HIS CHUBBY STEPDAUGHTER

MICHELA;

"Look, Chela, Nathan doesn't see you in that light," Jemy said for the umpteenth time.

Trust me, that line of hers had become stale. I had heard it for the longest time, and she was starting to sound like a broken record.

I shifted in the stiff library chair, feeling the wood press into the backs of my thighs. A couple of students whispered at a table nearby, but mostly it was quiet enough that Jemy's voice carried even though she was trying to keep it down.

"So, you would rather have me..."

"Leave him! Forget him!" Jemy cut in, leaning forward so her braids swung like pendulums. "I don't get how you still run after that pompous, arrogant boy... What's so special about him? Ugh!"

She was doing it again, getting on my last nerve and refusing to meet my eyes. She knew exactly how much I hated when she talked about Nathan like that. He wasn't all that bad, he just had... distractions.

I pressed my lips together and gripped the edge of my notebook, the pages crinkling under my fingers. Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks.

"Now you're sounding like you're new in Rockville College, Jemy... That guy is the hottest on campus! No doubt why he has a bit of a sexy attitude," I said, forcing the words out even though they tasted a little sour. I swallowed hard, because deep down I knew the truth was harder to swallow.

"Sexy?" Jemy let out a short laugh that made the girl at the next table glance over. "You call talking down on you sexy? You call him taunting you about your size at any slight chance he gets sexy? Wake up, girl." She flipped through her notebook pages with quick, irritated flicks.

I glanced down at my soft stomach where it rested against the table. My fingers moved automatically to tug at the hem of my shirt, then stopped. The air conditioning hummed above us, blowing cool air that made the little hairs on my arms stand up.

I knew Jemy had no patience for younger guys. Her own boyfriend... or manfriend, whatever she called him... was a forty-five-year-old billionaire.

She never gave me his name, according to her, their relationship is discreet and she loves it that way. I had seen the evidence with my own eyes. Sleek black cars with dark windows pulling up to drop her off after long weekends.

Designer bags appearing on her arm out of nowhere. Her phone buzzing with notifications that meant her bills were handled without her lifting a finger.

"I know you don't believe in dating younger guys but I have known Nathan for the longest and we spoke last evening. He promised to make it up to me." I pushed my chair back and stood up fast, not wanting to give her another chance to talk me out of it. I swung my backpack over my shoulder, feeling the strap dig into my skin.

Jemy's hand shot out and caught my wrist. Her fingers felt warm and steady.

"You deserve men, not boys. A man who will appreciate your body and how beautiful you are, Michela." Her voice dropped low, almost a whisper. The library was so quiet it felt loud.

For a second, an image flashed in my mind... Miles at the kitchen table this morning, shirtless, mumbling one of his favourite songs, looking at me over his coffee mug like I was something special.

The way his eyes had lingered lately. I pushed the thought away quickly, my stomach doing a little flip. He was my stepdad, and definitely not the 'man' Jemy was insinuating.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Jem," I purred, forcing a bright smile. "I want Nathan and he's not as bad as you're painting him... Well, if not for all those girls distracting him. I'm the one he needs, not them, not that Jessika."

"Very well then, Cupid's victim... I've got a shoulder strong enough to cry on." Jemy raised both hands in mock surrender. She looked back down at her open book, but I could tell she was still frowning, and somehow wishing she were my mother, not just my best friend.

I leaned down and planted a warm kiss on her cheek, smelling her familiar vanilla lip balm.

"I'll tell you how it went later." I winked, trying to sound confident, then hurried out of the library before she could say anything else.

My heartbeat sped up as I pulled the birthday package out of my backpack. Jemy would have talked me to death had she seen it.

Inside was a jersey in Nathan's favorite deep forest green. I had spent extra time picking the right size, imagining how the fabric would stretch across his shoulders. Tucked inside was a handwritten note... the first one I had ever added for him. My cheeks warmed just thinking about him reading my words.

It was Nathan's birthday. I had known him since Mom married Miles Stewart four years ago and we moved into the neighborhood.

Back then he was the cool boy next door who smiled at me like I mattered. Over the years we became friends... and a little more.

Because in this friendship, we had kissed so many times, quick, breathless ones in his car or hidden at Wills and words, my stepdad's bookshop.

