Two for One: Pregnant, Overweight, and Claiming Double Welfare: Well Fed and Insatiable for Food

Blurb:

I’m pregnant, broke, and desperate—and yeah, I’m gaining weight. A lot of it.

Not sorry about it either.

The government isn’t helping, so I found a solution—forge my baby’s paternity and claim double welfare.

There’s just one problem: Sawyer Grady.

“You think I’m gonna let you drag me into this mess? Over my dead body.”

He’s furious, a paycheck-to-paycheck contractor with no patience for my schemes. But here’s the thing—he’s also a feeder. I see the way he looks at me, like he wants me to keep growing, even when we’re at each other’s throats.

We hate each other—or at least we should. But every fight ends with us pressed too close, breathing too hard, wanting too much.

“You’re playing with fire, Jo. And one day, I’m not gonna pull away.”

When the welfare office starts sniffing around, our fake story spirals into real danger. And Sawyer? He does the unthinkable.

He gives me his last dollar, no questions asked.

Now, we’re on the run—me, him, and this baby—and hiding out in his dead best friend’s cabin while the whole damn world watches.

“Stick with me, Jo. I’ll make sure you never go without again.”

Turns out, Sawyer’s not just broke—he’s ready to risk everything, even dipping back into the drug game, to keep us afloat.

And me? I’ve stopped apologizing for the life I want. I’m gaining weight, gaining confidence, and Sawyer’s not just okay with it—he loves it. Every curve, every bite, every inch of me.

We started as enemies, tangled in lies, desperation, and a little feeder/feedee spark I didn’t see coming. But somewhere in the chaos, I found the one person willing to burn the world down for me.

Now the question is: How far will we go to keep it all?

Chapter One

As always, the welfare office smelled like shit.  I mean, metaphorically speaking—it was the smell of desperation and disappointment, the stench of broken dreams and empty promises. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting the room in a sickly green glow. It was like the set of some dystopian sitcom, with rows of chipped Formica desks and crumbling vinyl chairs that stuck to your skin in the summer.

I sat there, eight months pregnant and sweating like a freaking sausage in a hot pan, waiting for my number to be called. The line was endless, a never-ceasing conveyor belt of misery.

A woman in a too-tight leopard print top was loudly arguing with the man behind the desk, her fake nails slamming down onto the formica as she demanded, "I ain't got no proof of residence? Well, what about the fact that I'm sittin' here, ain't that proof enough?"

Next to me, a man in a grimy overcoat was dozing off, his head lolling against the wall. An empty coffee cup with a shredded lid lay at his feet, the remnants of his last meal—or maybe his only meal—pooled at the bottom.

I felt a pang of sympathy, followed by another one that was less sympathetic and more kick-me-in-the-ovaries uncomfortable.

"Number 43, window 5," a harried-looking woman called out, her voice echoing through the room. My heart leaped into my throat as I realized that was me. I shuffled towards the window, my heels sinking slightly into the stained carpet.

The woman behind the desk—Ms. Hartley—had a face like a bulldog, all wrinkles and frown lines. She looked up at me with narrowed eyes, her gaze sliding over my belly and lingering for a moment too long.

"Jolene Parker?"

I nodded, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. "Present and accounted for."

She snorted, tapping her pen against a stack of papers. "You're a real comedian, aren't you?"

I flashed her a grin. "Just trying to lighten the mood, Ms. Hartley. You seem... tense."

She glared at me, clearly unamused. "Your application states that you're unmarried and that the father is Sawyer Grady. Is that correct?"

My stomach did a little flip-flop, but I kept my voice steady.

"Yep. That's the one."

Ms. Hartley leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing. "And you're sure he's the father?"

I nodded, crossing my arms over my belly. "Positive. We had a... moment. You know how it is."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do I?"

I grinned, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck. "Well, you work here, don't you?"

I shot back, my grin fading. "You must know how it is. Late nights, maybe a little too much to drink, and suddenly, you're waking up next to someone you didn't expect."

