Pet Pig - Part 1

Chapter 1

Sara pulled the hood of her coat closer around her neck. She’d been sitting out in the cold for nearly an hour, and was already thinking of giving up on her mission.

It can’t be this hard to find a fatty in college, she thought to herself. A bitter wind swept through the open quad, rattling the bare branches above and sending a swirl of dead leaves skittering across the path. Many students passed by the bench she perched on, hurriedly making their way to their next class and out of the cold. Sara had made up her mind to find a feedee for Darla over a year ago, as a gift for her girlfriend’s birthday. But after weeks of scouring feedism sites, she failed to find a suitable enough fatty in time.

They had to be cute and obedient, like a puppy, and without much of a life of their own, so Darla could play with them whenever she liked. She thought it would be easy enough, there were tons of options online. But none really met the criteria she was looking for. They were always too busy, too old, too… independent. Eventually she gave up and resolved to try again for Valentine’s Day, which was now just two days away. She had a backup gift, a tennis bracelet Darla had been eyeing and hinting at for a while. But Sara really wanted to surprise her with a pet pig. It was the ultimate gift for her feeder girlfriend.

Sara eyed a plump student dressed in black with dark makeup. She wore heavy studded boots that seemed to drag on the ground as she walked by, and waved her hands expressively as she talked to the equally emo-looking man next to her. She had a nice ass, Sara noted, but there was no telling if the man she spoke to was her partner or just a friend. More importantly, Darla liked pastels and sparkly things, so this fatty wouldn’t match her aesthetic anyway.

Sara sighed and continued people watching. Her plan was to pay a feedee, if she needed to, which was most likely. There had to be tons of broke college students looking to make some extra money or have their tuition paid. She needed to find one that was broke enough to need her money, smart enough to get into the school but not so smart that they would’ve received a bunch of grants and scholarships. School fees at their private university weren’t cheap, although Sara didn’t have much of a clue. As a legacy admission, she didn’t didn’t worry herself much about those things, but she knew from social media that college was expensive. And that people gained weight during it. Hiring a fatty should be easy then, right?

Sara saw a chubby-looking male student approaching from a distance. She couldn’t see his face, as he wore a dark blue hoodie pulled up around his head, hands tucked tightly into the front pocket. His clothes were baggy and plain, but Sara could make out a substantial belly hiding underneath. She inspected his shoes, some broken-in black Nikes, and noted the lack of branding on his backpack. He definitely wasn’t well-off, a plus in her mind. But she really wanted a female feedee. She supposed it didn’t really matter, he was just meant to be a pet, and she was tired of sitting around in the cold waiting. She could at least see what he looked like.

Sara stood and adjusted her red puffer coat. She pulled her hood down as well, letting her long brown hair spill over her shoulders, and prayed this would go well. She had a plan for how she’d approach, but felt a bit silly now that an opportunity had actually come.

Just do it. Darla will be so fucking happy if you pull this off, she thought as she picked up the stack of books she’d brought with her. Turning toward her target, she began walking in his direction, phone in hand to make herself look distracted. Just a moment before he was meant to pass her, she veered her footsteps directly into his path. They collided hard, and Sara let the books tumble from her arms on purpose. One accidentally went flying and clipped the student in the head, and he winced, raising a hand to his temple.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” And Sara meant it. She’d planned for the books to just fall on the ground, but threw them up higher than she’d expected. “Are you okay?”

“Uhh, yeah, haha it’s fine.” The guy bent down and started to pick up Sara’s books. Sara immediately bent to help as well.

“That’s very much my bad, I don’t even know how that happened,” she said. They both stood and he handed her the few books he collected.

“No worries,” he said and gave her a tight lipped smile. Sara noted the dark curly hair peeking out from under his hood, and his warm brown eyes. His face was heavily covered in freckles, and his nose and cheeks were pink from the cold.

Sara smiled back, he was perfect.

He returned his hands to his pockets and made to leave.

“Wait!” Sara yelled louder than she meant to, not wanting him to go quite yet. He flinched and stopped in his tracks, looking at her hesitantly. Sara didn’t actually know what she was going to say, and tried her best to recall what she had originally planned. “Um, do you like ramen?”

Chapter 2

Lucas stood in silence next to the strange woman—Sara, she’d said her name was—whom he’d run into a few minutes ago. They were waiting to cross North Main Street, which bordered campus and was lined with every fast food and takeout place a college student could dream of. An area he knew far too well. Their destination was a popular ramen spot tucked in the middle of it all. He’d declined her invitation at first, but she’d insisted, more than once, that she had to make it up to him. He wasn’t exactly sure when bumping into someone started meaning you owed them lunch.

Lucas had given in, she was pretty and smelled nice, expensive. She was obviously rich, he could tell from her designer backpack and fancy shoes, so it wasn’t as if he’d be putting her out. It was also hard to turn down a free meal, given the current state of his finances.