But every time I tried to push for more or asked what we were, he would pull back with that crooked smile and remind me I was "a lot to handle." According to him, he couldn't lift my leg even if he wanted to.

I swallowed hard as I stepped out into the warm afternoon sun. The heat pressed against my skin. I looked down at the package and ran my thumb over the ribbon.

Maybe today would change things. The note said everything I had been keeping inside, how I thought about him constantly, how I wanted to be the girl who made his birthday special, as always.

I waved down a cab at the edge of campus. And in a few minutes, I stood outside of Nathan's off-campus apartment.

I looked down at myself, just to make sure I looked like a snack. My jeans hugged my thighs tightly, the way they always did, but I had chosen them on purpose. They made my curves look good. I grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and tied it in a little knot at the side, just enough to show a soft strip of my belly and my navel.

The package felt warm and solid in my grip. I brushed a stray lock of hair away from my face, took one deep breath, then another, trying to calm the flutter in my chest.

"Perfect," I mumbled to myself, closing my eyes for just a second.

I could already picture Nathan's surprised face when he opened the door, the way he might pull me inside, maybe even kiss me right there in the doorway before I could say happy birthday.

I took one more step closer to his door, raised my hand, and knocked.

Then the door was pulled open. And it wasn't who I was expecting to see.

MICHELA;

Jessika!

The same girl Nathan had told me about last night was throwing herself at him. The same one he swore he wasn't interested in and only kept around for study help.

Yet there she stood, opening the door of his apartment, wearing nothing but his white button-up shirt. The shirt hung loose on her, the top buttons undone so her breasts swayed freely underneath.

The moment her eyes landed on me, an ugly smirk curled her lips. She crossed one smooth leg in front of the other, holding the door half-closed like she owned the place. My gaze dropped to her long bare legs.

I could tell she wasn't wearing anything underneath, my heart thumped almost loudly in my chest.

"Babe, who's at the door?" Nathan's voice called from inside, casual and lazy.

My stomach dropped like a stone. He called her babe? He actually called Jessika babe. The word echoed in my head while my throat tightened.

"Nothing important, sweet," Jessika answered, her smirk growing wider. She leaned against the doorframe. "Just some sack of potatoes of a human."

My fists clenched hard at my sides, nails digging into my palms. She had mumbled the last part of her sentence, just loud enough for my ears only.

I had dealt with Jessika and her friends mocking me at school for months, but this... standing here in Nathan's shirt, fresh from his bed, throwing those words at me... felt like a slap across the face, that was an ugly pill to swallow.

Footsteps padded closer. Nathan appeared behind her, wearing only tight black boxers that clung to his body. The front bulged obviously, still half-hard like he had just been interrupted. His hair was messy, skin flushed. His easy smile froze the second he saw me standing there with the birthday package in my hands. His eyebrows shot up.

"Hey, Fat-suh. You're here?" he asked, not even trying to sound sorry.

"Don't call me that!" I snapped, my voice cracking as I fought back the hot sting of tears.

Jessika laughed sharply.

"Why not, beanbag? You hate hearing what you really are?" She turned her head toward Nathan, still smirking.

"Leave her, Jess. I'll handle this." Nathan's hand slid around her waist, fingers resting possessively on her hip.

Jessika flipped her messy blonde hair over her shoulder in that sarcastic way and sauntered back inside, her bare ass cheeks moving under the shirt as she walked.

I stood frozen, clutching the package so tightly the ribbon dug into my fingers.

"Jess? Really?" My voice came out small. "You're calling her Jess now? And I'm the one who..."

Nathan stepped out onto the front porch and pulled the door mostly shut behind him. He reached out and grabbed my shoulders in that fake-playful way he always did, like I was a kid he needed to calm down.

"Don't make a big fuss out of this, Fat-suh," he said, grinning like the whole thing was some joke.

"I said don't call me that!" I blurted louder, tears burning at the corners of my eyes.

"Okay, okay," he raised both hands, still smiling like none of this hurt. "What's this in your hand?" He nodded toward the package.

