A Little Extra Room-Part 5

Trixie glowered down at the phone gripped in both of her pudgy hands, pouting. 

‘Update?’ Read Justin's most recent message. 

‘There is no update’, she typed, the message needing several corrective backspaces as her chubby finger attempted to navigate the screen. 

She used to be a lightning-fast texter, constantly in contact with her friends and group chats, constantly posting on social media, but since Justin had porked her up into a tubby little blob bursting with fat on every little part of her body, her digital dexterity had decreased significantly. 

‘Then send me a pic’, came Justin's immediate reply, and Trixie’s frown deepened. 

‘I don’t wanna.’ she answered curtly, punctuating the message with a period to emphasize her less-than-sunny disposition.

‘Y are u being grumpy?’ came Justin's response, and Trixie set the phone down and sighed. 

He knew full well why she was being so grumpy, and although he was to blame, it wasn't exactly his fault. Justin had been on a work trip for the last week and a half, the longest the two of them had been apart in years, and she missed him terribly. She wasn't expecting to feel this way, had no idea that the past few years of constant proximity would make her so averse to spending time on her own, but ever since Justin had left for the airport she’d had an attitude, one she couldn't shake despite the fact that Justin never would’ve chosen to leave her if it were up to him. 

She’d been moping, sleeping, and most importantly, eating nonstop since he’d left, and trying not to think about her suddenly self-motivated gluttony, an appetite that was quickly beginning to surpass the limits of what Justin would force upon her, was only worsening the dark cloud coloring her emotional forecast. 

She pushed another sprinkle-adorned mini cupcake into her mouth in a single bite, her double chin rippling with the effort of chewing the oversized mouthful, and immediately reached for another, her mouth too full to cram in the next treat but her frosting-covered hand poised and ready. 

She’d been absolutely insatiable since he’d departed, and while she promised Justin she’d eat good for him while he was gone, she knew even he would be amazed to see what she’d done to herself over the last 11 days. Trixie was always at her heaviest weight, hadn't dropped a single ounce in the last four years while packing on over 140 pounds of plush, wobbling, protruding fat, but the last little stretch of weight gain felt different. She’d never felt this enormous, never looked down at her body with so much surprise and horror. 

She’d woken up each morning for the past week and a half beached on the couch after the night’s final binge, burping the second she opened her eyes and often too full to move for at least an hour, instead choosing to snack lightly on the leftovers snacks she’d fallen asleep among until she felt she’d digested enough to struggle to her feet. Her gut pinned her down in a way it never had, and she’d been forced to make the grim realization that although Justin liked to help her get up, although it turned him on to feel how heavy she was despite his gym-honed strength, she’d actually begun to legitimately require the help. Heaving herself to her feet would be hard enough at her weight, but her impossibly rounded, swollen gut, still bulging forward and near perfectly spherical despite its fleshy heft, made pushing herself off the couch a monumental task. 

She swore her gut was growing by the day, and if the deepening stretch marks itching their way up either side of her belly button were any evidence, it was. Her belly, never anything less than packed, was taking on the brunt of the new weight packing itself onto her frame, and she’d completely abandoned her shirts because of the way the hems of even her loosest tees dug into her gut so tightly that they left angry red lines encircling her mass directly above her deepened belly button, the shirts far too tight to be tugged down any further. 

Her waddle had become even more exaggerated, her efforts to offset the massive weight in her perpetually bloated, beer gut shaped belly only serving to exhaust her and make her jiggle even more when she plodded to the kitchen for more snacks. 

Kathy’s pregnancy accusations in the grocery store just a few weeks ago were ringing truer and truer, and Trixie found herself holding her back as she waddled just to try and keep her balance, her fatty gut bouncing up and down rhythmically with each heavy footfall. That was the thing that let her know just how much she’d put on, she couldn't even move an inch without her gut moving along with her, every step making the swollen orb undulate wildly. 

She was typically so full that the top of her swollen ball gut was rock hard, and she’d gone from only being able to rest her hands on the crest of the swell when she was so full she felt she might pop to using the permanently rounded pile of fat on her middle as a table to rest the next meal she was gorging herself on. She wondered how she must look, her slobbish gluttony even more exaggerated than what Justin would typically force on her. She’d refused to admit that, refused to even consider it, and instead ate the multitude of feelings she was intent on stuffing down alongside another pizza. 

