#runswithscissors fic

Written for @mindspikebhm and posted with permission.

So far, Spike’s Post-Pandemic Feedee World Tour had been a success, but even more fattening than he expected.

The European leg had just concluded, and the American leg was about to begin, to be followed by a few stops in Canada to wrap up. The idea had come to him at the end of quarantine. He had so many followers, all desperate to see him. Why not spend a week or two with his most ardent supporters in person? At the same time, he could be scouting out places to live and searching for the feeder of his dreams to settle down with permanently.

He'd started this journey already heavier than he'd ever been in his life, thanks to what he thought of as a final winter of training, spent stuffing himself on fast food, donuts, cheesecake, gainer shakes, takeout and more, as well as the most fattening foods he could make himself – anything so long as it would make him bigger. And it had. Boy, had it ever! 60 pounds in just three short months. It had made packing for the trip easy – he only had three shirts that fit him without his belly hanging out of the bottom, and the only pants left were a single pair of baggy, harem pants.

He started close to home, although not as close as he would have liked. He'd discovered during the pandemic that Germany had a complete lack of eligible female feeders. His first stop was in France, with a slim, sophisticated woman named Lina. Lina had a taste for fine clothing and finer dining. So before he left he was well-clad in button-down shirts, tailored pants - and an extra layer of fat.

His next visit was to Cora, in Greece. Cora was as big as Lina was small. A true BBW, she was all delicious rolls and curves, with a belly to rival his own. Cora cooked wonderful Greek feasts - and her average serving size was “big enough for an army”. She insisted that he out-eat her every night, and boy could she eat!

From there it was on to Sweden to meet Agda and Ines, partners who were sharing their time with him. Both were blond; one tall and athletic, the other short and chubby. They used their numerical advantage to wicked effect. One or the other of them was constantly feeding him. They took it in turns, so while they got a rest from the action, he never did, and they were both so eager that he could hardly eat enough to satisfy them both. The food just never. stopped. coming. Finally, by the end of the week, his stomach had stretched enough that he could put on what both considered an excellent showing. It took both of them to help him to his feet and maneuver him the 20 short feet to the bed that night.

His last stop was Ireland, where he met Molly, a petite redhead with freckles, a mass of unruly orange curls, and a wicked sense of humor. She knew every pub in town, and they knew her. Wherever they went, as soon as the bartenders or servers saw her, they knew to bring out a double-portion of whatever she ordered. And she always ordered multiple dishes. Because what’s bangers & mash or shepherd’s pie without Guiness stew? Stew’s basically an appetizer, anyway. And the beer! They drank all day and all night. Rich, dark Guiness. Light, crisp ciders. He felt like he staggered his way through the days, and it was hard to say whether it was due to the stuffing or the drunkenness. On the last day, his beer-bloated belly popped a button on his new dress shirt, right in the middle of the pub. The bartender looked up, winked, and smiled knowingly. Oh yeah - he was definitely not her first guest here.

When she dropped him off at the airport she handed him a bag with a knowing smile. It contained clothing - several 5x shirts, a hoodie and a couple of pairs of loose pants. Not as stylish as Lina’s offerings, but infinitely more comfortable for a panting fatty lumbering his way from stuffing to stuffing. This was definitely not her first rodeo. He had changed, with much difficulty, in the airport bathroom.

As Spike made his way up the gangway and onto the plane, he huffed and panted at the increasingly-unfamiliar exertion. He was beginning to have a few niggling doubts about this tour. Could he really keep up this pace? He felt like he could barely walk, and he’d already outgrown his first set of new clothes. And the European tour was the short leg of the trip. What would happen when he got to the US? He did his best to put it out of his mind as he found his seat. This ticket was sponsored by a benefactor who’d chosen his seat - two of them actually, both in first class. As he stowed his bag and collapsed gratefully into them, a flight attendant hastened up and offered him a drink, which he accepted, and a platter of cheese, crackers, cookies and assorted finger foods. The absolute limit of what the two folded-down tray tables would hold. She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder and said “Welcome aboard, Spike, we have a special experience planned for you at the request of your patron.” Spike gulped, not sure what that meant, but the platter in front of him gave him a few ideas.

To be continued…