Chapter 5

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"I'm so glad you could make it for Thanksgiving," beamed Gina's mother.

Beatrice Walters was a rather jolly woman, round and full of life and joy. It was easy to see why Gina was never a skinny girl, Beatrice always considered it her personal mission to make sure her children always had plenty of food to enjoy. She had always liked Michael quite a bit, but she did wish that he'd enjoy her food more. Gina hadn't told her mom about the bet, instead telling her that Michael had relaxed his eating habits a bit and was enjoying eating more. Beatrice wanted to make this Thanksgiving dinner extra special, wanting to help Michael make up for all those years of denial and sacrifice.

"Wow, this looks amazing," Michael said as the three of them sat around the table.

Beatrice's husband had passed away years ago, and all of Gina's siblings had other plans for the holiday. That didn't stop Beatrice from making enough food for twenty people.

"Eat up, I'm so glad you're finally eating better," Beatrice remarked. "Here, just pass your plate over here."

Michael watched with wide eyes as his plate was loaded up until it was almost pouring off the edges. Beatrice watched as he ate, smiling wider each time he praised the delicious food. Michael tried to say he was full after the first serving, but it fell on deaf ears as his plate was piled up high yet again. No matter what Michael said during dinner, no matter how much he exclaimed that he was stuffed, every time his plate was empty it found itself heaped up with more servings of everything.

Gina watched in delight as her hubby seemed to inflate before her very eyes. It was almost like Beatrice was determined to see him eat the entire dinner himself, although Gina was helping herself to generous portions of seconds and thirds. Michael unbuckled his belt, desperate for relief as his midsection swelled from all the heavy foods. Soon he found himself unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks, powerless to resist the constant feeding.

"Oh, you really seemed to like those yams, why don't you finish them up?"

"I'm sure a guy like you can handle one last serving of stuffing."

"Do you like dark meat or white? I'll give you some of each."

"Gotta make sure we get some gravy on it all."

Gorged and stupefied from the overeating, Michael continued to cram down whatever what put in front of him. Gina was shocked that he put away so much, his abdomen bloated out into a giant round ball by the time he was finally finished.

"So, should we wait a bit for dessert?" Beatrice asked.

Michael put a fist to his mouth, his cheeks puffing out as he struggled to contain a monstrous belch. He felt a little woozy, packed up to the eyeballs.

"I think we better," Gina giggled. "Poor Michael might pop if we make him eat anymore."

"Aww, why don't you go lay down in the guest bedroom," Beatrice suggested. "I'll clean up here and after you guys take a little nap we'll have dessert. I made pumpkin pie, apple pie, maple walnut brownies and chocolate peanut butter fudge."

Michael managed to keep from groaning out loud. Already packed to bursting, he couldn't imagine forcing down all those sweets. Gina helped him strip down to his boxers before laying down for a nap, his distended stomach hanging several inches over the waistband of his underwear.

After a 2 hour nap he felt somewhat recovered, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and hoping that he could get away with just a taste of each of the desserts. Of course, this was not to be. Once again, Michael was given serving after serving until the elastic waistband of his sweats was straining and he succumbed to another food coma.

The following morning was more of the same, Beatrice made an elaborate brunch consisting of breakfast casserole, french toast, bacon, home fries and more. Again Michael ate one plateful after another. After breakfast he retired to the living room, untying the belt on his robe. Gina smiled, Michael's undershirt rode up a bit and his flannel pajama pants were slung low beneath the curve of his gut, so a good portion of his underbelly hung out for all to see.

"Well, someone's looking well fed," she smirked.

"Oh my gosh," Michael groaned. "I feel like a pig fattened for market. At this rate you'll have to widen the doorways to get me out of here. After this weekend I don't think I'll eat again until Christmas."