The light for the crosswalk indicated go, and they made their way across the street and followed it east until they reached the restaurant. The spot was busy, but not so busy that they had to stand in line very long. When it was their turn to order, Sara only ordered apps: shrimp tempura, seaweed salad, and water.

“Get whatever you want,” she said to him as she fished her wallet from her backpack. She pulled out a black American Express card.

Lucas rolled his eyes internally. It was always the rich ones who didn't know how to eat.

He’d planned on ordering something small, it was the respectful thing to do. But he didn’t really see the point in that now. He didn’t know why he was annoyed, but he wanted to milk the opportunity for what it was worth. He turned to the cashier.

“Can I get an order of karaage, the tonkotsu ramen with extra chashu, and a spicy salmon roll. Oh and a hot sake, please.” Lucas looked over at Sara, expecting her to be irritated. But she simply grinned at him and tapped her card to pay. They collected their drinks and sat at the window bar seating facing the street. They sipped in silence for a while as they watched students walk by.

“So, what do you study?” Sara removed her coat as she asked, and threw it across the back of her chair. She wore a tight black v-neck top underneath, tucked into her slim blue jeans. Her large gray eyes blinked at him as she sipped her water from a straw.

“Criminology,” Lucas responded blankly. He was suddenly bored of the situation, and just wanted to have his food and leave.

“Oh, that’s so cool! So you want to be a detective or something?” Sara seemed to be truly interested.

“I don’t know, maybe.” In truth, Lucas didn’t know what he wanted to do. He was going to be a super senior next year, his graduation delayed after spending too much time messing around as an undecided major. But the reality of his friends moving on in a couple months made him focus up. He liked the criminal justice courses he took, and figured that was a good enough reason to make it his major.

“Okay. Well, I’m in business, finance specialization. It’s just okay.” Sara swirled her straw and looked around. Lucas knew she’d likely never put her degree to use. She was probably a trust fund baby living off of daddy’s money, going to school just so she could inherit some empire one day.

A waitress came over with a large round tray and set down their food. Lucas had been to the restaurant before, many times actually, but not as often as he’d like; it was just a bit too expensive to have all the time. He picked up his fork to start eating, and noted that Sara expertly used chopsticks to eat her salad. Because of course.

She continued to ask him questions as they ate. What he liked to do, how many roommates he had, if he had a job. He responded in as few words as possible, explaining that he mostly liked video games, lived with two other guys in an apartment off campus, and worked at the office supply store ten minutes away. He didn’t ask her any of the questions back, he could have guessed her responses, but she responded anyway, yapping on about horseback riding, her social media following, and the girlfriend she lived with.

“Anyway, I got her this bracelet for Valentine's Day and, don’t get me wrong, it’s really cute. But I just feel like I could do better, y’know? Like, three years is a long time and I just see us being together forever, you know what I mean? What do you think?” Sara looked at him expectantly. She had finished her small meal and simply sat and watched him as she rambled on.

Lucas slurped his noodles and spoke with his mouth full. “About what?”

“About a gift. What should I get her? Any advice?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Lucas said, and continued eating. He’d finished the karaage and salmon roll, and just had a bit of his ramen left. He was pretty full, but he didn’t want to take any leftovers home.

“There is one thing she wants,” Sara said hesitantly. Her tasteful, french-manicured fingers fussed with the pendant around her neck. “Well, I don’t actually know if she does but I think she’d really, really like it.” Sara stared at Lucas as if he should respond.

“Uhh, so get her that I guess. I’m sure you can afford it, whatever it is,” he mumbled.

“Well, yeah but like…it’s just hard to find. Really hard.” She continued staring at him expectantly. This time Lucas didn’t respond. He really wasn’t sure why she was talking to him about this. “You wanna know what it is?”

Lucas shrugged.

“A feedee,” Sara said, and lowered her voice as she did so. “Y’know like someone to feed or whatever.”

Lucas was so caught off guard by her answer that he nearly inhaled his broth. He broke into a fit of coughing, chest tightening as he tried to clear his throat, eyes watering slightly from the effort. He reached for his drink and took a long sip, nodding in thanks as Sara handed him a napkin. Only now was it clicking, why she’d even bothered with him in the first place.

Lucas had heard of feedees once before, in a video by one of his favorite commentary YouTubers years ago. It was not at all what he’d expected Sara to say. He thought she’d mention some overpriced designer bag or useless piece of art, not…a whole human. Rich people were such weird fucks.

“You think it’s weird don’t you? She’s a feeder but she’s never actually fed anyone, or whatever. I’m not really into that stuff but she talks about it all the time and I just think there has to be a way to like, gift it to her right? Like I’m sure that’s a thing.” Sara spoke earnestly, as if Lucas would have any clue as to what she was talking about.

