chapter 39

The environment around Michaela swam softly in a buzz of booze. Funky piano jazz scored the scene: the long family table was once again whole, with every Gardener in their respective seat. Each of them seemed to fill their seat naturally…and in Michaela’s case, she filled it and then some. She wondered whether she should stick two chairs together to cup the massive expanse of her derriere. It was too soon, she thought, Jackson had only just got here. She would have to wait a little more before she started acting confidently like a ***.

Jackson was on his third beer, and his gut was pressing against buttoned flannel with a thickness that Michaela recognized all too well. She watched her dad pop the bottle of wine open and clumsily pour it into the five glasses. Sarah and Janice slowly manoeuvred out of the kitchen with two large French whites of lasagna.

“There’s one more in the kitchen, just in case.” Sarah eyed Michaela. Michaela nodded her head vigorously, feeling her double chin wobble against her neck. 

Jackson piped up with a husky volume. “Yeah, one of these is just for me, right mom?” He laughed as he reached over and began to cut massive slices for the whole family. He separated the cheesy goodness only lengthwise, lifting the large portions out of the trays. Michaela realized he hadn’t even cut them in half, and was serving long strips straight from the French white. 

This was going to be a deadly weekend. 

Sarah returned with garlic bread and some fancy parmesan crisps that she had baked in the oven. The whole house was thick with the aroma of her cooking. Michaela sloshed her wine into her greedy mouth and awaited everyone to finally take their seat.

Once they had settled and served, Jackson stood up.

“I just want to say…that I’m glad we are whole again. I’m sorry for what I did. I hope we can share this amazing meal, and skip over all the hurt and uncertainty. I plan to stuff myself silly tonight…so that should tell you where I’m at!” 

They laughed. Michaela felt her jeans tattooing her stomach with a red line of discomfort. 

“Love you all. Let’s eat!”

They all dug in. Janice eat the slowest, constantly stopping to tell stories and update Jackson on family friends and events. He shovelled the pasta into his mouth without breathing it seemed. Michaela did the same.

The only one not gorging was Sarah, who picked and poked with a look of tired vacancy. Sometimes she would get disconnected after making a big meal. She nursed her wine and sliced her meaty, cheesy goodness with mediocre enthusiasm.

Michaela finished her first piece before Jackson, and leaned back. The jeans were definitely a bad idea. She might sneak downstairs to change soon.

Jackson was in the middle of telling a story about his last girlfriend. She was a waitress at the local brewery. They had broken up two weeks prior, but Jackson said it was more of a ‘break’ and that he expected her to come crawling back around the holidays.

“ - she still has a lot of stuff at my place, so I think that’s a sign.” Jackson casually quipped as he leaned over the table to drop another widthwise slice of lasagna onto Michaela’s plate, then his.

She said nothing, and neither did he. They both dug in.

One bottle of wine became two, became two and a half and Jackson rising to get a beer. He ripped a massive burp. “Kitchen run, anyone?”

Everyone shook no. 

“Want a beer, Mikey?”

Michaela mulled over. She felt herself filling up like a balloon, the carbs and bubbles tingling inside her massively fat tummy. Her drunken brain thought of Antony, and what the sight of her bloated belly would do to his poor, starved libido. She felt herself thicken and dampen against her panties.

“Fuck it, why not. Sarah does too!”

Sarah guffawed and shook her head. Jackson waved her off. “Fuck it, I’ll bring the six. Let’s crush it. MICHAELA GARDENER, IN DA HOUSE.”

“JACKSON GARDENER IN DA HOUSE!!” Michaela echoed back to him as he thumped away. His weight sounded heavy against the hardwood. Steve leaned back in his chair and smiled. Janice found her husband’s knee under the table and squeezed. Steve winked at Sarah and rubbed Michaela’s big, squishy shoulder blades.

Jackson slid around the corner in his socks. “Yo S-S. Is that dessert for TONIGHT?!”
Sarah nodded. She seemed quiet, Michaela noted.

“Oh shit. I was getting ready to crush that last lasagna with Mikey-Moo.” Michaela spun around to look at him. It hurt to twist her torso against her jeans.

