Chapter 3

The scheme is simple.

Shortly after our conversation, Lacey called Matt over and said she'd decided she loved him enough to stay with him, but that he has to prioritize her over me going forward. Matt agreed, the bastard, though I was somewhat mollified to hear that he was hesitant about the caveat.

Lacey called in after to report and thus phase one was initiated.
Matt "works" most weekdays and is out of the house, so it's easy enough for Lacey to persuade him to join her for lunches more often than not. She keeps him going, playing the clingy girlfriend, insecure that she isn't his wife, and Matt gives in to appease her.

After work, she asks him to join her for drinks, or for an early dinner—an expensive one, during which she orders more than she can eat and begs him to finish the rest so it doesn't go to waste.

Lacey reports it's surprisingly easy. I think she's a natural. Not that Matt's ever been hard to push around. He's never needed to grow a backbone when money gets him whatever he wants.

To my glee, it didn't take long for Matt to start coming home at the end of the day having eaten more heartily than his usual reasonable portions allow.

It's less apparent on his waistline than in his ginger movements as he cossets his too-full stomach, but that's all to plan. I don't want to push him too far too fast. He can't know what the plan is or that we're in on it together. So we'll ease him in slowly.

After work, I leave him a plate of whatever I've cooked for myself, wheedling him about the effort I've put in when he doesn't want to finish what's on his plate. It's not extreme, but it ensures he's eating at least one extra meal every day.

Everything is going to plan.

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Over the next month, Lacey begins upping her game.

She starts by asking him to stay later and later, cutting into the hours that he'd usually spend dallying at the office or even going to the gym. Instead, she drags him to restaurants, bars, and movies, all filled with food, drink, and many calorie dense snacks.

I have almost more fun listening to their dates second-hand than I ever had dating Matt myself.

And Matt is none the wiser.

He's stopped pestering me to spend all my spare time with him—indeed, he barely has any spare time himself—and he has been in a generally good mood most of the time, spoiled and coddled by Lacey throughout the day.

I do feel a little bad about foisting him off on her, but Lacey insists she doesn't mind. She might even enjoy it.

Best of all, I legitimately don't think Matt's noticed that he's started gaining weight.

Of course, it's only a couple pounds so far, but it's a start.

Matt has always been fairly skinny and it has never taken much effort for him to keep his lean figure, but because I've been watching for it, I notice immediately. I wonder if Lacey has, too.

His angular, boyish face has started to soften, leaving a roundness that blunts the edges. And his belt—the one in the same size he's worn since high school—has begun to dig into his hips a little more, creating a cute little muffin top that I notice with elation whenever his shirt rides up. I'm not ashamed to admit that I've asked him three times in the last week to retrieve the china we keep in the cabinet over the fridge.

His belly is softening, too. He never had washboard abs or anything, but he's always been fit and lean. Now, there is a bit of convexity to his stomach, pooching out ever so slightly above his jeans.

Yes, my plan is going well.

But there's only so much a few extra lunches can do, and my plan goes much further than a spare inch of fat. No, he's hardly even chubby at this point, not nearly enough to deter potential conquests.

Right now, Matt is sprawled across the couch asleep. His belly is ever so slightly bloated out from everything he ate with Lacey today as well as the leftovers I guilted him into finishing. The white undershirt he's wearing has ridden up just enough that I can see a stripe of his belly underneath. It's surprisingly satisfying to see him there, the evidence of my plan's success.

I pull out my phone and snap a picture of his prone form to send to Lacey, the better to track the progress of our little project.

Leaving him there, I return to our room and call Lacey for the daily report—though I've already seen the evidence of her success for myself.

"I'm not sure what else I can do to encourage him," Lacey says, sounding almost frustrated that he isn't progressing faster. A woman after my own heart. "I've only got so much time on my hands between class and work and I'm already taking him on multiple dates a day."

"That's all right," I assure her. "You've done amazingly well getting him to this point. He's currently stuffed as a turkey. He couldn't even make it to bed before falling asleep."

"I'm a bit jealous that you get to see the ultimate results," Lacey says almost wistfully.

"I'll send you more photos tonight," I say.

"Ooh," Lacey coos, "look how round he is. Must have been all that beer we had after dinner. I'm feeling a little tipsy still, myself. Still, I feel like he should be bigger by now."

I chuckle. "He's always had an irritatingly fast metabolism. But we're getting there. Remember the plan was to ease him in, first. Things will go faster from here, I promise. I think he's truly caught up in it, now."

"How can you tell?" Lacey asks. I don't know if it's the beer or if it's the thread of our conversation, but her voice sounds deeper, huskier than usual and it does strange things to my pulse and certain other parts of my anatomy.

"He's never been much of a snacker," I say after clearing my throat. "But you should have seen him yesterday. He ate an entire package of cookies before dinner, and then went back for seconds!"

Lacey chuckles on the other end. It's a surprisingly hearty sound form her petite form and it makes me laugh, too. "You should see if you can catch him on video," she says, voice a little gruff and far more bold than she usually is. "I'd love to see that."

The idea sends a coil of warmth to settle low in my abdomen and I hum in agreement. "I think we can start on the next phase."

"What's that?"

Curling up on the bed, I begin. "Keep going as you are. Well, if you want to push him a little further, be my guest, but you're doing well as it is. I'm going to start nagging him a bit on my end. Getting him to spend more time with me, too. And when we do, you know what will be on the menu."

"Everything?" Lacey giggles.

I grin. "Exactly."

Matt has no idea what he's gotten himself into between the two of us.

I was surprised, at first, how eager the sweet girl who'd come crying to my door was to take revenge by fattening up her boyfriend, but now it seemed like just another part of our own friendship.

After her laughter dies down, I can't help but ask, "Are you still okay with all of this?" My tone is a little more serious than I meant it, but I don't want to push her into anything she doesn't want to be a part of. We started this absurd plan as a bit of revenge on a deserving cheater, but I like Lacey. I respect her. And I don't want her to be uncomfortable.

Lacey hums thoughtfully and I'm glad she's taking this question seriously. "I'm not sure any of this is okay," she admits and my heart drops. "But I'm not sorry we've done it, either. And... I want to keep going. If that's all right with you."

My shoulders relax and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "I feel the same. Though the circumstances weren't the greatest, I'm glad we met, Lacey. I can't remember the last time I had someone I could really talk to. Especially about Matt."

"I'm glad we mat, too," Lacey says, her voice barely a whisper. "I think we make a good team."

My chest and neck feel warm, almost flushed and I shake my head, trying to clear it. I have nothing else to say, but I don't want to hang up the phone.

"Will you let me know when you've started?" Lacey asks. "And see if you can get any pictures of him really pigging out? I want to see the progress we've made."

I bite my lip to hold back a grin. "I'll do my best," I say solemnly.