“How the fuck should I know?” Lucas began to stack up his plates. He had work in an hour, and would be late if he didn’t get home and change soon. He also wanted to get away from Sara, finally deciding he just didn’t like her very much.

“Wait, I just– can I just ask you something? Real quick?” Sara hovered her hand over his arm, but didn’t touch him, willing him to stay. He paused. “Would you at all be interested in getting paid for something like that? Like, a lot?”

“Why, because I’m fat?” Lucas snapped at her. He felt his cheeks get red, and regretted even agreeing to come here.

“Oh! No, of course not! I just meant–”

“No, I’m not fucking interested.” Lucas said, cutting her off. He picked up his backpack and hurried out of the restaurant.

________________

Lucas walked around the store, dragging a cart full of returns behind him. They were closed now, and he was exhausted. He hated his job, and was ready to finish closing and go home. This shift was particularly awful. It seemed like every customer that came in needed help with something, and he’d had to finish shelving the shipment of items his coworkers had left. But what made it worse was his constant overanalyzing of the embarrassing exchange he’d had with the Sara girl from earlier.

He’d come to the conclusion that she had probably bumped into him on purpose, targeted him because of his weight. He knew he was fat, or at least fatter than when he’d started college, a fact his parents never failed to mention whenever he went home for the holidays. But he didn’t think it was all that noticeable, especially when he wore looser, baggier clothes. Either way, she had no right to ask him something like that. People need to keep their weirdo kinks to themselves.

“I can do some of those.” The skinny kid who’d managed the checkout that shift came over and collected several of the items into a shopping basket.

“Thanks,” Lucas said, and continued to return the products to their places throughout the store. With the help of the cashier, they were able to get done with the returns a bit faster, and now just had to wait for their manager to get done closing the registers.

Lucas went to the back to collect his things, and decided to wait in the breakroom. Out of habit, he checked the work schedule for next week. To his surprise, his hours had been cut nearly in half. Confused, he flipped the pages clipped to the mall-mounted clipboard to check the week following as well. More of the same; he worked only three days a week for as far as the schedule showed. He pressed the button on his radio and spoke into it.

“Hey, Miranda. Has the schedule been updated yet? It doesn’t look right.” He double checked the hours as he waited for his manager’s response. A few seconds later, he heard her staticy voice respond through his earpiece.

“Yep, it’s updated, as of today.”

Lucas let his arms fall to his sides dejectedly. He couldn’t afford to work so few hours. He’d barely be able to afford rent with that kind of pay, especially considering his roommates would be moving out soon, and he didn’t know how quickly he could find new ones. He made his way to the front office where Miranda was, and knocked on the door. She opened it a few moments later.

“Is there a reason my hours were cut so much?” Lucas asked, following her back into the room.

Miranda sat down heavily in the chair and sighed. “A bunch of y’all had your hours cut. We had to hire some new people since it seems none of y’all can work weekends. Just had to spread the labor costs, is all.” She continued to count the cash in the registers.

“Well, I really need those shifts back. Like, for real. I’ll come in on the weekends if I have to.”

“I mean…I can update your availability to include the weekends if that’s what you want.” Miranda looked at Lucas with her eyebrows raised, eyes tired. “But I can’t guarantee your hours will change all that much.” It was clear she was just as annoyed with the situation as he was.

“Nevermind.” Lucas left the office and closed the door behind him. He tried his best not to get upset, but it just felt like a shitty day. He remembered the conversation he’d had with his parents last time he was home. They weren’t going to be able to help him with his tuition anymore, not with his younger brother starting college soon too. He’d have to take out loans for the first time next semester, and he’d have to find a new job.

Chapter 3

Thursday night was quiet in Lucas’ apartment. The blinds were drawn against the cold, and the flicker of the TV cast a bluish light across the living room walls. He sat sunk deep into the lumpy couch, one arm tucked under his head, the other cradling the remote. Some random comedy was playing, one of those shows he used to watch religiously but now only half paid attention to, the jokes dulled from reruns and repetition.

He stretched out a little, hearing the springs in the couch complain under his weight. His sweatpants rode up around his ankles, and he tugged at them lazily before reaching down to scratch at a spot on his shin. He was vaguely aware of how soft his belly felt under the fabric of his hoodie, the way it rested heavily in his lap when he slouched like this. He exhaled through his nose and let his eyes drift to the ceiling, trying not to think too hard about anything.

His roommates came bounding in, laughing and chatting over each other like they always did when they were about to head out. Lucas turned his head toward the hallway just as Mason and Jordan walked in, dressed in jeans and fitted jackets, cologne lingering in the air behind them.

“Hey, man,” Mason said, grinning as he leaned over the back of the couch and gave Lucas a friendly thump on the shoulder. “We’re going to Tyler’s place, then probably Lucky’s for drinks. Wanna join?”

