Giving feederism a "try"
It's February.
On Valentine's Day, your new boyfriend admits he has a thing for... Bigger girls. Not just bigger girls, but turning girls into bigger girls. You're surprised, but his shyness and embarrassment over it are cute. You decide to hear him out. He ends up asking if you'll let him feed you. It's weird, and it's not something you're into... But what's the harm in trying it, for him? You accept his offer.
It's March.
Food is a lot more involved in the bedroom than it was before, you're frequently having sex right after eating. Sometimes he asks if he can hand-feed you, when you two are having pizza or snacks. His hand always ends up on your belly when you aren't looking, but his touch is gentle, and you don't mind it. You think you're eating more than usual, but it's hard to be certain - your appetite seems to have grown, maybe because he's making sure you never miss a meal. The after-dinner sex is incredible though... It's so worth a little weirdness.
It's April.
On April Fool's Day, you thought your boyfriend had messed with your clothes, because your panties were feeling super tight and your jeans were struggling to fit over your ass. He swore he hadn't done anything. You realise they're the same clothes as always... There's just more of you to fit into them now. You check the scales. You've put on 8lbs since you started "trying" this. You'll have to start being more careful... Letting him feed you dinner is going to have to be a once-per-week kind of thing, otherwise he's going to keep make you fat.
It's May.
Once per week lasted... For about a week. Then it was twice per week, for another week. Now it's every other night, because every night would just be crazy. You told yourself you wouldn't let this happen, but the way he gets so into it when he's shoving food into your mouth and gently squeezing your over-filled belly... Seeing him so worked up makes you so wet too, and the way he worships your body afterwards is so difficult to turn down. You'll let him keep enjoying himself your now, but you're going to need to join a gym.
It's June.
You're not wearing jeans any more, because every pair you had no longer fits you. After months of being treated to too many take-outs and snack binges, your belly is bigger and softer than it used to be. It bounces a little when you walk now, and your thighs aren't as firm as they used to be either. You notice it the most when you're sitting down, and they take up a lot more seat than they used to. It's okay though, you're just wearing joggers and hoodies instead. Once you get started at the gym, you'll fit back into those jeans again. Your boyfriend loves having more of you to squeeze and grab in the bedroom... Maybe you don't need to go all the way back to your old size, you can leave him a little bit to play with...
It's July.
The weather warmed up, and you couldn't keep walking around in winter clothes any more. Your old shorts are a lost cause, you tore one pair at the seams as you tried to pull them up over your much thicker, much doughier thighs. Your dress still fit, but only barely; they cling to every inch of your skin, and there are far more inches than there used to be. Nothing is left to the imagination, and you think you sometimes see people glancing down at your belly as if you're pregnant. Your boyfriend isn't subtle about how much the tightness of your dresses against your fuller figure drives him wild. His hands are never off of you when you're alone together, there's lots of flesh for him to grope and you don't try to stop him. When he feeds you though, it's starting to get weird... You're not wet because of him any more, you're starting to get wet just from the eating...
It's August.
You and your boyfriend were invited to a pool party with some friends you hadn't seen in a while. The only swimwear you have is a bikini, and it's so tight against your supple curves that when you sit down, the bikini bottoms are completely covered up by your belly, muffin top and thunder thighs. You told your boyfriend that you didn't want to go. He said you didn't have a choice - you were going, he was going to show you off to everyone, and you didn't have a say. Then he grabbed you by your fat ass and told you that you were his pig to play with now. You melted inside. You stammered out an "okay" as you felt your bottoms start to dampen. A lot of people were trying to conceal their gaze, but all eyes were on your stretch marks, cellulite and jiggling rolls as you were in and out of the pool. You let you boyfriend pile your plate high with barbecue food and didn't let a single bite of it go to waste. You came that night as your boyfriend called you a fat cow.
It's September.
You're back in your loose winter clothes, but even those feel tight against your ballooning waistline. You catch your reflection in shop windows as you walk down the street, and it takes a second for you to remember that you're the fat girl you see, trying hard not to show how winded she is from a walking pace. Every now and then you remember that you were going to start at the gym, but you keep making up excuses, like how you don't have any gym clothes, and that the gyms are too far away. In the back of your mind, you imagine your boyfriend having less of you to make jiggle when you ride him, fewer rolls to caress as he feeds you pizza, less of a double-chin for him to tease you for as you fill your ravenous appetite with snacks... And you just can't bring yourself to deprive him of that, because you look being his big girl.