Ms. Hartley's expression darkened, but she held my gaze. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. But regardless, we need him here to verify your claim."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "He's on his way. Should be here any minute."

As if on cue, the office door swung open, and in walked Sawyer Grady.

He was a vision of rugged good looks and barely-contained fury. His eyes scanned the room, landing on me with a glare that could have set the building on fire.

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. "Well, speak of the devil," I said, a little too breezily.

Sawyer stalked towards us, his boots echoing on the linoleum. "What the hell is this about, Jolene?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Ms. Hartley looked between the two of us, her expression grim.

"Mr. Grady, I assume you know why you're here."

Sawyer nodded, his jaw set. "She's claiming I'm the father of her child."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Well, you are."

He turned to me, his eyes blazing. "We used protection. And it was a one-time thing. I'm not the father."

I scoffed. "Oh, please. Do you have any idea how many times I've heard that line? Newsflash, Sawyer: condoms aren't foolproof.

And neither is your memory, from what I recall."

Sawyer's face darkened, and he took a step closer, towering over me. I could smell his aftershave, a mix of woodsmoke and pine that made my insides twist. "And what exactly do you recall, Jolene?"

I held his gaze, refusing to back down. "I recall a very entertaining evening. And I recall waking up with you the next morning."

Ms. Hartley cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"While we're all caught up in the drama here, let's focus on the task at hand. Mr. Grady, you need to confirm or deny paternity. And Jolene, you need to provide some sort of proof."

I shrugged, playing it cool. "Well, we didn't exactly take a paternity test that night. But I mean, common sense, right? Sawyer's the only guy I've been with in a while."

Sawyer scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "That's not saying much.

And it's still not proof," Sawyer shot back, his voice laced with sarcasm.

I sighed dramatically, rolling my eyes. "Okay, fine. How about this? I've got pictures from that night. Not that I need to show you them, but if it'll help prove my point..."

Sawyer's expression softened slightly, but only for a moment. "You're bluffing. There are no pictures."

I smiled sweetly, pulling out my phone and scrolling through the pictures. I found the one I was looking for—a blurry selfie of Sawyer and me, taken sometime during our drunken escapade.

We leaned against a wall, laughing at something only we understood, his arm casually draped around my shoulders.

I handed my phone over to Ms. Hartley, who peered at the screen before looking back up at Sawyer. "Well, Mr. Grady, this does suggest some level of intimacy."

Sawyer snatched the phone from her hand, examining the photo closely. His expression was unreadable, but the muscle in his jaw twitched. "This proves nothing," he said, handing the phone back to me. "We were just having a good time. It doesn't mean we were together."

I snorted.

You really want to go down that road? Because I've got more pictures, and I'm not afraid to use them."

Sawyer's eyes flashed, and for a moment, I thought he might actually explode. But then, suddenly, he just... deflated. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Fine," he said, his voice gruff. "But only because I don't want to deal with this shit any longer than necessary. I'll sign whatever you need me to sign."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's it?

That's all you've got?" I said, tilting my head to the side. "Just sign something and be done with it?"

Sawyer looked at me, his eyes hard. "Yeah, that's it. I don't want any more drama, and I sure as hell don't want to be dragged into some welfare scam."

Ms. Hartley leaned forward, her eyes scanning a form on her desk. "Well, I must say, I'm impressed, Mr. Grady. Most men would have fought this tooth and nail. Your willingness to cooperate is commendable."

Sawyer just grunted, looking away. "It ain't like I don't have the money.

It's just the principle of the thing," Sawyer muttered, his voice low and gruff.

I shot him a side-eyed glance. "Since when do you care about principle, Grady?"

He turned his gaze back to me, his eyes like chips of ice. "Just because I don't care about much doesn't mean I don't have my limits, Parker."

I smirked, crossing my arms over my belly. "Well, isn't this a heap of fun? Two miserable people forced to interact. It's like a country song written by a serial killer."

Sawyer huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "Just put me on the thing or whatever. I'll finance the goddamn child." Sawyer rumbled, turning his attention back to Ms. Hartley. "Just don't drag me into whatever game she's playing."