I looked down at the bright blue wrapping and silver ribbon. My chest ached. I had saved up to get him what he really wanted, and had picked the perfect jersey, writing that long note, pouring my feelings onto the paper. Now it felt stupid and heavy in my arms. I lifted my eyes back to his face, my vision blurring by the tears I was fighting.

"What's she doing here?" I asked, my voice shaking. "Why is she wearing your shirt? And... you just called her babe?"

Nathan sighed like I was being difficult.

"Because she fits into them, Michela!" His smile vanished completely. "Jessika and I have a thing going, alright? It's not serious. I promise. You'll always be my best friend, Chela. Come on, don't cry about it."

He reached for my hand again. I jerked away fast.

"Don't touch me," I whispered, turning my back to him. My shoulders trembled. Jemy's words from the library rang in my head, she had been right all along.

I had known it somewhere deep down, but seeing Jessika in his apartment, hearing him call her babe while he stood there half-naked and still hard from her... it made everything real and ugly.

"You don't have to go," Nathan called after me, his voice light like he was doing me a favor. "Jess made food. It's a lot... I know you eat for two... You could join us, y'know."

His words landed like punches. I kept walking, legs feeling heavier with every step. The package bounced against my side. I could still hear him chuckling behind me before the door clicked shut.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I reached the sidewalk. The cab I had taken earlier was long gone. I started walking anyway, the afternoon sun beating down on me

My jeans felt too tight, my tied-up shirt suddenly embarrassing instead of cute. Every mean nickname he had ever called me played on repeat... Fat-suh, beanbag, sack of potatoes, marshmallow. He said them with that grin like they were funny pet names, but they cut deeper each time, especially coming from him.

I thought about the four years I had waited for him to see me as more than the chubby girl next door. All the secret kisses, all the times I laughed at his jokes even when they hurt, all the nights I lay in bed imagining him choosing me over the skinny girls who threw themselves at him.

And today, on his birthday, I showed up with a gift and a love note while he was busy with Jessika.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it, probably Jemy checking in and I wasn't ready to tell her how embarrassed I was.

They were all jerks! Nathan was a mean boy who never deserved the attention I gave him... Jemy's words echoed in my ears.

"You deserve men, not boys." Was she right? I had seen how my stepdad looked at me. I hated to admit that I felt his stares much more than I should.

And yesterday evening when he handed me the bookshop keys after locking the doors, the subtle ways his hairy hand brushed mine, my breath had hitched at that point, and I saw his eyes dull, like he felt the spark too, but they had disappeared almost immediately.

No! No way, Chela! Don't let whatever Jemy thought rub off on you. But could I deny the truth?

The truth that chasing after Nathan hadn't been the same since I started noticing my stepfather a year ago. I had believed maybe dating a hot boy like Nathan would wipe the filthy thoughts off my straying mind.

If it were two years ago, I would have stupidly joined Nathan and Jessika while I watched and allowed them to taunt me with their mean words. But today was different, I had chosen to walk away from Nathan, to stop giving him the attention he threw away.

I had no idea how long I had walked, but by the time I looked up, I was before the white building I called home. Skye, our golden retriever, booed and burst through the front door, wagging her tail, like she could sense my heavy heart.

I crouched before her as she barked small, leaping all over me. Then I looked up, the sound of sawing against wood reached me.

My stepfather stood there, his hard muscles flexing as he moved the saw up and down, his thick body covered in nothing but a light apron across his chest, and hanging on his neck. Sweat trickling down the hard ridges of his chest.

He spun once, his lips parting in that soft smile. Oh, gosh! The temptation I had to fight daily. The one I was hoping dating Nathan would erase.

"Hi, daddy's girl. You're back early." He paused to look at me.

MICHELA;

Miles paused from sawing the wood in the front yard right beside the widely opened doors of the bookstore, his voice warm and deep as always.

That sexy deep voice of his that I always thought about before bed, especially after hearing him speak to someone on the phone from across the hallway.

My eyes ran over him slowly. His messy dark chestnut hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead. The thin white apron he wore clung to his broad chest, and I could clearly see the outline of his hard nipples pressing against the fabric.

Sweat trickled down his thick neck and over his huge biceps, making his skin glisten under the afternoon sun.

My mouth went dry. Skye wiggled her tail happily beside me, snapping me back from my imagination. I blinked fast. He was my late Mom's man, my guardian, and should definitely be off-limits.