“Do it.” She said. He tossed her a bottle of beer. He reemerged with the rest of the six-pack and the French white of room-temp Italian goodness. He pulled his chair to sit beside Michaela and passed her a spoon. Together, they dug into the plate while Steve talked about the prospects of getting more chickens in the new year.

Jackson ate the lion-share of the dish. Michaela let him too. She was already fat - Jackson had to catch up, after all.

When they finally finished their three course meal (apparently), Michaela mopped the saucy dishes up with ripped corners of the garlic bread. Jackson stood up and downed his beer.

He undid his pants and untucked his shirt and rubbed his stuffed gut. “Gonna feel this tomorrow. It’s been a while, I can’t believe I even was able to keep up with you!” He nudged Michaela.

“Hey, I’ve been practicing, if you can’t tell.” Michaela finally undid her jeans and let her belly fall into her lap under her big sweater. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

Jackson eyed his obese sister curiously. A glint of competition sat in his eyes. She looked at him, and dapped him in the arm hard. “Are you gonna get me another beer?”

He jumped up, fired up on life and beer and the resolution of the whole thing.

“I’m putting sweats on.” Michaela excused herself and rumbled downstairs. She rubbed just under her bra line and felt the toughness of her swollen gut. When she pressed on it, she felt gas rise up through her throat and burp out. It was not easy to drunkenly remove her stiff jeans. Her fat thighs felt itchy from the pressure, and her swollen belly button line creased into her crotch. The touch of her ballooning belly to her thunder thighs sent a shockwave of pleasure.

Her sweats made it up to her underbelly and no further. Was she that bloated??

Michaela stumbled into the bathroom. She lifted up her sweater and stuck out her stuffed gut. She snapped a pic and message Antony. “Thanksgiving, Day ONE. If I’m this full now…imagine what Monday will look like. ;)’

He immediately responded. “Will u marry me?????? I want to spend my whole life feeding you and spoiling you, my absolute QUEEN”

She smiled. He was clearly tipsy, too. She felt her hand hover at her crotch.

Suddenly, Jackson’s loud and boisterous bro voice called from the top of the stairs. “HEY?! DO I HAVE TO DRINK THIS ALL BY MYSELF? SARAH WORKED VERY HARD ON DESSERT, SLOW POKE! LETS GET A MOVE ON.”

Michaela turned and swayed upstairs as fast as her fat figure would let her. Breathless, at the top of the stairs, she came to a stop.

Then it hit her right in the face.

Jackson stood around the corner, holding the evidence. A paper plate with a massive corner of cake stuck to Michaela’s nose. Her hands instinctively flew up to catch it. There was a pause, as the family sat in silence waiting for her reaction to the prank.

Michaela opened her mouth and began to lick and suck the crumbs down her gullet without a hesitation. Shoving the cake down her throat with nothing but her tongue and teeth felt amazing. She pulled the plate away, letting the crumbs cascade and icing peak off of her nose and cheeks.

She laughed from deep in her belly. “You’re dead.” With the weight and bulk of a rhino, she charged at Jackson, the chairs shaking and glasses tinkling with her movement. She pinned her brother and turned to the family.

“Well, what shall we do with him, gang?”

She bent towards him and gave him a big hug, shoving her cake face into his neck and beard, passing along the sticky substance as she said in a silly voice, “I wuv u Jackson I wuv u fank u for my nice SURPRISE”

The family laughed like old times. Sarah observed how her enormous little sister absolutely encapsulated her brother. Her thighs were practically as wide as his whole torso. Her ass was ginormous. Jackson was turning red from the weight of it all.

She finally lifted her enormous girth off of him and pulled two chairs together, collapsing into them with little regard for their size or structure. She basically threw herself down when -

The back leg snapped on one. The crack was deafening, but the rumble and vibrations of the near 300lbs bombshell was louder. Glasses fell over on the table, Janice gasped, Sarah jumped up.

Michaela lay on her back, the ceiling swimming.

Then she started to laugh.



“Oops.”