Lucas blinked, forcing his brain to catch up. “Uhh…”

He sat up a little, rubbing at the back of his neck. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. He could use a drink. It had been a rough week. But he also still hadn’t paid Mason back for the last round of beers, and Jordan had spotted him for pizza just a few nights ago. And even if they didn’t care, if they’d never made a big deal out of it before, he was tired of feeling like the guy who always owed someone something. Tired of tallying every favor.

“I think I’m just gonna chill here,” he said after a beat. “Catch up on some stuff. You know.”

The front door clicked and opened with a familiar creak. A rush of cold air slipped in as Jordan gave him a thumbs-up and zipped his jacket. “Cool, cool. We’ll see you later, bruh.”

Mason had already made his way to the door, but called back, “Oh, and I’ll send over the lease tonight, by the way, forgot earlier.”

Lucas tried to smile, but it came out crooked. “Yeah, sounds good.”

The door closed behind them, and with it went all the energy they’d brought in.

The lease.

He groaned softly and let his head fall back against the cushion. His stomach sank. It wasn’t like he didn’t expect it. He knew he’d have to re-sign soon, but somehow it still hit like a punch. He hadn’t even looked at his bank account this week. He couldn’t bring himself to. The idea of committing to another year of rent, especially without roommates, when he could barely cover groceries made his chest tighten. It was like drowning in slow motion, and every time he gasped for air, another bill landed on his face.

He tried to refocus on the TV, but the actors felt hollow now, their voices tinny and far away. He muted it with a tap and let the silence settle again. A moment later, his stomach let out a soft, insistent growl.

Without thinking, he reached for his phone.

He opened the food delivery app with muscle memory. He scrolled through places he already knew were too expensive, too indulgent, but he clicked anyway. Just to look. His favorite Korean spot was still open. He added japchae. Then pork mandu. Then soft tofu stew. The total climbed steadily, and when he finally tapped into the cart, he stared at the number like it had betrayed him.

Too much.

He set the phone down on his chest, heart sinking along with it. He was so fucking tired of being broke. Tired of budgeting every craving. He knew he shouldn’t eat late anyway. Should be cutting back, watching what he ate. He could feel the softness creeping back around his middle. Could see it when he stepped out of the shower and caught his reflection by accident. He hadn’t been to a gym in months.

Lucas sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

His thoughts drifted, uninvited, to Sara.

It had only been yesterday that they’d talked. But it felt longer. He’d brushed off the conversation like a sick joke, filed it under weird shit that happened and moved on.

Except he hadn’t.

He picked his phone back up and opened Instagram. Her name came up before he even finished typing. He tapped through to her profile.

There she was, same as before—effortlessly pretty, with the kind of cool, sharp confidence that came with wealth. There were new posts with a carousel from what looked like a party, somewhere fancy and exclusive. The third photo had her and someone tagged as @darlawren in matching dresses, sipping something bubbly from champagne glasses.

Darla. That was the girlfriend, right?

He tapped into her profile too, just out of curiosity. Her handle had been tagged in a few posts, and sure enough, there she was. The feeder.

Lucas had to remind himself that the term wasn’t a joke. Not in their world. He scrolled through her grid—pics of food, yes, but also selfies, close-ups of her curls, her big expressive eyes, her ridiculously perfect smile. She had this warmth about her, even in photos. That kind of cozy energy that made you want to be near her. Hug her. Maybe let her hold your face while she offered you a bite of something sweet.

He caught himself. Sat up straighter.

They both looked so normal. Well, no. They looked rich. But otherwise, they were just… girls. Girls who went to brunch and posed with fancy cocktails and took candid pictures of each other mid-laugh.

Would it really be that bad?

His mind played with the idea. Again. He felt a low, familiar tension crawl up the back of his neck. The kind of feeling he got when he hovered over the “buy” button for something he couldn’t afford. What was the worst that could happen?

He’d get fed. Play housepet for a couple of weeks. Maybe gain a few pounds. And in exchange… he could breathe a little easier. Pay his bills. Sign that damn lease without a weight in his chest.

He checked the date. February 13th.

Shit. Valentine’s Day was tomorrow. If her offer still stood, it probably expired tonight.

Lucas stared at the screen. His thumb hovered over the message button. He didn’t have to agree to anything just yet. He’d just feel it out, see what the terms were. There was no harm in that.

He didn’t let himself overthink too long before he sent Sara a DM.

‘Do you still need a feedee?’

Chapter 4

Sara's fingers fumbled slightly as she adjusted the pink silk bow tie around Lucas’s neck, smoothing the satin into a symmetrical knot. They stood in the spare bedroom of her condo, getting ready for the surprise she had planned. She could feel her pulse fluttering high in her throat, her hands not quite steady no matter how much she tried to calm them.

Relax, she told herself. You’ve done harder things than this.

And yet her chest felt tight with anticipation, her cheeks warm with the weight of it all. She still couldn’t believe it was really happening. That it had worked.

