Female Feeder Blackmails You
The day started just like any of our usual sessions: me rubbing your belly between bites, coaxing you gently but firmly, layering your plate with the foods you’ve grown so addicted to. But halfway through, mouth still full and cheeks flushed from fullness, you mumbled something unexpected. Something serious. “A confession, sweetie? What’s on your mind, huh? Don’t worry, you can talk with your mouth full. I like you that way.” You want this to be your last stuffing. You tell me you don’t want to get any fatter. That you’re leaving the Feederism world behind and starting over. A confession, right in the middle of your feast. I smile and stroke your face, wiping the sauce from your lips.
I tell you I understood. I even promise to make this last one stuffing special, something unforgettable. I lean in close, pressing my chest against your shoulder, whispering softly as I spoon another bite between your lips. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry to hear you’re done. Is it something I did? It’s not about the weight, is it? Because I only ever helped you give in to what you wanted. You’re the one who kept opening up that greedy little mouth every time I fed you, remember? I was just doing my job.” I laughed then, but there was sadness in it. “You’re such a perfect porker. It took me so long to find someone like you. How will I ever find another piggy who is so easy to fatten?”
I keep feeding you, even as your resolve started to waver. “So what’s the plan, huh? Delete my number and join a gym? No more weekly visits? No more weigh-ins?” I pause, you don’t answer. “I just don’t think you’ve got that kind of willpower. Losing weight is so hard. Your body… it takes to gaining like it was meant for this. Some people aren’t built to be skinny, you know. I think your place is right here, in this chair, belly up, soft and round, just the way I like you.” I pat the dome of your stomach affectionately. “You never even hit the goals we set for you.”
There was a pause in you then. I could feel the doubt bubbling beneath your skin—right alongside the fullness. I leaned closer, my lips brushing your ear. “I know it feels hard to stop now, but do you really want to stop?” My hand slides down, grabbing a soft handful of your belly. “Look at all this. Look at all the food. Look how I pamper you. Look at me. You like it, don’t you? You like showing up in tighter clothes, already bloated, ready to impress me. You love how full I make you feel, how important you are to me when you’re ballooning like this. You don’t really want to give that up… do you?”
But I don’t push too hard yet. I let you have your fantasy of control, just for a moment. “Okay,” I say sweetly. “If this really is goodbye, then let me do one last thing for you.” I reach into the drawer and pull out the soft restraints you know too well. “Let’s make this final session… unforgettable. You remember our safe word, right?” I winked. “Mmm, I think this calls for some pizza. But wait…actually, hand me your phone first.” You hesitated, but you hand it over, just like I know you would. Good boy.
“Perfect,” I say, positioning it on the stand, tapping ‘record.’ “There. A little souvenir for you when you’re sweating it out in the gym. Something to remember me by.”
What follows is a blur of calories and pleasure—pizza, ice cream, pastries, cream poured directly onto your tongue. Your belly stretched beautifully, groaning under the pressure. And afterward, as you sit there, dazed and sluggish, I rub the tight swell of your gut and whisper, “You poor thing. We really went for it, didn’t we? I think that’s the most you’ve eaten in one sitting.” I smirk, watching your face flush as I kept stroking your roundness. “I bet I know why. You were trying to maximize on the experience, weren’t you? One last high before you go clean. Let me be honest though, this doesn’t make me happy. So… I’m going to give you one more chance. Take it all back now and the punishment won’t be so bad. Tell me you’ll stay my feedee.”
You don’t answer. That is all I needed.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I step toward the phone. “But you forced my hand.” My voice turns low. “You see, I didn’t set up the recording just for you. I set it up for me. What we just captured? It’s not just any video, it’s you, with your cheeks stuffed full of greasy food, tied down and begging for more. And it’s on your phone. Which has your Facebook account. Your real name. Your real friends.” I raised an eyebrow. “What do you think they’d say if they saw this? ‘No wonder he’s put on so much weight lately.’ ‘Guess we know what he’s been doing with his weekends.’ You don’t want that, do you?”
I pick the phone off the stand and smile at you with genuine affection. “I know you think you want to leave all this behind. I even believe that you believe it. But you won’t. You’ll try, maybe. But you’ll fail. Because deep down… this is who you are. And honestly? I’m not letting my best piggy go. I’d be a fool to.”
I step closer again, placing a hand on your distended belly and giving it a slow, adoring rub. “I’m the best feeder you’ll ever have. There are a dozen other little piggies begging to take your place, but I don’t want them. I want you. So here’s how it’s going to go: either you submit to me, stay my growing little porker, promise to eat and swell and be mine… or I show everyone what you really are.” I pause, watching your trembling breath.
“It’s your choice,” I whisper. “But either way… I get what I want...”
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