Fae Feeder

She's been spending the past year nesting. The apartment is warm with soft lights and wide cozy furniture, the house plants are thriving and something baking in the oven smells like butter and cinnamon and vanilla. She's been taking it slow while she finishes her degree. Putting so much love into creating a home helps keep her sane through the endless afternoons on the couch with a laptop. Lazy evenings after I get home, both of us tired, eating dinner and cuddling up to watch a show.

Domesticity suits her. The house is her happy place, her own safe little corner of the world. She wears oversized sweatpants or loose dresses. She orders groceries and picks them up at the door. The clothes she used to go out in don't fit any more. She doesn't care, there isn't anywhere to go. She gives herself permission to stay comfortable, she puts another tray of cookies in the oven.

Domesticity suits her. Lazy days full of hearty home-cooked meals turn into months, and her thighs and belly swell up like rising dough. She walks more slowly now, heavy steps from the couch to the kitchen and back again. She orders one chair for cooking and another for the shower. She looks at her body - awkwardly oversized breasts resting on a round belly, a rear like two big pillows, hips filling the love seat - and she appreciates how the home has shaped her. She really looks the archetype: the nurturing mother, the soft home-maker, the content stay-at-home wife. I tell her that I like a little more to love, and she laughs, jokes that if she keeps gaining like this it won't be long until she can't fit out the front door.

Domesticity suits her. By the time she finishes her degree, she's made up her mind about what she wants next - she's ready to get pregnant. We talk through it and decide she should keep staying home, take it easy on her body while we get the house ready for a baby. Hungry and hormonal, she piles on even more weight, embracing her cravings, never far from food. Her breasts seem to double in size, truly enormous now, and they make her struggle to carry things, to see things near her feet, to sit close to tables. I take on more of the chores, I run all the errands, I bring her meals to the couch. Her body is only really good for one thing now - staying cozy in the home, pregnant and cared for. And she likes it. She doesn't want to live a different life, this one feels perfect for her.

When I find a feedee's blog on here and scroll for a while, and realize how devoted you are to growing and growing, with no end in sight. Your interests, career, relationships, all carefully selected to enable a life spent in indulgence, eating and eating while your fitness and mobility fade away.

And when a feedee lives like that, it shows. Some pictures just shock me, your body weighed down under so much doughy fat, belly spilling out over enormous spreading thighs. You don't get that big by accident. The pictures make me imagine how you must be living, to look so helplessly overfed. Especially if you're young - what must have happened to make you gain so much in so few years? Is eating all you do?

So I see these blogs and I imagine your life. I imagine how much you must eat, how much you must struggle, how good it must feel to touch your own sensitive softness, to be touched. But most of all I imagine your obsession with your own gain. Aroused by the weight holding you down every moment of your life. Always desiring to be bigger, to be the biggest you can imagine yourself, needing it, and pushing yourself toward it every day.

I never thought I would see someone so excited to stay in bed all day. But she is happier and more sex-crazy than ever. She's made up her mind that she's not walking another step in her life. And every time she thinks about what that means, she gets so turned on.

When she told me she was ready to become totally dependent, I told her I would support her, no matter what that looked like. She showed me a wheelchair she'd picked out, and said that I'd better stay strong because I'd be helping her in and out of it. She was opting into immobility.

It's not really a surprise. She's been intentionally gaining for years now, and she loves when she gets to be *too fat* for things. And she's always had a fantasy of being spoiled into helplessness, useless for everything but pleasure. This is just the inevitable next step.

Still, I'm in awe of her willpower. Resisting the temptation, convenience, and comfort of a brief walk to the kitchen, or a small standing stretch. The patience it takes to always ask me for help with the littlest, easiest tasks.

She says it requires constant focus to keep her body so sedentary. She can't let herself slip up, give in, flex the muscles she has renounced. She has to keep envisioning the rest of her life, soft and enormous, trapped by her own weighty achievement. And just the thought of it sends a tingling rush of pleasure through her.

And this constant envisioning has made her the most sex-brained person I've seen. If she isn't eating or sleeping, she's begging me to come touch her, or taking matters into her own hands with her vibrator. And her awareness of her own neediness in the face of these cravings - picturing herself so big, helpless, and oversexed - only makes it worse.

She's gained a fair bit of weight since we've been together. And she gets soooo turned on when it gets pointed out. Like we will be in the mirror and I'll jiggle her belly or bring up how much bigger her hips or boobs have gotten, and she will check out her reflection and then she just *needs* sex. She is really needy when it comes to sex, she needs a lot of it.

She was intentionally gaining for a bit and then wanted to slow down, so we aren't doing any stuffings now, but she's kept on gaining slowly. Her body seems to just want to gain more. She likes to sit in bed and just jiggle the new jiggly parts of herself, it's really adorable. And some of our favorite pillow talk is to talk about how big she's going to get eventually, inevitably, because of our relationship.

But oh my gosh I am so lucky to have someone who is as into this as I am?!! She loves being plump, and she gets horny when she gets embarrassed by it, and she likes to look at other feedee's before-and-after photos and imagine herself so much bigger than she is now.

I want to be seen loving and spoiling someone who is acting so shamelessly gluttonous and so helplessly out-of-shape. Make her promise to ask me for a snack whenever she finishes the last one, and she has to eat whatever I give her. Make her claim pathetic levels of unfitness - insist that she can't walk a block to the car, and we should really just circle back and pick her up. I'll back up any "too fat for that" claims with embarrassing stories about the last time she tried.

I don't say it out loud, but you can see the thought plainly on my face. It's been two years since we last saw each other and here you are, waddling into a cafe, about 300lbs bigger than you were when we graduated.

My split-second of shock changes to a big smile, and I stand up from the patio table and run toward you. "Oh my gosh it's so good to see you!"

We hug, and my arms can't reach all the way around your body. You smile but you're breathing heavily, out of breath from the short walk from your car. I offer my arm for support, and steady you while you take swaying steps.

"Is this a good spot?" I ask, motioning with my head in the direction of the table. "Maybe another chair?"

You nod. "Yeah, another chair would be great." I grab a nearby chair and put it next to yours, and hold your hands while you slowly lower your expansive rear onto the pair. You're a little surprised that I know what someone your size needs - usually it's a thing you have to awkwardly set up for yourself. I sip on my coffee while you lean back and catch your breath.

Back in college, you were already the fat friend of our little clique. But you were normal fat - sure you needed to buy plus size clothes, but it never stopped you from dancing all night, or fitting in a single chair. Today - a week after I reached out because I saw your post that you were moving to the same city as me - you are definitely not normal fat. You are *how the hell did this happen to her in two years* fat.

The truth is, you did it to yourself. You've been gaining intentionally, pushing your calorie limit every day, moving as little as possible ever since graduation. Your weight surged and your fitness vanished entirely. Your own body, with its swelling sensitive curves and waning mobility, turned you on like nothing else could.

You're excited to have a friend in this new city, but you're embarrassed to show what you've done to yourself. You look at my face, searching for signs of concern or disgust. Instead, you catch my eyes glancing at your pillow-like arms, your enormous chest - am I checking you out? I meet your gaze and grin.