Just that morning she’d jolted upright in bed the second she saw the notification. Lucas messaging her out of the blue. It was nearly midnight when it came through, and she hadn’t seen it until her alarm buzzed her awake several hours later. Her sleep-fogged brain had barely processed what she was looking at before the words hit her full force.

‘Do you still need a feedee?’

She’d stared at it for a full minute in silence, heart racing, covers half-off, phone clutched in both hands. Then she'd let out a soft squeal, face buried in a pillow, trying not to wake Darla.

The rest of the day had been a blur.

She and Darla had started the morning together, sweet and soft. Brunch at their favorite spot, all heart-shaped waffles and warm lattes, Darla laughing with whipped cream on her nose. Sara had smiled through it all, buzzing with the secret tucked under her tongue. Darla had no idea. She thought Sara had class that afternoon.

Instead, Sara had dashed from store to store, skipping her lecture entirely in favor of finding the perfect outfit. Something cute, a little cliche, something that would make Darla’s heart melt when she saw him. And then she'd picked up a few last-minute decorations, set the scene, coordinated the timing, running on adrenaline, barely eating, barely sitting still.

Dinner with Darla had been the cherry on top. They’d gotten dressed up and gone somewhere nice, a rooftop place with glowing lanterns and overpriced pasta. Sara had given her the tennis bracelet she’d gotten as a backup gift partway through the meal, sliding the velvet box across the table with a coy smile. It was beautiful—platinum and diamonds, sleek and delicate. Darla had beamed, leaned across the table to kiss her.

But that wasn’t the real gift.

No, the real gift was standing in front of her now, pink and white and visibly uncomfortable.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Lucas muttered, squirming as she ripped off a stray tag from his vest.

Sara smiled despite herself. “You look great, honestly.”

Lucas frowned. His brows pulled together like he didn’t believe a word of it. “I look ridiculous.”

She took a step back, looking him over with a critical but affectionate eye. He stood stiffly in the center of the room, arms half-hanging at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The outfit wasn’t perfect. There hadn’t been time for tailoring or even a fitting, but she’d done the best she could.

White pants and a white short-sleeve shirt, crisp and clean beneath the softer pink of the vest and bowtie. The vest, if she was being honest, was a bit snug. She hadn’t been totally sure of his size and had erred on the smaller side. It stretched a little over his stomach, puckering faintly at the buttons, and the pants didn’t sit quite right on his hips, but the overall effect was still charming in its awkwardness. Made him look a little chubbier, too.

Ridiculous? Maybe. But also sweet.

He looked like a schoolboy dressed for a Valentine’s pageant. Or better yet, he looked like exactly what he was: a gift. Sara had to stop herself from grinning too much. Darla was going to lose her mind.

She ran her hands down the front of the vest one more time, smoothing it unnecessarily, and tried to still the wild beating of her heart. Lucas looked like he was still mentally processing the entire situation, still trying to figure out how the hell he’d ended up here. And honestly? So was she.

But her excitement was winning. Darla was in the living room now, waiting patiently. Sara had told her she had one last surprise, but there was no way she’d suspect what was coming.

Sara glanced once more at Lucas, cheeks dimpling into a private smile.

“Smile,” Sara commanded, ignoring his earlier protest.

Lucas gave her a small, stiff grin, all teeth and discomfort.

“Ummm… maybe don’t,” she said, biting back a laugh. The forced expression vanished instantly from his face, and he looked at her, mildly wounded.

“Okay, remember,” she continued gently, reaching up to straighten his bowtie again, “just try and look happy. Or at least neutral. And don’t say anything unless she asks you.”

Lucas nodded. He still looked wildly out of place—shoulders slightly hunched, eyes shifting nervously—but he was doing his best. That alone made her appreciative.

She turned around and grabbed the last finishing touches from the bed: a glossy bundle of pink and red balloons and a white box of mini donuts with red ribbons tied around it like a present.

“Here,” she said, offering them to Lucas. He took them without a word, carefully adjusting the box in his hands and blinking at her like he was awaiting further instruction.

Sara stepped back, surveyed the full image, and let out a breathless little sigh.

It was perfect.

“Follow me,” she said softly, unable to keep the smile off her face.

She led him out of the bedroom, down the wide hallway, their footsteps muffled by the runner lining the floor. They stopped just before the corner into the living room. Her heart was pounding. She could hear the rustle of Darla shifting in place, the occasional tap of her heels on hardwood.

Sara grinned.

“Babe!” she called, trying to sound casual, her voice nearly cracking from excitement. “Are your eyes closed?”

“Yes, of course!” Darla’s voice called back from the other room, full of laughter and anticipation.

Sara peeked around the corner. Sure enough, Darla stood near the center of the room in her little black dress and matching heels, her hands clamped firmly over her eyes, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. The golden heart-shaped pendant she wore most days glinted in the warm overhead light. Adorable as always.