If only he knew what those two words did to me every single time... daddy's girl. He had first called me that when I turned seventeen. And that day, they sent heat rushing between my legs and made my heart race.

If only he knew how hard I had tried to make Nathan want me, to put out this fire burning inside me for months, and how completely I had failed.

"Yes... Yes, I had no classes left," I stuttered, my voice coming out shaky. I forced my legs to move and walked quickly toward the house, avoiding his eyes. I wasn't sure what his lingering gaze meant, but it felt heavy on my skin, like he could see right through me.

Skye didn't follow me inside. She stayed out there with Miles, wagging her tail and looking up at him like he was the best person in the world. That left me alone with my racing thoughts as I pushed the front door open and stepped into the cool, quiet house.

Jemy's words from the library kept echoing in my head: A man that would appreciate your body and how beautiful you are.

Was I really beautiful? If I was, why didn't Nathan want me? All those nights I stayed late at his apartment, hoping he would finally touch me, kiss me properly, or even look at me with real desire... Why didn't he?

Maybe Jemy was wrong. Maybe I wasn't beautiful at all. Who would ever call a girl my size beautiful? Girls like Jessika were the ones guys wanted... long, slender legs, flat stomachs, perfect little bodies.

And Jemy too, one of the reasons I had not allowed her to visit me at home... She had a thing for older men, and she wasn't as big as I was and I couldn't stand the thought of my stepfather wanting her, and not me. Everyone was slim and slender, except for me, my chest tightened.

I walked straight to my bedroom, heart still hurting from everything that happened at Nathan's place. The moment I closed the door behind me... or at least I thought I did... I stood in front of my full-length mirror. I stared at myself like I was seeing my body for the first time, like it wasn't the torture I was subjected to.

I had tried it all: herbal tea, skipping meals, and cutting out carbs. At this point, I had concluded that taking water made me gain weight too.

I pulled off my T-shirt in one quick motion and dropped it on the floor. My white lace bra looked tight, pushing my heavy breasts together and making them spill over the cups.

My nipples were hard from seeing Miles, dark, and poking angrily against the thin lace. I moved closer to the mirror, studying them. They were big. Really big.

Nathan had never seemed to like them. He never touched them, never stared, never told me they were sexy.

My hands moved lower. I unbuttoned my tight jeans and shoved them down my wide hips, kicking them onto the bed, just where I had dumped my backpack.

Now I stood there in nothing but my lace bra and a tiny pair of panties that had wedged themselves between my full ass cheeks. I turned side to side in the mirror, trying so hard to love what I saw, to buy Jemy's words.

I ran my hands over my soft belly, the deep curve of my waist, the thick thighs that rubbed together when I walked. My navel was a perfect little button in the middle of it all.

"I really look like a beanbag," I muttered angrily under my breath. "That's the ugly name she called me."

The words tasted bitter, sounded cruel but they described me perfectly. Tears pricked at my eyes again as I remembered Jessika's smirk and Nathan's casual cruelty.

I sucked in my stomach, then let it go, watching how my body moved naturally. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't see what Miles sometimes seemed to see when he looked at me.

My skin felt hot, the air in the room felt thicker. I cupped my heavy breasts in both hands, lifting them slightly, feeling their weight.

My thumbs brushed over my hard nipples through the lace and a small shiver ran through me. A soft, unintentional sound escaped my lips. I imagined different hands on me... bigger, stronger, more careful hands. Hands that wouldn't mock me. Hands that would worship.

I turned again, looking at the way my ass filled out my panties, round and soft. I ran my palms over my hips, squeezing the flesh there gently. Heat was building low in my belly, my breathing had grown a little faster.

For a moment, I let myself wonder what it would feel like if Miles walked in right now and saw me like this. What would his eyes do? Would he look away? Or would that deep voice of his say something that made me melt?

I shook my head, trying to clear the dangerous thought, but my body didn't listen. My nipples stayed tight and sensitive. A damp warmth had started between my thighs. I stood there, almost naked, touching my own curves, caught between shame and a strange, growing need.

"No, Kitten," the deep voice reached me from the door. Only then did I realise, I hadn't shut the door.