When she’d examined herself in the mirror the afternoon before, finally completing the daily workout of pushing her roll-covered body into a standing position and waddling to her bedroom to shower, she’d paused in the mirror, wondering exactly how it was that the solidly obese pig in the mirror was really her. She no longer had any excuses, could no longer blame Justin for her excess, and what she’d done to herself, done to herself in such a short time, was as mind-boggling as it was terrifying. 

She didn't recognize the chubby-cheeked, double-chinned blob with the quickly disappearing neck. She couldn't possibly have swollen, melon size breasts fighting to burst free from a too-tight sports bra, excess fat spilling from every side of the struggling undergarment and tits that, despite how heavily they now rested on her ever-growing gut, still pushed up to what felt like her chin, the dizzying amount of cleavage impressive even to her judgmental gaze. 

It couldn't be her with the upper arms wider in circumference than most women's thighs, lumpy with fat and jiggling incessantly at the slightest movement. She couldn't have those pudge-bloated wrists that were beginning to crease whenever she used her hands, those tubby little fingers that had swollen up like overfilled sausages. It just didn't make sense. 

She’d been thin, she’d been active, she told Justin that she would just gain a few pounds for him because he liked it so much. She couldn't have grown the gut that stuck out so far in front of her it entered a room before she did, bulged further than her tits and her ass and made it impossible for her to even attempt sucking in. Her hips couldn't possibly have grown wide enough to prevent her from fitting into her and Justin's broken sliding closet door, a door she swore he refused to fix because he liked to watch her pant with effort whenever she had to squeeze herself inside. 

Her ass couldn't have possibly become this titanic, her newly slowed gait exaggerating its near scandalous movement whenever she shuffled about to fill her face once more. She couldn't possibly have gotten too big for all her sweatpants, leaving her to cram her impossibly large, impossibly round behind into pairs of panties that were ripping more and more each time she changed, ignoring the trademark pops of the underequipped seams as she fought to work the poor pieces of lace up her dimpled, rippling thighs that got thicker with each calorie-laden snack. She couldn't have gotten fat enough that she had cankles, that even her feet were unrecognizably pudgy. She just couldn't have. It couldn't be her. 

Yet, when she raised an arm, the bloated, planetary pile of blubber in the mirror followed suit. When she smacked her gut, the steady wiggle and jiggle that she felt originate in her midsection and spread across the rest of her body like waves stared back at her. When she turned to inspect herself, the ballooning girl in the mirror also turned, and Trixie was having a more and more difficult time mentally disconnecting herself from her image. 

How could she? She was growing ever more aware of the overfed cow she’d become and could feel it all the time. Feel the heaviness of the mass she’d piled on her body weighing her down, feel herself moving more and more slowly as if the fat bulging from every inch of her wasn't really a part of her body, as if she was trapped in an enormous fat suit and beholden to lug it around everywhere she went. Her time without Justin hadn’t slowed her gain, in fact it had only accelerated the plumping, but it had hastened her realizations. She was huge. Undeniably, irreversibly blimped into a wobbling, flabby pile of lard. 

The stretch marks covering her belly weren’t the only iterations of the evidence of her rapid growth, and her love handles, now too fleshy to grip the entirety of in one hand, bore the same zig zags of red that were also spreading across the tops of her thighs, up her flabby biceps, and all over her ass. She was gaining faster than her body could accommodate for, and without Justin to rub her down in lotion every night, her skin was taking the brunt of the toll. 

Without Justin, there were a lot of things that Trixie needed that were going unaccounted for. Things she wasn’t quite aware were such an integral, such a central part of her daily feasts. Justin wasn't able to feed her, wasn't even able to watch her eat on her own, without lust overtaking him in one way or another. Acting as a voyeur while she made a pig of herself every day, feeling the new, swelling rolls of fat squish pliably in his grip, all of it drove Justin to a feral madness, made him rip her clothes off and sink his teeth into her fatty flesh like he was an animal. 

He got a wild, uncontrollable look in his eyes, he’d forget himself and get rough, aggressive, and demanding in his primal need for her. And Trixie loved every minute of it. She and Justin had always had a sort of dom/sub dynamic, even when she was thin, but the bigger she got, the less Justin seemed able to reign in that side of him. Lately, it was like his passion had grown into an inability to practice a modicum of patience, and he was now constantly stopping her in the middle of feasts to fill her mouth with something else, constantly rock hard when Trixie was doing little of note: sitting on the couch with a bag of chips, bending as best she could to grab another pint of ice cream off the bottom shelf of the freezer, even brushing her teeth was starting to drive him wild. 