Sara turned to Lucas and quickly positioned him a few feet in front of her girlfriend, giving him soft, silent gestures—stand here, hold the box like this, lift the balloons a little higher. She adjusted his vest once more, tugged it gently into place, and gave him a final once-over. He looked nervous. Rightfully so. Still, it was all coming together.

She stepped to Darla’s side, her own nerves suddenly catching up to her.

“Okay baby,” she began, her voice warm and shaky. “First of all, I love you.”

“Love you too,” Darla replied instantly, her smile already blooming even beneath her hands.

“And to show you that love,” Sara continued, cheeks flushing, “I wanted to get you something that you’ve always wanted… but I could never really give you myself. Something you could dote upon. And grow.”

Darla let out a delighted little squeal, her fingers twitching slightly against her eyelids.

“Ready?” Sara asked.

“Yes!” came the eager response.

Sara giggled, she couldn’t help it. The energy from Darla was contagious. She turned her head, stealing a glance at Lucas. He was trying hard to keep still, to look calm, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight wobble in the way he held the box. She caught his eye, held it for just a second. A silent check-in. He gave the smallest nod.

“On the count of three,” she said. “Open your eyes.”

Darla gave a little bounce of her heels and nodded excitedly.

“One… two… three!”

Darla whipped her hands away from her face. Her eyes landed on Lucas instantly.

There was a half-second where her smile faltered, not in disappointment, but confusion. Her gaze took in the whole scene: the nervous boy in pink and white, the pastry box, the bundle of balloons. Her brows drew together, her lips parting slightly.

And then the realization hit.

Her whole expression lit up, mouth widening into a gasp, then a grin, then something nearly feral with delight.

She turned sharply toward Sara, eyes sparkling.

“Wait. No way!”

Chapter 5

“Oh my god, he’s so cute!”

Lucas’s face flushed hot, the sound of Darla’s delighted voice nearly overwhelming him. She was already crossing the room before he could brace himself, her heels clicking rapidly against the floor, eyes wide with wonder. Her gaze swept up and down his body, drinking him in from every angle like he was some rare find at a boutique, strange and valuable all at once.

He fought the reflex to step back as she circled him, her hands clasped at her chest, smiling so hard it looked like it hurt. His blush deepened when her eyes hovered, lingered, on his stomach, the soft curve of it exaggerated by the too-snug pink vest he wore. The white pants clung tighter than he would’ve liked, and the whole getup made him feel like he was in some twisted, hyper-feminized parody of a schoolboy uniform.

Still, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He could feel the heat behind his ears. The muscles in his stomach twitched, a subconscious urge to suck in, to tighten and conceal, but he was told not to.

“Is he really mine?” Darla asked, wide-eyed and breathless with disbelief, as if this was the best present she’d ever received in her life.

Sara, now leaning casually on the back of the couch, nodded eagerly. “All yours.”

Lucas shifted his weight, trying to subtly adjust the box of donuts in his arms, but neither of them seemed to notice. Or, more accurately, neither of them cared.

“What’s his name?” Darla asked next, not even looking at him.

Sara answered again. “Lucas.”

Something in his chest twisted at that. Not just that she answered for him, but the way it felt like he wasn’t even there. He stood in the room, upright and warm and real, but the way they spoke made him feel ghostly, like a concept they were admiring more than a person.

It was strange. A little demeaning. Like he was some new puppy they were showing off. A cute, trainable novelty. Something to be pampered and laughed at in equal measure.

Still, he didn’t speak. He’d already accepted this as part of the deal.

Sara kept going, as if she’d prepared a little sales pitch just for this moment. “He likes all kinds of food—fast food, sweets, savory stuff. He’s really sweet, really obedient. I think you’ll love him.”

Lucas felt a bit of unease. They hadn’t agreed on half of that. Some, yes. He had said he’d go along with what Darla wanted, that he’d try to be compliant. But she was embellishing now, improvising, and he wasn’t sure how far she’d take it. Still, he didn’t contradict her. What could he say, anyway? It was harmless enough. All things considered.

Darla’s hand lifted, and before he could flinch, she was poking softly at his stomach. Her fingers pressed gently into the curve of it through the fabric, as if testing its give, watching for his reaction like a scientist watching an experiment unfold.

Lucas forced himself not to step back. Don’t flinch. Don’t tense. Just breathe.

He did his best to keep still and managed a small, sheepish smile, just enough to show he was cooperating.

Darla’s eyes lit up. She let out a delighted squeal and clapped her hands together, bouncing slightly in place. “Oh, he’s perfect,” she said, mostly to Sara.

Lucas stayed still, steadying his breath, focusing on the warmth in his face, the heat in his chest, the low growl of hunger still sitting beneath it all. His mind whirled.