It's October.
You and your owner go to a Halloween party together. He's dressed as the big bad wolf. You're dressed as one of the three little pigs. You have a piggy nose, a curly tail, and an ill-fitting pair of pink shorts with a matching t-shirt. The waistband is so tight against your belly that you don't think there's any room for you to eat as much as you've become used to, but your owner doesn't accept that excuse. When the time comes to order food, he gets you an entire XL pizza, all for you. As you eat the first slice, he jokes to his friends that he hopes you're not eating so much because you're eating your two. They laugh at you as you go red in the face, your panties become so damp and you lose any inhibitions about eating. You're aware that your owner's eyes are adoring the way you scoop up slice after slice and shovel them into your greedy snout, but your only thoughts are about food and how much your owner is going to grope and jiggle your stuffed belly when he fucked you later. As you reach the end of the pizza, your button pops, and your overfed gut spills into your lap and makes your shirt ride up. Everyone gets a good view of your gluttony-fuelled, stretch-marked stomach, and the shame almost makes you orgasm right then and there.
It's November.
You and your boyfriend have a fight. It's over something silly, something that doesn't matter, but you want some time away from him. You buy yourself a new set of gym clothes, at long last, and decide it's finally time to assess the damage. You're 150lbs fatter and jigglier than you were when you first met him. You've gone up so many sizes that you're well into the plus-sized range workout clothes. Without him to drive you everywhere, you become a lot more aware of the fact that your belly bounces from thigh to thigh with every step. Your appetite is out of control, but you think that if you at least work out, you'll stop piling on more pounds until you get that under control. You go to the gym every other day... For a week. It's exhausting, it's unpleasant, it's so hard, and it's so embarrassing. But the embarrassment just means you finish every session by going to the bathrooms and masturbating, though even that's difficult with so much belly and thigh chub in the way. Your resolve wears out. Your boyfriend apologises, and you tell him that he owes you a date at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
It's December.
The leadup to Christmas meant that everywhere you went, you were being offered snacks and treats and delicious desserts, and you never turned any of them down. Your feeder was stuffing you every day, sometimes more than once per day, and making you heavy cream milkshakes to drink in-between stuffings. They were annoyingly tasty, and you frequently had to sheepishly ask him for more. You're such a fat hog now, you're outgrowing clothes so regularly that your owner has decided you should have to keep wearing them regardless. You spill out of every dress and set of loose winter clothes you try to wear, and his hand are always all over the soft, plentiful flesh that pokes out from your outfits. For Christmas, he gets you a collar with "piggy" engraved on it, along with lots of sweet treats and new lingerie for you to outgrow. As a thank-you, you spend the day on all fours for him, eating off of the floor and letting him use you whenever he wants to. He treats you like a brainless animal who's only good for being fed and fucked. You love every second of it and hope he'll do it again.
It's January.
All of your friends talk about new year's resolutions, and a lot of them revolve around losing weight. The idea of letting your master down like that doesn't even cross your mind. You know you've still got so much room left to grow for him. He's only just started funnel-feeding you, and you're getting really good at it. You'll do whatever he wants because your master knows best. Your brain is so warped at this point that you can only get wet by being fed and jiggled and groped. Sex without being full of delicious calories feels like you're missing out on the best part. He only treats you like his girlfriend when you're in public now. At home, he expects you to be naked at all times and crawl around when he tells you to. You eat all of your meals from a trough now while he pounds you from behind and makes every inch of you jiggle with every thrust. Your brain switches off completely every time, too overcome by pleasure to think straight.
It's February.
Another Valentine's Day. You two go to the same restaurant you did the year before. You don't fit into the booth you sat at previously, so you're stuck straddling two chairs with your fat ass instead. Your feeder tells you what a good girl you are and how proud he is of his big, fat piglet. Being praised like that feels so good, and your appetite is stimulated even further by his encouragement. He lets you order almost everything from the menu, and watches proudly as you spend the next two hours shamelessly devouring everything the waitress puts in front of you. By the time he drives you home, you're struggling just to get into the car, your belly is too full to manoeuvre properly. He brings you to the bedroom, and tops you up with weight gain shake fed to you through a funnel. Then he lays you down, and your broken mind fades into ecstasy as you fantasise about your master making you so much bigger, so much jigglier, and giving himself a hungry, horny piggy that he can really be proud of.
