Alone With Stepmom

Chapter 1

WINTER BREAK, JUNIOR YEAR

The day his father left for the overseas contract, Jacob stood by the door holding a cup of coffee, his college hoodie hanging loosely off his trim body, eyes bleary with sleep. His stepmother, Mayumi, waved to her husband with a perfect, unmoving smile, her face inscrutable. However she felt, Jacob thought she didn’t seem particularly sad.

He had just moved back home from college for the winter break of his junior year, and he was eager to decompress and enjoy time without a packed academic and social schedule. But he found that Mayumi’s presence quickly filled the void.

She had married his father only a couple years ago, a woman in her mid-thirties with the kind of body Jacob had only ever seen on the track stars at campus, tall and lean, muscled yet curvy. Jacob felt a little uncomfortable with the thought, but somewhere deep down he knew that he found her deeply attractive, and her presence more than a little intimidating.

She didn’t bother pretending to miss Jacob’s father. Instead, she redirected all her attention—laser sharp, unrelenting—onto Jacob.

“You’re too skinny,” she said on the second morning, standing in the kitchen in a clingy workout tank and tight black leggings that clung to her like a second skin, eyeing him head to toe. Her abs were still glistening from her morning run. “You hardly eat at school, do you?”

He yawned and gave a stretch that revealed his flat, lightly muscled stomach. “I guess I’m just not really hungry in the morning.”

She made mock expression of disbelief, and Jacob could see a slight smile curling at the corners of her mouth. “Don’t they teach you that breakfast is the most important meal of the day? This isn’t good, Jacob.”

From then on, every morning when he wandered into the kitchen, eyes crusty, hair tousled, there was already a stack of pancakes, or a towering of rice bowl, or a huge steaming skillet of omurice, waiting for him. And not just a plate. Enough for two or three people. And the smell made his stomach growl even when wasn’t particularly hungry.

She didn’t sit with him. She stood, hips cocked, arms crossed under her chest, watching him eat with sharp, patient eyes. Sometimes she’d take a long sip of tea and tilt her head slightly, as if studying a painting.

“This is really good, Jacob,” she murmured when he finished his plate, wiping sauce from the corner of his mouth. “All this good is going to be so good for you.”

He thought she meant it innocently, at first. He chalked it up to her being nurturing, maybe overcompensating for his dad being gone. But she didn’t act like a mom. Not really. Not with how close she stood sometimes, how her hand lingered on his shoulder a few seconds too long, her fingers curling in slightly as if measuring the softness building there.

At first, he didn’t notice the change in his body. But Mayumi did.

“I bought you new shirts,” she said one afternoon, tossing them onto his bed.

Jacob blinked at them. They looked bigger. Stretchier. When he slipped one on, they clung tighter than he expected.

“You like?” she asked from the door, arms folded. She wasn’t looking at his face.

“Yeah, I guess. Just... a little tight.”

“I think you look great, Jacob.”

He glanced up. She smiled like it was a joke. But there was something in her tone, the way her eyes didn’t budge from his midsection. That evening, she brought him a second helping at dinner without asking, set it down, and placed her hand lightly on his lower back as she leaned in close to his ear.

“Eat, Jacob. I love taking care of you.”

Every meal was lush, heavy, indulgent—Japanese comfort food with a twist of something richer, buttery Western dishes, deep-fried things he didn’t know the name of. Snacks materialized by his laptop while he studied. Sometimes he’d find a protein shake was waiting for him on the counter after a shower. He stopped asking questions. And her compliments started changing tone.

“You’re looking solid,” she said one day, her voice warm like honey, fingers tracing his softly swelling arm. “Not like your father. You carry it… softer. I like that.”

He flushed, shifting awkwardly, but didn’t pull away.

She didn’t let him. Her palm pressed gently into the newly forming softness of his belly. He hadn’t realized it had grown so much.

“You like how this feels, don’t you?” she murmured, mouth almost to his ear, hand gently rubbing his middle. “How I fill up your belly so nicely every day?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. She didn’t wait for one.

Over the following weeks, her control deepened. Not forcefully, but with an affectionate insistence he had no reason to resist. She stopped letting him do laundry, claiming he’d shrink things. Took greater control of his schedule and always wanted drive him if he needed to go anywhere. She even volunteered massages under the pretense of muscle recovery.

“Lie down,” she’d whisper, her voice low, her fingers slick with scented oil. “Let me take care of you.”