It’s just for the money, he reminded himself. He clung to that. Gripped it like a lifeline.

And it was a healthy amount of money, too. More than he could’ve scraped together with two jobs, more than he could have hoped for when he sent that DM last night with his pride already half-swallowed. When Sara had thrown out a number that morning, after confirming he was serious, after laying out her expectations in more detail, he’d been stunned. He had expected something modest, just enough to keep his head above water while he kept up his hours at work.

But it had been… substantial. Ridiculously generous.

So much so that he’d nearly accepted it without question. But he’d caught himself just in time. Negotiated. He was proud of that, at least.

Now, he’d secured enough to replace all his current expenses—bills, groceries, tuition—and still have money left over. Enough to breathe for once.

He’d even managed to get a little extra for what he’d called an “inconvenience,” though it was more like survival. Sara had mentioned, rather offhandedly, that she’d prefer he stay in their spare bedroom. That way Darla could have access whenever she wanted. There hadn’t been much room to argue, but Lucas saw the opportunity. He leaned into it. Mentioned how it would be a big lifestyle change. That he’d need to move quickly. He never said his lease was about to expire. Never said he couldn’t pay it even if it wasn’t.

Maybe that was manipulative. But Sara hadn’t batted an eye.

Either she was desperate to make this happen, or the money meant so little to her it didn’t matter. Either way, he was going to get what he could.

He shifted slightly as Darla walked around him again, admiring him like he was some interactive display. The box of donuts in his hands was starting to feel heavier, his arms a little sore. But he didn’t complain. Didn’t drop his smile.

He had a job now, in a sense. A role and a title, even if it was unspoken. And if this was how it started, he could take it. For now.

“So how big will he get?”

Darla’s question cut through Lucas’ thoughts like a snap of fingers, sharp and casual, as if they were discussing houseplants or goldfish. He blinked, the words not fully processing at first. Then Sara responded, too quickly, too cheerfully.

“You can make him as fat as you want, baby.”

Lucas’s head jerked slightly in her direction, his brows twitching together. What? He hadn’t agreed to that. Not… explicitly. The weight gain had been implied, sure, he wasn’t naïve. But there’d been no hard lines drawn. And definitely no talk about how far this would go.

He tried to catch Sara’s eye, but she was suddenly busy studying Darla’s face, ignoring him a little too deliberately. That irked him. She knew he’d want some boundaries here. She’d skirted the subject on purpose, and now she was hiding behind Darla’s glee.

Still, he said nothing. His jaw tightened slightly. It was early. He needed to be smart. This wasn’t the moment.

“You wanna try it out?” Sara asked, turning toward Darla with a teasing grin.

Darla’s eyes lit up again. “Yes!”

Sara turned to Lucas and lifted the lid of the pastry box in his hands. The scent hit him instantly—yeasty, buttery, thick with sugar and cinnamon. His stomach grumbled, traitorous and loud, and he looked down at the neat little rows of mini donuts. They were small. Innocent. But the way they were being presented made them feel more like props than food.

Darla reached in and grabbed one, then turned to him, holding it up near his mouth.

Lucas flicked another glance at Sara, who now met his eyes for the first time in several minutes. She looked… hopeful. Maybe even a little anxious. There was a faint plea behind her smile, a silent please just do it in the arch of her brows.

Somewhere deep down, that gave him a strange sense of satisfaction. She wanted him to obey. Needed him to. And in this moment, he was the one with the power, however brief. He could say no and bring the whole performance to a halt. But instead…

He looked back at Darla. She was still smiling sweetly, expectantly, with no trace of manipulation in her eyes. Whatever role she was about to take in his life, she wore it like someone who’d cherish it.

Lucas opened his mouth.

Darla gave a delighted little noise and fed him the donut. The soft dough collapsed between his teeth, sweet and dense. He chewed slowly, conscious of the eyes on him, conscious of the weight of it all. Not the donut, but the moment. The symbolism.

“Aww, look!” Darla chirped, practically bursting. She turned back to Sara, who was already laughing. “Look how cute!”

Lucas swallowed, still holding the box in one hand, balloons drifting slightly with his movement. Darla gently pushed the rest of the donut into his mouth and then spun on her heel, scampering toward the kitchen.

He stood there, chewing. With his lingering thoughts and props.

Sara grinned at him, gave him two thumbs up like a proud stage mom. He narrowed his eyes slightly, but the corner of his mouth curled up despite himself. It was all so surreal.

Darla returned just moments later, moving quickly in her heels, now carrying a tall glass filled with something thick and pink—strawberry milk, probably. A pastel pink reusable straw poked from the top. She didn’t hesitate as she stepped up to him and lifted it to his mouth.

Lucas hesitated only a second before wrapping his lips around the straw and sucking. The milk was rich and cold. Much silkier, sweeter, and tangier than he expected. His brain kept reminding him how strange this all was, but he took a few more sips anyway.

