chapter 13

13.

“And this must be- uh, Dom! It’s nice to meet you!”

Dom grinned. Mac's Mom and Dad did little to hide the horrified looks on their faces. He couldn’t blame them. Dom put a hand on Mac’s shoulder and extended his hand.

“Dominick Kazyr, pleasure is all mine.”

Both of Mac’s parents, thin as Mac used to be, froze on the doorstep. Maybe it was the sight of two spherical bellies crowding their entry way, or that one of them was attached to their son, but the shock was obvious. Dom had to stop himself from cackling.

Small talk was as awkward as Dom knew it would be. It was like a delicate dance. Both parties pivoted from topic to topic. Work, vacations, anything to avoid the growing elephant in the room. Mac looked red and embarrassed the whole time. Any glance his way he assumed was examining his new poundage. He wasn't wrong. There wasn’t a direct comment about his rapid gain, but Mac couldn’t help but notice each of his parents looking away if their eyes happened to come across his overfed form.

Dinner was already laid out when Dom and Mac arrived, a Christmas feast of honey baked ham and mac and cheese with all the trimmings.

“We made all your favorites, sweetie!” Mac’s mother had sang, though when she realized what she was feeding her obese son the enthusiasm in her expression dropped.

“Let’s get you a drink.”

Both parents retreated to the kitchen. Dom couldn’t help but listen in on the parents frantic chattering. They were only a room away, but any concern they would be overheard was dwarfed by concern at what had happened to their son.

“He’s enormous!” Mac’s dad nearly shouted.

“Sush!” snapped his Mom, trying to show some restraint.

“And now you’re going to load him up with carb loaded cheese? We need to do something about this. Why doesn’t this Dom guy care about what Mac’s doing to himself? He must be depressed or something.”

“Look, it's the holidays. If he’s still like this next year we’ll have a little talk. Dom must be a good find if he’s still with our son after gaining this much weight.”

Dom had to pinch himself to stop smiling like an idiot. This was too good. He looked toward Mac, who was as red as a tomato and looking at the floor.

“You’re going to give them a good show, pig.”

Mac’s eyes shot wide.

“No way! You heard them, they think I’m out of control enough already.”

Dom smirked and slipped his hand under Mac’s shirt. He traced his finger down a series of side rolls, grabbing a handful of pure blubber.

“You are out of control. Curious Oink shoved meal after meal down his throat, stretching out his belly and cultivating a family sized appetite. Now you’re going to horrify them with that appetite, got it?”

Dom moved his hand lower, needing to move Mac’s gut out of the way to get to his crotch. He was hard though, as Dom knew he would be.

“Hope you boys enjoy!” Mac’s mom sang again, though this time it sounded off-key. Dom helped himself to a slice of ham and side salad, while Mac scooped helpings of food onto his plate. Both parents struggled to maintain their charade or not noticing, freezing mid-bite as they saw what Mac was going to glut himself with.

“So!” Dom quipped, drawing their attention, “look at this feast. You’re quite the cook.”

Mac spooned a glob of mac and cheese onto a slice of ham and rolled it into a sort of taco before plunging it between his lips. Sweat broke out on Mac’s Mom’s forehead.

“T-thank you, Dom,” she choked out. Dom kept going, unable to stop from adding to their discomfort.

“Has he always had such a big appetite?” he asked, the sounds of eating echoing around the room, “this guy can eat me under the table! I don’t say that often.”

To emphasize, Dom hefted his own wide belly. Both of Mac’s parents went pale, struggling to not ruin Christmas dinner. Mac continued to eat with abandon. He cleared his plate, easily the size of the other three people's meals combined, and went for seconds. Before long there was only silence and the sound of Mac chewing. He belched after the second plate, not hesitating before reaching for more.

“Honey-” his Mom said, eyes flashing toward her husband, “do you think you need-”

Mac froze mid scoop. He leaned back, the chair groaning under his ass.

“I just- we want to look-”

Dom decided to push this tension to the breaking point. He grabbed the spoon and loaded up Mac’s plate with another two helpings of fattening fair. He grabbed either side of Mac’s doughy belly and wobbled it, patting the curve like it was a pregnant womens.

“Yes, Mac is very aware he has put on weight. His body is finally catching up to that appetite. Don’t worry, we're working to turn all this into muscle. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Mac opened his mouth to speak but found no words. His parents still looked shocked, but a knowing realization was coming over them.

“Ahh,” Mac’s dad said, “I did wonder when those college binges would catch up to you.”

“As long as you're aware of it, sweetie. Though this is quite the change, it must be all that southern cooking. Good thing you have Dom here looking after you. You really need to get that appetite under control.”

Mac nodded. He was sweating and looked like he was about to explode from humiliation.

“Erm, thanks. And yea,” Mac said, slapping his belly, “I just want to enjoy the holidays and I’ll work on this in the spring.”

Mac finished his plate and was about to scoot his chair backward when his Dad spoke.

“Well, you aren’t going to skip dessert, are you?”

Mac felt blood drain from his cheeks.

“I don’t know, I’m pretty full.”

Mac’s Dad scowled and stood up, walking around the table toward him before Mac could react.

“C’mon, you’re not fooling anyone.”

Mac’s Dad reached down and flung his son’s shirt up. He revealed a pale beachball of a belly that surged out onto the fat man’s lap. Stretchmarks arched around the expanded mass of lard like lightning bolts through a storm cloud. Mac’s dad slapped it and grabbed a handful, jiggling it.

“Good god. To get a gut like this you must eat all day.”

“Leave him alone dear, he’s working on it.” Mac’s Mom cried.

“No, he needs to realize this isn’t normal. Get the pies.”

While Dom watched, Mac’s mom dropped a full apple and pumpkin pie in front of her son.

“Eat,” Mac’s Dad said, “clearly it’s your best skill.”

Mac shot a desperate look towards Dom, who did his best to stifle his boner. After the last six months Dom knew if anything, Mac was starving. Mac sank a fork into the apple pie and got to work as everyone watched. One slice went down, then half the first pie. After the apple pie was reduced to crumbs his Mom tried to interject.

“I think he understands, dear.”

“Nope. Fatty likes to eat like a cow, so he’s going to.”

Dom knew that Mac’s Dad was going for the ‘smoke a whole pack of cigarettes,’ style of discipline. Though he would have needed a dozen pies, not two. Mac made it through the pumpkin pie as easily as the first, slowing during the last two slices to make it seem like he was getting sick. Once he was done his Dad slapped his gut for emphasis.

The chair groaned one last time before splintering. Mac fell back on the floor, his gut surging upward, pushing his shirt further and popping his pants button. It flew up, landing in the empty mac and cheese bowl after ricocheting off the ceiling. Mac just lay there, unable to heave his bloated body upward.

“Look at the fatty everyone! Ate so much we don’t get dessert this year!” He stared down at Mac, face darkened. “Maybe if you didn’t eat like such a hog I’d be able to recognize my own son.”

Dom’s Dad spun and marched from the dinner table. He slammed a door behind him, leaving the other three awkwardly behind. Mac rubbed his loaded gut.

“I’m sorry- I- I ruined everything.”

Mac looked at his belly, which only puffed out his double, bordering on triple chin.

“Honey, you know how your father gets. Just- please work on your body. I have to say… I can’t believe you let your weight get this out of control. You used to be such a fit boy.”

Dom had his hands over his mouth, doing everything he could to stifle laughter. Mac looked horrified, nodding.

‘I’m not sure,’ Dom thought, ‘seemed like a perfect Christmas to me.’