Chapter 1

Connor's knuckles were strained white on his steering wheel. His drive from the construction site was a more stressful one than usual. He'd unfortunately had to get loud with one of the newly hired kids. He'd added on a few new people as his company was growing, and he felt proud of its expansion since its humble beginnings. It was once just his brother Ken and his friend Lyle helping him out on the weekends repairing decks across the state. To now be creating an expansive deck for the most elite country club to grace the Northeast, was a sign he'd made something of himself.

He could admit hiring Joe was a mistake. The young buck was not following proper technique in his work, and the second Connor noticed, he went right over to correct him. And Connor knew he was a large guy, broad masculine shoulders that barely funneled into equally massive back muscles that had hauled many beams across it. He wasn't unaware of his recently forming round middle, and his neon orange shirt did nothing to hide it. He thought it softened his look a little, in a good way. But, when he'd stepped quickly to Joe and put a hand on his arm and the other the nail gun, his startled and knee jerk response was not that of someone confronted by a cuddly giant. It was visceral and instantly hostile. Connor tried to explain the way it needed to be done, but Joe wanted to argue. Connor probably got too upset by the insult Joe threw his way, he decided in his reflective drive. Wasn't his top choice to ream a 20 something out on the job, but it had happened.

He really didn't like having to be so aggressive in his day to day, but it had seemed like it was the path he chose. His staff stayed mostly professional and he tried to maintain as healthy an environment as he could, but toxic masculinity prevailed in small pockets. It stressed him out to be so on mentally and having to know he'd have to use his strength if anything escalated too much. God forbid a drunk civilian passes by with an opinion, his young guys would chomp at the hint of the opportunity to tell him off, which can only go messily.

He reached for his shake and sucked it, feeling his hand soothed by the cool cup, settling into the sensation on his tense hands. The sweet flavor made a great attempt to wash the ruggedness of the day away. As he passed the bridge into his medium smallish town, a sigh of relief poured over him. He'd be home in minutes and be in the presence of his adoring wife. His stomach rumbled in anticipation for the dinner he knew she was preparing. He sucked at the milkshake harder.

He pushed through the door and called lovingly to her. She poked her head out the kitchen entry and her voice carried over the savory smells dominating his senses. "Dinner is almost ready, Mr. Webbs. Clean up and sit down," she instructed. It was nice to not have to make any big decisions at home. What was for dinner was already on Grace's mind when she rose in the morning. As a baker who worked from home, cooking was her everything, and she was very good at it, lucky for Connor and all her customers. There were so many perks to being married to a pastry chef. Obviously, he got awesome and delicious food daily, never fail. Secondly, he could marvel at her talent and her thick backside, and every side truly, of his gorgeous wife. She wasn't as fluffy when they'd married, but Connor looked on her softer shape with just as much, if not more desire. Those pounds were signs of progress, honed craft, and success. He dipped into the kitchen just as she was testing the mashed potatoes, pointlessly because she could make them in her sleep. He kissed her cheek and pinched her butt. "I'll be sure to hurry."

He had finished his dinner and a glass of wine, feeling satisfied. He looked up and thanked Grace, whose chubby face smiled pleasantly at him, dimples gleaming. "Want some more?" Connor reached out his glass willingly and she filled both their glasses. "Still hungry, babe?" He wasn't, but he was noticing Grace offered more and more second helpings. He typically declined, attempting to keep unwanted pounds away, but the meal was truly perfect and it was the exact medicine to melt his stress away. "You look a little beat," she added. He decided to accept her offer for seconds, though not intending to have the same large serving he already had. The food was too good to deny her the satisfaction of his cleared plate. If anything was left over, she'd be right there inquiring if the item was no good, regardless if most of the large portion was gone. So, he tried to ease her stress by putting everything away into his stomach.

When he was pushing through the last bites, puffing as he did, he had hoped Grace didn't think too poorly of him. He made great efforts to be at his best for her, and he didn’t think panting over a stuffed gut was particularly following that precedent. Yet, he looked up at her and she seemed, at worst, a little amused by him. He thought that was good enough. He finished and drained his glass with a glug. He belched a bit too proudly for his taste, but again, Grace was entertained.

"A little piggish of me. Only brought on by an insane cook," Connor said, sighing and rubbing casually at his belly. "Hoo."

"Glad you enjoyed it. I'll grab dessert," she said, jumping up, finishing her own glass and taking the dishes away. He went to rise, to tell her not to bother, but found the task to be insurmountable. He stayed put and made a hopeless effort to decline from his seat.

"I couldn't possibly," he was saying, as she walked in with a piece of strawberry cheesecake.

"Babes. I made this just for you today. Don't be ungrateful." She said it nicely, but Connor couldn't help but feel the edge to her words. She was not standing for wasted efforts. She offered to spoon it into his mouth, which considering his state, was quite necessary. He was swallowing the last bite of Graham cracker crust and creamy cheesecake before he knew it. His stomach stretched in front of him like a small orb. Grace looked down at him, all fat in his chair, and patted his belly, causing him to burp again. She lifted her brows as if impressed.

"Everything was perfect, Grace. I definitely went overboard, though." She beamed, her hand rubbing tender circles on his packed belly. He could not deny how lovely it felt and melted into her touch, closing his eyes.

"You are getting a little dad bod aren't you," she criticized, carefree. Connor opened his eyes, and looked at her worried. He didn’t want her thinking he was too fat, especially right as he had convinced himself the soft edge wasn't horrible. If Grace wanted the flab gone, it would be, as soon as possible. He did feel a touch bamboozled for her to be so insistent on him eating so much, just to comment after the fact when he looked and felt as big as possible.

"Say the word and the pudge is gone." Grace shrugged and smiled.

"I don't know if all that's necessary." She squeezed his chest, which he had noticed was also getting a little bigger. He was sure she was just teasing him, but it felt a little awkward about it, Joe's words resurfacing in his mind. Connor's face twisted at the memory, and the ever attentive Grace instantly noticed and asked about the look.

"I got into it with the new guy on the site today. Blew up hard on him. I certainly regret it," he confessed.

"Must have deserved it. You're so level headed Connor," she supported. She held him from behind, nuzzling her soft chin into his shoulder.

"I just lost it when he told me to 'calm down bitch tits'," he said, feeling his cheeks redden at the utterance.

"Aw Connor," she cooed. "He was probably giving your little man boobies a shout out," she giggled. She rubbed his chest again, grabbing at the small mounds with each hand and shaking them. The feeling was strange to say the least. He had never heard her talk about his chest like that, and to hear it was eliciting a concerning response. He shifted his hips, and decided he was ready to head to bed. Grace helped him up and he got to bed, thankful that Grace was feeling up for sex as well as doing all the work. He didn't tell her he was already partially hard from her table parting gesture, or that her grabbing at his little moobs again during had elicited another surge in his pleasure. He figured they were fleeting thoughts. No big deal.