And she would. Working the oil into his thighs, his softening arms, the subtle swell of his belly with slow, circular motions. It didn’t feel like something a parent would do. It never had. Especially not when her hands dipped just a little too low, lingered a little too long.

“You’re looking more like a man every day,” she whispered once, her breath brushing the curve of his ear as she pressed closer from behind. He felt her body align against his, her breasts against his back, her hands on his stomach.

“You need a woman who knows how to take care of you.”

He tried to confront it once. Tried to ask if it was okay that she touched him like that. She only laughed, eyes half-lidded, sliding another bite of creamy, cheesy pasta into his mouth with her chopsticks.

“Does it feel wrong?” she asked sweetly, almost teasing. “Or does it just feel good?”

He didn’t answer. His mouth was full. She knew it would be.

“I knew you had a good appetite in that skinny little body, Jacob,” she cooed, brushing a hand over his side one afternoon as he stood shirtless by the fridge. “You’re finally growing into what I always imagined.”

He wasn’t sure when he stopped resisting falling into Mayumi’s insidious web. How could he not? The soft, insistent affection that quietly drove him wild. The way her praise made him feel important and desired. The calculated escalations of touching and feeding, never too much at once, always just enough to leave Jacob craving more. And maybe most of all, the creeping acceptance that – despite her technically being his stepmother – a gorgeous woman was doting on him.

SPRING SEMESTER, JUNIOR YEAR

By the end of the winter break, Jacob had gained nearly thirty pounds. He breathed heavier, moved slower, and his cheeks had a permanent flush. It was an easy choice, at that point, to move back home for the spring semester and just commute to college. Mayumi had, in reality, nearly made the decision for him, convincing him that he could only really focus on his studies if she handled his diet, schedule, his laundry and just about everything else.

When Jacob told her he was officially moving back home with her, Mayumi was overjoyed. Almost immediately, Jacob noticed some changes in her wardrobe. It started small. A shorter hem on her gym shorts. A tighter tank top clinging to the curve of her hips and the swell of her chest. Mayumi had always dressed well, always subtly elegant, but now her style bent deliberately toward the revealing, maybe even provocative. Jacob first noticed the change with guilt. Then with quiet, helpless obsession.

By late July, she stopped wearing a bra entirely around the house. The thin cotton of her tops left little to the imagination, especially after a run, when her skin glistened with sweat and her nipples stood firm beneath the fabric. She acted oblivious, like nothing had changed. She still pressed in close when handing him breakfast, her body heat radiating against his shoulder. Still leaned down over him to adjust the pillows when he laid on the couch, her cleavage brushing his cheek “by accident.”

But she’d started to touch more. So much more.

Rubbing his back lazily while he ate. Stroking his belly with one hand when he sat at the table, the other slipping a forkful of food between his lips. At first, Jacob felt unease under her intimate touch. But when her voice dipped into that syrupy sweet tone—“Shh, let me”—he relaxed, like it was natural, like it was okay for her to run her hands over the curve of his growing stomach.

She started doing it during TV, too. He’d sit beside her with a bowl of mochi or fried karaage balanced in his lap, and she'd ease close, guiding one hand over his belly in slow, rhythmic circles.

“Mmm, you’re filling out so well,” she cooed one evening, fingers pressing gently into the plush softness just above his waistband. “Your tummy’s getting nice and round.”

His ears burned. He laughed weakly, like it was a joke. But she didn’t laugh with him.

“I mean it,” she whispered, her breath tickling the shell of his ear. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, haven’t you?”

He swallowed, throat thick, nodding faintly. She gently squeezed a thick roll of belly fat, appraising it with a light jiggle, smiling all the while.

And each time he indulged, her praise got bolder.

“That’s it. Open up for me—yes, good boy, take all of it.” She brushed her fingers against the corner of his mouth after feeding him a soft, cream-stuffed pastry, thumb lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of his lips.

“Do you feel it?” she murmured later, when he was sprawled on the couch, belly tight under his shirt. Her hand thumped the side of his belly gently. “All that softness you’re growing for me?”

He shivered, eyes fluttering.

“You didn’t look like this when you came home,” she whispered, voice thick with satisfaction. “You were flat, scrawny…boring. Now look at you.” Her hand splayed across his belly like a proud artist admiring a canvas. “So soft. So wide. So slow and sweet and easy.”

She leaned down, brushing her lips across his cheek, feather-light. “You’re becoming exactly what I want, Jacob.”

It wasn’t always gentle. Sometimes her teasing took on a sharper edge, biting in just enough to make him squirm.