Darla squealed again. “Oh my god, you’re adorable. I’m gonna die.”

Lucas pulled back slightly, licking a bit of milk from his lip. He was still trying to find his footing in this whole scene. The theatrics, the roles, the expectations.

And yet, some part of him warmed at how much joy it brought her.

“Gosh, you must be so hungry, huh?” Darla asked then, cocking her head. Her voice was gentle, curious. It took him a second to process that she was talking to him. Addressing him directly for the first time.

Lucas blinked, caught off guard. “Uhh… yeah,” he said, voice low. “I— I could eat.”

It wasn’t a lie. Besides a light breakfast he hadn’t eaten much of anything else all day, too caught up in preparing for the reveal.

Darla turned to Sara, her expression shifting, still excited, but now serious in that decisive way people get when they’ve just made up their mind about something. “We should order him some food.”

Sara didn’t miss a beat, already pulling out her phone. “Sure babe. What do you wanna feed him?”

Lucas stood there as the two of them cozied up together, scrolling, tapping, laughing at certain menu options like they were picking out something for a date night, not him. He shifted from one foot to the other, still holding the donuts, the balloons bobbing beside his head. Watching them choose what would go into his stomach. What they thought he should eat. What they wanted his body to become.

He swallowed and let out a quiet breath, eyes drifting down to the donut box again.

He wondered—briefly, honestly—what exactly he had gotten himself into.

Chapter 6

Sara leaned back against the counter, arms crossed loosely over her chest, watching as Darla fluttered around their dining table like a butterfly with a mission. Lucas sat stiffly in one of the white wooden chairs, surrounded by an ever-diminishing sea of takeout containers and half-unwrapped sauces. Darla hovered at his side with a plastic fork in hand, her smile beaming with pride as she presented him with another bite of something greasy and golden.

“Try this one,” she said, holding it out to him expectantly.

Lucas was still chewing the last thing she’d given him, his jaw working overtime. His eyes darted to Sara, just for a moment, a brief flicker of overwhelmed discomfort. But he nodded anyway, obedient and pliant, opening his mouth again as Darla eagerly fed him.

He looked a bit frazzled—face slightly pink, stomach clearly rounding out beneath that ridiculous outfit she’d picked out—but he was holding it together. She could see him trying. Trying to be good. Trying to keep up. That hint of panic behind his eyes only made Darla more giddy, and Sara could barely contain her own satisfaction watching it all play out.

Lucas had taken to his role more smoothly than she’d expected. Sure, there were moments where he blinked like a deer in headlights, clearly unsure of what to do with his hands or his expression. But then he’d meet Darla’s eyes, and it would soften something in him. He’d smile, or at least try to, and that seemed to be enough to keep Darla on cloud nine.

Sara’s heart swelled.

Darla was radiant. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, her lips constantly parting into delighted little giggles. She kept fussing, adding a napkin here, wiping the corner of Lucas’ mouth there, pushing more food into his hands like she was afraid he might vanish if she paused. She was talking nonstop now, mostly about the future. Half-joking plans about themed dinners and binge days that would be anything but restrained.

And Lucas, poor guy, just kept nodding and swallowing and murmuring things like “yeah, sounds good,” in between bites. At some point, Sara had noticed his posture start to slump, a silent concession that he was reaching his limit. But Darla didn’t seem to notice. Or if she did, she chose not to care. She was too happy. Too enamored.

Sara bit her lip, watching them. A kind of ache bloomed behind her ribs. Not a bad one, more like an ache of satisfaction, of something finally fitting into place. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Darla so purely, innocently thrilled. It was the kind of joy that came without conditions. That rare, unfiltered happiness that so few people ever got to feel as adults.

And she had given that to her.

Lucas let out a small, barely audible sigh as he leaned back in the chair. His hands dropped to his lap, his belly visibly full, rising and falling beneath the stretch of his shirt. He didn’t speak, probably couldn’t, but he stayed where he was, letting Darla talk his ear off without protest. She’d transitioned from food talk to decorating ideas now, rambling about rearranging the spare bedroom, maybe painting the walls a different color. “I want you to feel comfortable, you know?” she said, twirling a ringlet of hair around her finger.

Sara smirked to herself.

She really was the best girlfriend. She deserved a damn trophy. Who else would go through all this trouble? Finding someone, negotiating the deal, setting it all up without giving away a hint of the surprise? She’d coordinated everything, and the results spoke for themselves.

She glanced back at Lucas. He caught her eye and blinked slowly, face flushed and mouth slightly open as he exhaled, looking like he needed a break more than anything. There was a quiet resignation in his gaze too, though. Maybe acceptance. But he wasn’t trying to bolt. He was staying. He seemed committed, in his own awkward, uncomfortable way.

Sara nodded to herself.

Yeah. This was going to work.

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