It was like she’d grown so fat, become so irresistibly and overwhelmingly desirable in his eyes, that her very existence was now sexual. The fact that she sat there, buried in piles of fat that were entirely Justin's doing, was enough of a seduction to leave him unable to think of anything else. Daily sex was the norm, whether it was Trixie's bulge-laden body wobbling uncontrollably while she rocked lazily atop her far fitter boyfriend as he did all the work, or, more often, sex in which Trixie was too beached to move, her moans and groans partially borne of the intense pleasure justin always ensured and partially because each thrust jostled her overcrammed belly. 

Every time Justin fed her he also got her off, and Trixie had taken it for granted for so long that she hadn't even considered that the worst part of discovering that she wanted to stuff herself every day even without Justin's influences was the carnal, aching need for him afterwards. Although she wasn't yet fat enough for real, more serious mobility impairments, the refusal of Trixie’s beach ball belly to finally succumb to gravity and begin to hang was presenting her with an intimate issue that Justin kept her too satisfied to even consider; she could barely reach past her gut. 

Trying to stretch her arm over the spherical swell of it, especially when she was sitting down, had become such a task that she could hardly brush the fattest part of her belly with her fingertips, and that meant that her multiple attempts to take care of her own needs since Justin had absconded for his business trip had all been far less than successful. 

After the previous night's larger-than-average stuffing she’d been achingly desperate, her uncomfortably tight panties entirely soaked through as she burped and panted with increasingly frantic attempts to handle her own needs, to recreate even a fraction of the way that Justin’s hands, his body, made her feel. She was too horny to be embarrassed, overflowing with too much desire to take a second to consider why exactly she needed outside assistance just to make herself cum, but after a breathless final attempt, she’d made a very impulsive purchase, paying a fortune for overnight delivery. 

A vibrator. The first one she’d ever owned, and all because her lover had made her just as obsessed with pleasure as she was with food, intertwining the two things intrinsically in her mind so that she couldn't think of one without the other, couldn't feel her hands pressing into the swell of her packed gut without imagining Justin using her as his plaything immediately afterwards. 

That was part of the reason she was so grumpy, although she could hardly admit it to herself, much less to Justin. She needed to get off, and since he wouldn't be home for another four days, she was officially taking matters into, or more accurately out of, her own hands. 

‘I’m not being grumpy’ she finally responded after a longer than average pause. ‘I just miss you:/’

‘I miss you more baby,’ came Justin's quick response. ‘I’m having something special delivered for u tonight cause i miss u so much’

Trixie rolled her eyes, knowing it would be another food delivery like he’d sent the majority of the nights he’d been gone, but still slightly looking forward to whatever calorie-heavy treats he decided to send. The night before it had been a veritable mountain of doughnuts, and two nights prior he’d sent enough Chinese food for a family of four. All he asked was that she send him pictures when she completed the meals, and after protesting each time that there would be no way she could finish it all, the night had ended with a snapshot of Trixie’s painfully tight gut surrounded by quite a few empty containers, far more than Justin had originally sent. 

She’d been careful about her angles in those still-revealing selfies, ashamed for the first time at the thought that Justin would notice her body getting bigger and bigger. Without him physically there to validate her with his mouth and his touch, to feel the undeniable evidence of his attraction pressed against her, she’d begun to fight the lingering, anxiety-inducing feeling that she might grow too fat for him. Worse, that she already had. 

It was illogical, even silly considering she knew him better than anyone, but it still lurked in the furthest corners of her mind like an intruder, waiting until she was occupied to spring to action and steal her confidence in her relationship, rob her of her surety in Justin's love for the body he’d created. 

She had chalked up her influx of irrationality, her suddenly massive appetite and its effects, and her wildly fluctuating moods to the fact that she simply needed to get laid, and while the urgency of last night's little online purchase still made her face flush when she thought about it, she was certain it was all she needed to feel herself again, for everything to go back to normal. 

She devoured the second mini cupcake in a single bite in keeping with the first, and scarfed down the final three in minutes, emptying the 24-pack  and officially leaving her without any remaining snacks. Alongside her ever-increasing deliveries from various restaurants,  Trixie had taken to sending out for her groceries as well, something she never had to do when Justin was there as he kept their home well stocked with the junk that continually added to the plushness of Trixie's softening figure. 