Ms. Hartley looked from him to me, her brows furrowed. "Game? Jolene, is there something you haven't told me?" Ms. Hartley asked, her pen poised over the paperwork as she looked up at me with a skeptical expression.

I shrugged, feigning innocence. "Not that I can think of. Why do you ask?"

Sawyer leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. "Because I've got a feeling there's more to this story than you're letting on. You're not exactly the type to just accidentally get knocked up, are you?"

I bristled at his words, feeling a familiar heat rise in my cheeks. "Oh, and you are? You've got Mr. Perfect written all over you, Sawyer.

So why don't you go back to your perfect little life and leave me to mine?"

Sawyer's expression didn't change, but his eyes flashed with something I couldn't quite decipher. "Fine by me. Just remember, I'm not the only one with doubts about your story, Jolene. And I've got a feeling this isn't the last you'll be hearing from me."

I rolled my eyes. " Promises, promises. Just sign the damn paperwork and let's get this over with."

Ms. Hartley looked at Sawyer from me, her expression unreadable. "Very well.

Mr. Grady, if you'd follow me, please." Ms. Hartley gestured towards a small room tucked away in the corner of the office. Sawyer cast one last glance at me, his eyes hard, before following her inside, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the stale aroma of the welfare office.

As I watched them disappear into the room, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in my stomach. Sawyer was right; I was playing a dangerous game, and one wrong move could send everything crashing down around me. But what choice did I have? I was eight months pregnant, broke, and desperate.

The welfare office was my last resort, and Sawyer Grady was the unlucky bastard who had landed on my radar. I didn't care about his feelings or his pride—I needed help, and he was in a position to give it.

As I waited for Sawyer and Ms. Hartley to return, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my messages. Tessa had texted me earlier, asking how the welfare appointment was going. I tapped out a quick response:

**Me:** Welfare office = hell on earth.

Sawyer Grady just showed up, pissed as a wet hen.

I hit send and shoved my phone back into my pocket, glancing around the room to make sure no one was watching. The last thing I needed was for someone to overhear our conversation and start asking questions.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with Tessa's reply:

**Tessa:** Omg, no way! What'd he say? And how'd he find out?

I sighed, leaning back in my chair and trying to look casual.

**Me:** No clue how he found out. But he's being a total dick about it.

Tessa: LOL, shocked. Can't say I'm surprised. He's always been a grump. You bring charm and comedy to the situation?

Me: Trying to. He just called me a scammer. Charming, right?

Tessa: Ugh, screw him. You need the cash, and he's got it. It's not like he's using it for anything.

Me: Yeah, well, he doesn't seem too thrilled about the idea.

Tessa: Surprise, surprise. Fuck 'em. If he doesn't want to help, tell him to go pound sand.

You don't need his approval, Jolene. Just focus on what you need to do for you and the baby.

I nodded to myself, stealing my resolve. Tessa was right. Sawyer Grady owed me nothing, and I owed him even less. But the fact remained that he was the key to unlocking the financial help I desperately needed.

Just then, the door to the small room opened, and Sawyer stepped out, his face a mask of stone. Ms. Hartley followed close behind, her expression somber as she handed me a thick packet of papers.

"Everything's all set, Jolene," she said, her voice low.

"Just make sure you get these forms notarized and file them with the department within the next two weeks."

I took the packet from her, my fingers brushing against hers. "Thanks, Ms. Hartley. I appreciate your help."

She gave me a small smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Just doing my job, honey. You take care of that baby now, you hear?"

I nodded, tucking the papers into my bag. As I turned to leave, Sawyer stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Not so fast, Parker," he growled, his voice low. "Meet me in my truck." Sawyer's voice was barely above a whisper, but the command was clear. He stepped aside, opening the path to the exit, his eyes never leaving mine.

I hesitated, my mind racing. What could he possibly want now? But I knew better than to argue with him in public. I nodded curtly and made my way out of the welfare office, my heart pounding in my chest.