“You used to fit in this chair, you know,” she said offhandedly one afternoon, smirking as he shifted awkwardly, the wooden arms pressing into his softening sides. “My big boy is really filling out these days.”

One night, after dinner, she pulled him down onto her lap.

“Mayu!” he gasped, trying to stand again. “I’m… too heavy for you.”

“Nonsense,” she purred, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, resting her hands contentedly on his belly. “I want to feel it. All of you.”

He felt like a child, but she didn’t treat him like one. Her hands caressed, explored, greedily squeezing his belly and softening chest.

“Do you know what I love about your fat?” she murmured, nuzzling into his neck. “It’s honest. Vulnerable. No testosterone-fueled bravado, just… lovely, honest softness.”

He didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

Her hands cupped the underside of his belly, gently lifting it as if weighing it. “And you’re getting so honest with me, baby.”

She rocked him slightly on her lap, and he groaned—soft, embarrassed, but aroused. He could feel her chest pressed into his back, her thighs warm under his widening hips.

“You like how it feels, don’t you?” she whispered. “Being spoiled. Being full and taken care of.”

He nodded, breath catching.

“Then eat up,” she said, reaching for the leftover slice of creamy mille crêpe cake on the side table, holding it to his lips. “I want to see just how soft I can make you.”

SUMMER, JUNIOR YEAR

It was a blistering-hot afternoon in early August when Mayumi made her move.

Jacob had just finished showering after another lazy, food-heavy day. The house still smelled like sweet soy and frying oil from the katsu she’d made for lunch—two massive portions, both of which he’d finished under her watchful eye. He’d grown accustomed to the sluggish, stretched-out feeling in his gut after meals now, the way his belly sat warm and heavy in his lap when he leaned back. He barely noticed how out of breath he’d become climbing the stairs. Not until Mayumi pointed it out.

“You’re panting, sweetheart,” she teased lightly, watching him from her perch on the kitchen island stool, legs crossed, cleavage peeking from a tied-off blouse that looked more like lingerie than anything made for daytime wear. “Just from a little walk?”

“I’m not—” he started to protest, but stopped short. He was. And she just sat there, grinning, savoring his obvious self-consciousness.

That night, she brought it up casually over dinner.

“You remember Emi, don’t you?” she asked, swirling her wine.

Jacob looked up, blinking. “Emi…?”

“From your biology lab,” she said sweetly. “Japanese girl. Long black hair. Always used to giggle around you, studied abroad last semester”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess we… talked a little.”

“Mmm.” Mayumi smiled like a cat stretching in the sun. “She messaged me.”

Jacob’s fork paused halfway to his mouth.

“She’s visiting town. Wanted to drop off a gift for you,” Mayumi went on, her tone infuriatingly casual. “I told her to come by tomorrow. You don’t mind, do you?”

He swallowed hard. “Wait—she’s coming here?”

“Mmhmm.” Mayumi smiled a little too excitedly. “I thought it might be… nice. For you two to catch up. She hasn’t seen you since… fall semester, right?”

He stared at her, mouth dry, heart clenching. The last time he saw Emi, he’d been lean, a little wiry, with sharp cheekbones and visible collarbones. He’d caught her smiling at him more than once in class. They'd even exchanged numbers. But they'd never actually gone out. Now…

Now, he was over sixty pounds heavier. Downright chubby by any measure, really. His cheeks puffed out when he smiled. His belly stretched visibly against his T-shirts, soft and round and impossible to hide. His arms and legs were plump, with no trace of the lean muscle he once had. And he knew—knew—Mayumi had seen the way he shrank at his own reflection lately.

She planned it.

The next afternoon arrived like a slow-dawning storm. Mayumi made sure he was wearing a shirt that barely covered his belly, leaving a thin crescent of pale flesh exposed above a pants button that was threatening to pop. Not to mention that breakfast and lunch had been especially hearty

Mayumi leaned over him under the pretense of brushing crumbs from his chest, her breasts inches from his face, voice low.

“You look so soft today,” she whispered, smiling mischievously. “She’s in for quite a surprise, isn’t she?”

He flushed. “I don’t—maybe I should go change—”

Too late. The doorbell rang.

Mayumi opened it, and Emi stepped in with a cheerful “Hello!”—wearing a short pleated skirt and a cute blouse, her hair in a neat bun, smile bright.

She looked exactly as he remembered.

He, on the other hand, did not.

Emi’s smile faltered slightly the moment her eyes landed on him. It wasn’t mean. Just surprise. Her gaze flicked quickly down—belly, chest, thighs—then snapped back up with a little too much forced cheer.