Her last grocery haul depleted, she swiped from her messages to the delivery app that was always in her most recents, putting together an order comprised of family-sized bags of barbeque and potato chips, another jar of cheese puffs, a brand of sugary sweet cereal she preferred to eat straight from the box, and of course, more miniaturized treats. This time she’d gone with cupcakes, donut holes, and an assorted host of Little Debbie pastries: a box of honey buns, two boxes of zebra cakes, a box of swiss rolls, and, one of her favorite even when she’d been thin and health conscious, 2 boxes of cosmic brownies. Her sweet tooth, while always catered to by the kinds of meals that Justin gave her, had taken over entirely since he’d left, and she could hardly go an hour without some form of dessert.

She sat back with her order placed, frowning a bit as she fought to ignore the hunger that she knew full well didn’t coincide with the amount she’d eaten that day, and flicked the TV to life, swiping back to her conversation to heart Justin’s message without response. She just needed to keep the conversation between them infrequent and light, already guilty about the attitude she’d had with him for no reason. 

As he works to provide for us no less, she mentally chided herself.

She sighed, flipping through channels that didn't interest her in the slightest, when she heard the familiar buzzing of the front doorbell. 

Her head lifted in attention, confusion wrinkling her brow. She’d just ordered her groceries minutes ago, and although she was a very frequent customer, she didn't think that the priority delivery she coughed up an extra $2.99 for was quite this impressive. 

She scooched forward, her bloated but not quite stuffed belly hindering her progress less than it usually did, rocked a bit on the edge of the couch, and heaved herself upward, embarrassed at the grunt the effort required despite her solitude. She waddled to the door, licking excess frosting from her fingers, and pulled it open, already looking down and expecting a bushel of brown grocery bags chock full of her favorites. Instead, an indescript cardboard box lay innocently on her stoop, the delivery truck from whence it had come already pulling around the corner in the time it took Lexi to wobble her way across her living room. 

Realizing what it was with a start, Trixie almost lost her balance in her urgency to snatch the box from her doorstep and hustle inside, the always surprising heft of her gut never something she was truly prepared to accommodate for. While the box bore no marking or branding, she suddenly felt as if the driver had known exactly what it was and why she needed it, as if all her neighbors had peeked through their window blinds to speculate on how she’d gotten so fat she couldn't even touch herself anymore, was forced to rely on assistance for something she should've been in decent enough shape to do on her own. She was mortified, red-faced, and huffing lightly from her quick burst of exertion, and she ashenly waddled back to the couch, feeling markedly observed. 

She looked around as if to confirm what she already knew, that she was alone, and flopped back onto the couch with a loud exhale, the springs creaking in warning and protest as her weight settled upon the weakening frame. She tore open the box, unable to stop herself from giggling at the absurdity of the situation as she unwrapped the bright purple toy, and held it up as if to inspect it, for the most part unfamiliar with sex toys and their many settings. She’d seen a couple videos where they were used of course, but with a sex life as satisfying as the one she and Justin shared, porn was not a huge part of her sexual interests or desires. 

She pressed the ‘on’ button hesitantly, giggling again as the toy buzzed to life. She watched it with interest, as if it were about to perform some sort of trick, then pressed the mode button, discovering that with each press, a new series and pattern of buzzes at varying speeds and levels of intensity cycled through. She pressed the button until her new purchase was on its original setting once more, then placed it down on the couch next to her, feeling more self-conscious than she could logically explain. While she was excited that the toy was delivered, she didn't feel the same insatiable urgency from the previous night that had led to its purchase in the first place. Now, she just felt silly. 

Should I just throw it away? She thought, suddenly certain that she’d just paid for something she’d never be using. 

In fact, now that she was considering it, she realized that she was more than a little disappointed that the ring of the doorbell hadn't heralded the arrival of the snacks she’d ordered. She grabbed her phone to check her delivery driver's progress only to see her order had been reassigned, her $2.99 fee for expedition returned with a clearly automated apology, and sighed, feeling the attitude she’d been trying to stuff down resurge with a vengeance. 

The thought suddenly occurred to her that although she’d been grazing since the moment she opened her eyes, putting away more calories than most people did in 48 hours before 5pm, she hadn't really stuffed herself yet, had let her steady intake of food prevent her from going as far as she normally did, as far as Justin pushed her. Those kinds of stuffings were usually reserved for the nighttime, and that's also when she’d been missing Justin the most. When she’d tried to take care of herself and found she was unable. When she’d ordered the artificial source of pleasure in the first place. She wasn't horny because she wasn’t full enough. 

