretched impossibly tight, the curve glistening with a faint sheen of sweat. Each labored breath caused it to heave slightly, the motion almost hypnotic in its rhythm.

Rebecca let out a low, guttural moan, her greasy hands falling limply to her sides as though too exhausted to move. The air around her was heavy, filled with the faint scent of butter and gravy that clung to her skin. Sweat trickled down her chest, pooling in the deep creases where her heavy, flushed body folded and pressed against itself. Her face, glistened under the dim light, her expression one of exhaustion and satiated bliss.

Michael stood beside her, his hands still resting possessively on her taut belly, his fingers kneading the overfilled mound. “You did such a good job,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “But we’re not done yet.”

Rebecca’s head lolled to the side as she groaned, her eyelids fluttering as if she were on the verge of passing out. “M-Michael…no…p-please” she gasped, her voice weak, but he cut her off with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Get up,” he commanded, his voice steady but firm. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

He grabbed her hands, his grip strong as he pulled her to her feet. Rebecca groaned loudly, her entire body trembling as she struggled to stand. Her legs wobbled under her immense weight, and her belly jostled heavily, its massive girth pressing against her thighs. She leaned heavily on Michael, her breathing shallow and labored as he steadied her.

“God, you feel so full,” Michael said, his tone laced with pride as he slid an arm around her waist. He guided her out of the dining room, her wide hips swaying with every unsteady step. The sound of her heavy, bare feet shuffling against the floor echoed through the house, and her belly quivered with each small movement. She let out a soft, breathless whimper as Michael led her into the living room, her body sagging against him.

Michael stopped in front of the digital scale, his smirk widening as he gestured for her to step on. Rebecca moaned softly, her belly wobbling as she shifted her weight. “Hop on,” he said, his tone low and commanding. “I want to see what all that food did to you.”

Rebecca hiccuped as she stepped onto the scale with a loud creak, her swollen body shifting under its weight. Her eyes fluttered closed, her entire form trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation as the numbers flickered. Time seemed to stretch, each second marked by the labored rise and fall of her chest, until the screen finally settled: 404.

Michael let out a low, satisfied chuckle, his hands sliding over her taut, bloated belly. The soft skin, marked with stretch marks, glistened faintly under the room’s dim light, stretched impossibly tight from her indulgence. “Wow,” he murmured, his voice filled with pride and satisfaction, his fingers lingering on the curve of her middle as if appreciating his work.

Rebecca let out a weak, breathy groan, her lips parting as though she wanted to respond, but words failed her. Her overstuffed body felt impossibly heavy, her legs trembling slightly under her weight. Instead, she managed a soft, involuntary burp, her face flushing as her swollen belly gurgled loudly in response.

Her voice came out as a faint whisper, trembling with exhaustion and a need for validation. “Did… did I do good?” she asked, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. Her hands rested limply on her sides, too heavy and tired to lift, her body swaying slightly with the effort of simply standing still.

Michael didn’t reply. Instead, his grin widened, and he stepped back just enough to take in the full sight of her. Without a word, he reached out and gave her ass a firm, deliberate pat, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet room. The action was unmistakable, filled with unspoken approval and dominance.

Rebecca whimpered softly at the gesture, her body shifting slightly under the force. The touch sent a faint ripple through her overfilled form, her eyes fluttering shut as her breath caught. Michael turned and headed for the bedroom without another word, grabbing the pies.

“Get your fat ass over here,” he commanded, his voice low and dripping with authority, as headed into the bedroom.

Rebecca stood there for a moment catching her breath, her chest heaving and her flushed body trembling. As she attempted to respond another loud burp escaped her lips before she whispered “Y-Yes, Daddy,” her voice trembling with obedience and eagerness as she shuffled toward him,