Model Prize Hog (The Farm Fic), part III
This is another multi-part feedist fiction story. It is about a female feeder/FFA and a male feedee who bought an old farm in Southeastern Europe where they live and hold feedist retreats, seminars and workshops. The feedee is quite submissive, there are some sketchy manipulation and cnc vibes in this while it’s still romantic and cute, they are living a shared dream. part II
It will contain: feedism, fat admiration, weight gain, conditioning, trough feeding, dominance/submission, force feeding, funnel feeding, cnc, manipulation, voyeurism, fluff, romance
The doorbell rang, you wanted to get up to let me rest for a moment, but we both knew you‘d take too long to get up, put something on and waddle all the way to the front door. "No Sweetie, you stay here and don’t have to get up for food, that’s my job!", I said while pushing you back into your towering position.
This bed had become your feeding throne and you were too fat, or as I would put it, too powerful to get up. You deserved to be served for everything you let me do to you, the things you knew and the ones I hadn’t told you yet. When we got the farm, you were still impatient sometimes, you moved around too much, there was too much to do in the house and you wanted to help and lost 20 lbs. That ended with you being woken up every night for a month for an additional midnight snack. I filmed those night feedings without telling you and hired another handyman to finish the feeding room from the money the videos generated.
I had told him that you were suffering from a rare condition requiring you to be tied to the bed sometimes so you don’t sleepwalk and hurt yourself, that’s what the heavy duty restraints on the bed frame were for. And yes, the bed should be able to carry up to 1000 lbs, I didn’t know how heavy you were gonna get and if I needed another person on the bed for whatever reason. I told the guy you might wanna stay in bed since you were a rather comfy and lazy man and when people visit you, they might want to sit on the bed. He looked at me, raising his eyebrows, but then laughing "Lady, if you do so much of cooking and give your husband cake instead of bread, he maybe cannot leave the bed! But who would complain? I will do the bed so he doesn’t walk away in his sleep from heaven, it would not be very wise decision, hahaha".
I explained the choice for the one-way mirror glass with the room on the other side becoming my workspace and me wanting to check on you when you had to stay home. Strangely, he didn’t wonder much and mirrors in bedroom were something he generally wouldn’t ask questions about, everybody knew what those were for.
The trough was explained as a relic from a relative‘s farm, I told him a moving story about a great-grandma insisting that the family would survive if they made sure the pigs were fed. "So you‘re gonna have pig in here? I guess not, but I understand. You can use it for storing extra blankets, winters around here as cold as summers get hot!", he commented on the tenth odd choice for my room design and I smiled at him - "Thank you, that’s good advice! We gotta get used to the climate and making the sure the pigs are fed means something else depending on where you live and what you need to prepare for."
The midnight feedings got your weight back on track and you were happy that we had so many fans helping us renovate the farm that we didn’t have to finish the feeding room by ourselves now.
Now I walked down the hallway in a thin bath robe and took three bags smelling of fast food grease from a man who cheerfully wished me and my guests a great party. He must’ve thought this was for more than one person.
You hadn’t moved an inch since I left the room and just sat there, looking docile and content, your belly starting to look bloated from the shake, your eyes on the greasy paper bags before you looked at me again and smiled softly. "Oh Baby, you’re so good to me. I‘m so hungry again, I need more, please feed me. That smells delicious!", you said and I got all the burgers and sides out and draped them around you before getting back on your thigh. I had ordered four double burgers, boneless chicken pieces, onion rings, fried cheese balls, and a family portion of fries.
The first two burgers were gone within minutes - you took large bites when I brought the burgers to your mouth and stared at you still entirely enchanted by your appetite. After those two, I rubbed and kissed your belly, made you eat half the fries before feeding you the fried bite-sized sides. "Someone’s lardboy is very hungry today! Love seeing it. That‘s how I want you, approaching proper blob shape. If your legs are getting to weak to carry you, you need to eat more. You‘ll be just where you should be. Open up!", I kept commanding you as breathing and swallowing became visibly harder for you.
I passed you a sugary soda from your nightstand and you finished it almost in one go. The fizzy liquid stretched your stomach further and the pressure made you breath with your mouth open, your look started to become wonderfully blank.
You were trying to take it slow, but that could lead to you not finishing everything. So when you tried to distract me by wrapping your fat arms around me, I grabbed you by your wrists and pushed you back into the mattress. Your arms were pathetically weak. There was just too much flab on them, they were heavy and your shoulders were sore when I made you lift them up more than three times. I held your wrists together above your head with one hand and quickly shoved more fries and fried goods into your mouth. You almost choked, but were used to me getting rough by now and managed. "Did you think you could eat less than I want you to? Don’t be silly. You will finish every bite of this plus dessert."
You couldn’t really speak at this point, so you just obediently nodded your head and opened your mouth for the next round. "That’s my good boy, you know what to do. My perfect pig, still growing fatter for me, can barely waddle anymore but needs me to feed him more. I‘m here for that, here for you, piggy. You’re in good hands", I whispered to you while getting started with the third burger.
You started to sweat from eating, your body was struggling to process everything coming into your already pie- and shake-filled stomach, but you were well-trained and the hunger was pretty permanent, so you pushed through.
That’s when you hit 3000 calories for this session. Your face got even redder when I whispered that in your ear with the last bite of your burger. Your tried rocking around your body to help me reach your dick or just start rubbing it on your own lard inside your fat pad. You grunted helplessly and I had rarely seen anything more attractive. You were perfect.
I liked watching you grab burgers with your fat fingers and your laser focus when you ate, so I always let you eat one burger by yourself and this was an ideal moment. You moved your arms very slowly, but straight to your mouth after I had placed the last big burger in them. You were locked in on eating now, you would be able to go on slowly but surely for a while. You didn’t look at me anymore, just occasionally at the burger, otherwise your eyes were pretty empty and I enjoyed seeing you like this. My perfect little lard addict. Keep eating, Sweetie.
I moved further down, pushed and held up your overhang while you groaned, failed at letting you catch your breath while shoving the burger into your mouth again. I played with your fat pad and shifted it around until I managed to free your dick. I teasingly licked the tip, you moaned with your mouth full and I covered it in spit before taking it into my mouth and started sucking. I felt you trying to move, but there was no chance. I rewarded your lack of mobility with sucking harder, running my tongue around your cock in between. You took the last bites of the burger and I felt you starting to tense up. I was about to get my next fix of fat boy cum. I groped your overhang more firmly while continuing to hold it up, you squealed and gruntingly moaned before pumping your load into my mouth.
After swallowing your sweet cum, I moved up to rest my head on your belly, rub it gently again and share in the moment of you slightly drifting off. I‘d wake you up in a few minutes again to push dessert into your overstuffed body, this half-comatose state was too hot to not take advantage of it. "My perfect prize hog, you did so well, you should always be here, eating and cumming for me like this. I‘m so proud of you. So proud."