The realization was one she likely should've come to prior to that moment, but the lack of consideration of the matter on her part, mostly due to her own humiliation surrounding the way eating and sex had become intertwined in her mind, had delayed her typically apt reasoning. 

Feeling as if she’d just been on the stand, forced to admit that thought not to herself, but to a courtroom of spectators, Trixie's face buried bright red as she heaved herself off the couch again to waddle to the freezer. There were no uneaten snacks in the house that she was craving, but there were a few pints of ice cream left. Flavors she didn't prefer, sure, but ice cream nonetheless. 

She was very well accustomed to chugging melted ice cream, one of Justin's favorite ways to feed her, and popping both cartons in the microwave for a second, just enough to loosen up the ice cream to slide out of the cardboard and into the blender, was something she’d watched him do countless times. 

She blended both containers together on high to warm and liquefy them even further, watching the chocolate swirl together with the moose tracks until the blend was one homogeneous, chocolate chip and peanut butter cup studded color. She hit the pulse button a final time, considering a cup before deciding that the blender itself was as good a drinking vessel as any, removed it from the base, and waddled back to the couch, the anticipatory feeling that had been missing when she originally tested out the settings on her new purchase now rising within her. 

She settled back on the couch in a comfortable position with the blender pitcher balanced in one hand, then adjusted herself until she was laying with her back to the couch's arm and her legs stretched out in front of her, the couch Justin had bought when she started to grow still large enough for her to spread her thick thighs in order to make room for her belly. 

She took a small investigatory sip of the caloric convention, unsure how the combination of double chocolate chunk and moose tracks would rate on her finely honed milkshake chugging scale, and was pleased to realize it was delicious, far better than she’d expected. She took a larger gulp, then another, then she was chugging the pitcher with abandon, rivulets of chocolatey cream running down either side of her face as she drank faster and faster, imagining Justin was there to tip the container higher and increase the flow despite her protests. 

She took on his role instead, playing both feedee and feeder, and forced herself to down the shake faster than she actually thought she could, suddenly desperate to feel the side-splitting ache of an overly full tummy in the way she was used to. As she neared the halfway point her slow and steady eating of the day was beginning to catch up with her, and she gasped as she took a break to breathe, already feeling her belly growing tight and pushing out further. She rubbed her gut, noting its reduced jiggle as it continually swelled outward, and gave it a well-placed smack, producing a loud burp that she treated as a sign to return to the task at hand. 

She lifted the pitched again and chugged as if she’d been starving, more ice cream running down her face and chilling the tops of her milky, bulging breasts, overexposed due to the tightness of her bra and the lack of clothing she was willing to put the effort to squeeze into. She took another break, panting, and burped twice more, finally leaning into the feeling that had overtaken her and made her so impulsive the night before. 

She felt like she was with Justin. She missed him, and the only thing she wanted in the world was his hands on her belly, rubbing slow circles as he worked his way further and further down her body. The idea made her moan into the next gulp, and she let the fattening liquid pour down her throat even faster, the thought of the toy that lay next to her somehow far less silly, far less embarrassing than it had been only a few moments before. 

She finished the combined pints, licking the excess from her lips, and grabbed the vibrator next to her like a woman possessed, holding down the power button to bring it to life and immediately attempting to angle it properly in order to wield it for her untoward purposes. Her little realization about what she needed to get worked up was proving more than accurate, and she once again found herself with a mind full of flashbacks and a pair of panties she was quickly soaking through. 

She pressed the quickly humming toy against the thin, overtaxed lace of her panties and surprised herself with a deep and immediate moan of pleasure, the unexpectedly intoxicating sensation overpowering her sensibilities and making her forgo any qualms entirely. She pressed the mode button, nearly crying out as the changing intensity made her breath hitch in her throat, then squeezed her eyes shut, the pleasure almost too much to handle after 11 days of complying with her fat gut’s enforced celibacy. 

Suddenly desperate for more, she set the still buzzing vibrator down and worked and wiggled her way out of the undersized panties, hearing more seams popping and lace ripping as she worked them down her tubby legs as quickly as she could. She grabbed her newfound joy again, this time hesitating (although in anticipation or apprehension, she wasn't certain), then began to slowly work the pulsating silicon in gentle circles around her clit, unable to stem the tidal wave of breathy moans that burst from her at the first point of contact. 