Sawyer's truck was parked in the lot, a beast of a Ford F-250 in a deep, glossy blue. I climbed into the passenger seat, the scent of sawdust and leather enveloping me.

"in the back. I'm taking my half of the payment. You said I knocked you up, right?" He got back out and followed me into the backseat.

I didn't even bother protesting—I was too curious to find out what he wanted.

As Sawyer settled into the seat next to me, I couldn't help but notice how close he was. The cab of his truck wasn't exactly spacious, and his broad shoulders took up more than their fair share of space. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, and I shifted uncomfortably, trying to put some distance between us.

"What's this about, Sawyer?" I asked, my voice tight. "Why the secrecy?"

He shot me a sideways glance, his eyes hard. "Your pussy is mine. You want my money? Fine. But I'm taking something from you too." He leaned in, his voice low and dangerous. "You want a piece of me, Jolene? Then you're gonna give me a piece of you too."

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "What are you talking about?"

"Open your legs."

Sawyer's voice was a low growl, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel the weight of his gaze, like a physical touch, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

"Excuse me?" I stammered, my brain trying to process what he was saying.

"You heard me," he said, his voice firm. "Open your legs. Right now."

I shook my head, my mind racing. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Sawyer, but I'm not interested."

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "This isn't a game, Jolene. This is business. Besides, I'll feed you after. By looking at you, I can tell you're still into that feederism shit."

I perked up.

"You'd feed me? Like, actually feed me?"

Sawyer's expression softened slightly, as if he was surprised by my enthusiasm. "Yeah, I'd feed you. I know you like to eat."

"Yeah. I'm a feedee. I love to eat and I'm proud of it. Get this over with so you can get me some food. I'm feeling birria." I pulled my panties to the side and spread my pussy lips.

I gasped as he flipped me onto my belly and positioned himself behind me. He reached for the bottle of lube beside him and squirted a generous amount onto my pussy, massaging it in. His fingers were rough, and I winced as he spread my cheeks apart, giving him full access to my most intimate area.

Sawyer didn't waste any time. He thrust into me without warning, filling me completely. I cried out at the sudden intrusion, my hands fisting the comforter beneath me. He didn't stop, instead beginning a relentless rhythm, his hips slapping against my ass with each thrust.

I gritted my teeth, trying to adjust to his size. It had been a while since I'd had anything inside me, and Sawyer was... substantial.

"You okay?" he grunted, leaning over me, his breath hot on my ear.

I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "Just... give me a second."

He paused, his hips still pressed against me, and I could feel him throbbing inside me. After a moment, he pulled back, his hands gripping my hips tightly.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice low.

I nodded again, more confident this time.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Just go slow for a second."

Sawyer let out a low groan, but he complied, pulling back and thrusting forward at a slower pace. I felt my body adjusting to him, the initial discomfort giving way to a strange, almost familiar sensation.

"Yeah, like that," I murmured, my eyes closed, focusing on the feeling of him moving inside me.

Sawyer grunted in response, his grip on my hips tightening as he picked up the pace again. I could feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein, and it was... intense. But I liked it.

"Fuck... I'm close... yes already," Sawyer said. "I'm gonna dump inside you." Sawyer's voice was gruff, his breath coming in short bursts. He was close, his body tense with the effort of holding back.

"Go ahead," I panted, my own body on the brink. "Fill me up."

He let out a primal grunt and thrust deep, his body shuddering as he released himself inside me. I could feel the heat of him, the pulsing of his orgasm, and it sent me over the edge. My own climax hit me like a freight train, my body convulsing with the force of it.

Sawyer collapsed onto my back, his body slick with sweat.

"Nah, get your ass up, I'm hungry." I said,  pushing Sawyer off me. He seemed surprised by my abruptness, but I didn't have time for cuddling. I needed food, and I needed it now.

Sawyer rolled onto his back, stretching languidly. "Damn, girl. You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

I smirked, pulling on my panties and jeans. "Just like a fedora, Sawyer. You never know what you'll find underneath."

He chuckled, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

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