“Jacob! Wow, it’s been… a while!”

He tried to stand, but Mayumi placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him gently but insistently back into the couch.

“Don’t overdo it, honey” she purred. “You need your rest. Let Emi come to you.”

His heart plummeted. He wanted to melt into the cushions.

“Oh?” Emi tilted her head. “Busy day…?”

“Busy eating everything I put in front of him,” Mayumi said with a giggle, reaching down to rub Jacob’s belly in front of her like it was nothing. “Look at him! Isn’t he just precious?”

Jacob felt his breath catch. Emi’s eyes went wide. He could feel her discomfort.

“I—I brought this,” she stammered, holding out a box awkwardly. “Just some cookies I made.”

“Oh, perfect!” Mayumi snatched it from her hands and opened it right there. “Let’s feed one to Jacob, shall we? He’s got such a sweet tooth lately. Can't go an hour without nibbling something.”

“I really don’t—” Jacob tried to protest, but Mayumi had already taken a cookie and pressed it to his lips.

“Open up,” she cooed. “Be a good boy.”

The humiliation stung. He parted his lips—automatically, instinctively—and took the bite, cheeks burning red as Emi looked on in a mix of disbelief and pity. He chewed, ashamed. She’d came to see the handsome, confident guy she crushed on last year. Not this humiliated fat boy, eating cookie after cookie fed to him by hand.

Emi gave a nervous laugh. “Well… I should get going… just wanted to drop those off.”

“Oh no, you just got here! Mayumi pouted, looping an arm around Emi and guiding her to a seat across from Jacob. “Jacob doesn’t get out much these days – I’m sure he’d love to hear what’s going on out there.”

Mayumi gleefully guided the conversation — from the latest gossip on handsome pop stars to Emi’s recent Mt. Fuji hiking expedition — each topic designed to agonize and humiliate Jacob in his transformed state. And Jacob was scarcely able to get a word in, Mayumi resting a possessive hand on his thigh, her other hand feeding him Emi’s cookies nearly faster than he could even eat them.

Once Jacob’s discomfort was palpable enough, the awkwardness thick in the air, Mayumi finally dismissed Emi: “well, it was nice seeing you again. Say goodbye, sweetheart.”

Jacob nodded faintly, mouth still full of a cookie. He couldn’t meet her eyes.

When the door shut, the silence in the house was deafening.

Mayumi walked back toward him, slow and catlike, grinning far too wide.

“Oops,” she said with a mock frown, cupping his face between her hands. “Did I embarrass my baby?”

He didn’t answer.

Her fingers trailed down his cheeks, over his jaw—what was left of it—and under his chin, tilting his head up.

“Maybe next time, don’t let yourself go so much,” she whispered with a smile that was anything but kind.

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, arms struggling to hug around his middle.

Then she pulled back and tapped the underside of his belly.

“Now. Let’s think about what we want for dinner, shall we?”

--

Jacob didn’t hear from Emi again.

Not a text. Not a call. Not even a social media like.

He checked, obsessively, for three days straight. She’d seen the post where Mayumi had tagged him in a “Sunday Brunch With My Big Guy 🐷💋” post—a horrifying, humiliating candid photo of Jacob mid-chomp into a burrito, looking especially fat in a too-tight shirt while Mayumi smiled gorgeously in the foreground. He hadn’t even noticed she’d taken the photo until it was already public. Over fifty comments. Most of them heart-eyed emojis or laughing ones. One of them from one of Emi’s friends: “Omg… is this Jacob??”

He tried to reach out. A simple message:

hey, emi. was nice seeing you. wanna grab coffee sometime?

It was marked “read” within five minutes.

No reply.

The silence hit harder than he expected. He had no right to expect much, but still the rejection felt crushing. She was the last girl who’d ever really looked at him with interest. And now?

Now, all she saw was his huge belly, his helpless expression as his stepmother fed him cookies and rubbed his gut in front of her like he was some sort of exhibit.

He locked himself in his room that night. Didn’t even eat dinner. When Mayumi knocked softly and asked if he was hungry, he answered through the door with a hoarse, quiet “No.”

An hour passed.

Then two.

Then the door creaked open anyway.

She stepped inside like she owned the room. No food tray. No teasing smile. Just Mayumi in a loose silk robe, her legs bare, hair damp from the bath and tucked over one shoulder.

“Jacob,” she said softly, voice like a lullaby, “what’s wrong?”

He turned over on the bed, burying his face in the pillow. He didn’t answer.