She could barely believe she was doing this but simultaneously had no time to consider her actions, each pulsation elevating the pitch of her moans and the fat coating her entire body jiggling and wobbling uncontrollably from the pleasure she was inflicting upon herself. She whimpered, and although she was barely able to take the second level she pressed the mode button again and turned it to the third, a deeper more guttural moan exploding from within her as she forgot herself entirely and allowed the feeling of pure bliss to overtake her. To wrap itself around her mind until it was all that she could think about, all that she was. 

She thought of Justin and her pleasure multiplied, imagining he was the one gripping and controlling the toy that was quickly gaining control of all of her sensibilities, quickly bringing her to the point of ecstasy with a rate of speed that could only be attributed to her seemingly never-ending dry spell in her lover's absence. 

Her now continual moaning reached a fever pitch, and she arched her back as best as she could while rubbing her massive, tightly bloated gut with the other hand, her head thrown back and her eyes squeezed shut as her gentle circles became more and more aggressive. Her breaths came out in desperate little gasps as the fullness of her packed gut combined with the mounting pressure on her swollen clit, and her fingers were damped by the wetness that was drenching the now slick toy. 

She went silent, her eyes all but rolling back in her head as she began to buck her hips, the movement making her overstuffed gut bounce up and down, when she heard the unmistakable sounds of the door knob hitting the wall of the entryway, a telltale sign that someone had opened it with too much force.

She screamed at the sudden noise, torn from her pleasure, confused, and terrified, and the first thought that she had was that her delivery driver had broken in for some reason entirely unbeknownst to her, aware as he must've been that there was someone home. 

“Trixie what the-” Justin bellowed, rounding the corner to see the scene on the couch and stopping short, his work bag falling from his hand to the floor with a muted thump as his jaw dropped to match.

 “..fuck,” he finished quietly, taking in the scene.

“Fuck,” Trixie breathed in repetition, her voice still laden with the effects of the orgasm she’d been seconds from bringing herself to. “What- what are you doing here?” she panted, shifting in an ineffectual attempt to hide what she’d been doing.

“I came back early to surprise you, I heard you from the front door and thought you were cheating on me,” Justin explained in a rush, his widened eyes fixed solidly on her and his expression bearing both confusion and lust. “Wait, wait,” he corrected. “What are you doing? Where did you get that, you didn't tell me about-”

“I’m sorry,” Trixie whined, still caught up in the throes of her own passion. “I’m sorry baby, I'm sorry. It's just that I missed you so bad and I needed you so much and I just wanted-”

“Baby, you look huge,” Justin breathed in interruption, marveling at the beached whale barely held up by the struggling couch, the spot where she lay sinking even lower than it had when he left. “You look-”

He was clearly searching for words but found none, instead taking a step towards her as if he wasn't sure she was real, as if he couldn’t differentiate between his wet dreams and wildest fantasies and the greedy porker fucking herself with a vibrator right in front of him. 

“Where-?” he began again, cutting himself off. “Why did you get that? You got that cause of me? Cause you needed me?”

His eyes fell to the ground in front of her, somehow immediately noting the empty blender pitcher amongst all the assorted wrappers and snacks. 

“And you made your own shake?”

Trixie nodded, biting the inside of her lip and looking away in shame. To do what she’d done was one thing, but to be caught, to be so unabashedly loud…

“Look at me,” Justin demanded gently, his voice soft and bursting with obvious affection and lust. “Baby, look at me.”

Trixie looked up, the recurring flush of red that kept rising in situations surrounding the vibrator coloring her cheeks once more. 

“You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said, taking another step. “I can’t even fucking stand it. You’re so beautiful, your body is so perfect, I can’t-” he cut himself off again with a shaky sigh, the dress slacks he usually wore to work tenting in front of Trixie’s eyes as his body responded to hers. 

“I just wanna take care of you,” he said, reaching her with his final few steps and brushing his fingertips across the crest of her belly with a touch so light yet so intense it made tingles run through Trixie’s entire body, reignited the lighting that had been coursing through her just moments before he walked in the door. 

“Will you let me take care of you?” he pleaded in a whisper, his typical dominant bravado evaporated. “Please,” he repeated in an even quieter tone. “Baby, please, please let me take care of you.”

Trixie’s breath was quickening again as Justin brought his face to hers, and he kissed her on the forehead before bringing his lips to her lips, kissing her deeply and intertwining their tongues while he reached for her other hand, gently prying away the vibrator she’d made a poor attempt to conceal. 

“Please?” Justin repeated, pulling back, and Trixie nodded, knowing that Justin would do just as he promised. 

Take care of her. Again, and again, and again.