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I don't think so, if there's plenty of satisfaction in overeating and gaining, then why stop? I for certain can never get enough of you, your size and appetite are intoxicating, I would adore to see new stretch marks and more pounds on your beautiful self, I definitely cherish the feeding sessions and seeing you glut out in every possible meal.

It would be intoxicating, wouldn't it? Really living the life of hedonism and pleasure, sharing this little piece of life that you usually keep to yourself with someone who's just as eager as you for this lifestyle.

You're insatiable. You've been stuffing yourself for hours, I can practically see the outline of the last meal you shoved into that hyperextended gut.

*I need it. Give it to me.*

You just keep eating. You won't stop, you've hardly even managed to stop chewing between bites long enough to breathe.

*Oh God, I'm so turned on I'm fucking aching*

You're such a fucking glutton, a greedy, selfish hog.

*Can't you see I've waited long enough, you worthless thing? Do you need the chair to snap beneath you to pull your attention from the table long enough to see how badly I fucking NEED IT!?*

God, damn it! That's enough! Look at me, you addicted slut!

*My inner fucking monologue has gone on long enough.*

Now, you listen to me you useless pile of lard. Clearly, the only fucking thing that holds your attention anymore is what you can put in your mouth, so I'm going to need you to listen carefully.

You. Are. Going. To. Eat. Me.

Do you understand?

Don't give me that stupid, fucking shocked expression, you knew this was coming. Did you not enjoy the spread I laid for you? Hours.. Days... Weeks... of food to whet your appetite and stretch your stomach.

Now it's time for you to do something for me.

Oh don't be scared, it's no different than using that pretty little mouth like you were a few minutes ago.

I can see you drooling. Don't lie. I know you're excited. Look at that, you just licked your lips...

While she keeps working on making her muscles more toned, I cant help but keep blowing up. New pants, New shirts and still everything is so tight and struggles to close already again. She makes me so greedy for more with her love🤤❤️

She didn't know how to respond. It flustered her immediately. Yes, she had just been there yesterday, but she didn't expect anyone to notice.

But he did notice, and what's worse, is he let her know he noticed. She could feel her face getting red and she could feel his condescending eyes on her. Was two days in a row really that bad? But it wasn't just the two days in a row. She had been coming here multiple times a week for since she moved there. It was her favorite and it was so close to her house - right on her way home from work, even - and he was the one at the window a good chunk of those times. She recognized him. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, and a long nose. Very skinny for someone working here. And if she recognized him, it made sense that he would recognize her. Recognize her as the new regular, that is. Another hog addicted to the slop. It was humiliating to be known like that, and she was incredibly turned on by it. Just this simple comment - an acknowledgement - and she was jelly in her seat.

The rest of the encounter was a rushed blur, yet excrutiatining long. She paid in silence, got handed her bag, "Thank you", "Enjoy", "You too", and then she sped home to consume and cum to her own humiliation.

There was an extra order of fries in her bag.

. . .

It took her two whole days to return, but she didn't stop thinking about him for a moment the entire time. She was spacey at work, horny at home, yet unable to work up the nerve to face her humiliation again. Until she did.

The line for the drive-thru wasn't terribly long, but it was moving slower than it ever had. Her heart was racing from the time she spotted the sign to the moment she crept up to the window. When she finally made it to the front, she could have sworn it had ceased to beat completely.

But it wasn't him. It was one of the multitude of greasy teenagers. She was relieved. She was abject. She solemnly ate her meal in the parking lot, but at the bottom of the bag there was an apple pie she did not order.

. . .

She hadn't let herself expect to see him the next time, but there he was. Her heart was back to racing - racing a scary amount for a girl her size - and she was desperate for him to say anything at all. Silently, internally begging him to recognize her. To make any sort of comment. An acknowledgment of her return for more greasy, fattening food.

But he treated her like the average customer - like a stranger. No hint at recognition or the judgment she craved. Just another person allowing themself the indulgence of a fast food meal. She wanted to be the known regular. The one they snicker about after she's gone. She needed it. That is why she was there. That is why she kept coming back.

But then as he reached out the window to pass her the bag. He dangles it out, "Quite the order. Hungry today, are we?" Her pudgy fingers snatched it into the recess of her car, and she was gone.

It was perfect.

Eat, cum, and now an extra fry with an apple pie at the bottom of the bag.

. . .

She was back the next day. Just shy of 24hr since her last lap through. She needed him to be there, and she thanked the lord that he was as her palms got sweaty and her heart began to race almost painfully in her chest.

"Have you been enjoying the treats?"

He was acknowledging her again. This time is was personal. Directed at her. A question. About a reality between the two of them. The idea that he had been the one slipping her the excess calories - that it wasn't just a bizarre mistake - had fueled every one of her orgasms for the last 4 days, but now she was back and he was basically confirming the delusion.

"I . . . umm, but why?" She couldn't look at him. Her eyes were darting around to everything surrounding his face, only ever daring to cross the deep blue gaze of his eyes for less than an instant.

"Well, you're a regular here and you looked like someone who would enjoy an extra treat." As he spoke, even though she was still unable to meet his gaze, she noticed his eyes slide down her body, and she became accutely aware of how heavily her hungry belly was resting on her lap and how tight the seatbelt felt across it at that particular moment.

She was frozen and her face was burning, but after a polite pause to see if she was going to work up a response, he continued unfazed, "Would you like one this time, as well? . . . I think you do."

She could only sputter out the same nonsense she had responded to his first question with, "I . . . umm, but why?" Her brain was out of service, seemingly working on nothing but muscle memory, which itself only seemed to extend back to the previous 30 seconds of eternity.

"Your total is $19.51", and he was back to being just another employee. "Have a nice day."

No pies in the bag this time, but there was a phone number.

. . .

The tiny slip sat centrally on the coffee table the whole time, but she couldn't bring herself to call. She couldn't even bring herself to save the number in her phone, so she kept it centered on her coffee table, taking great pains not to disturb it, lest it get swept off the table, never to be seen again.

She wanted to call so badly. To see what would happen. But she couldn't. She was afraid of flying too close to the sun. She wanted to be called out for the weight she'd gained this year, for her growing fast food addiction, for the way she ate, for what she ate, for the way her pants dug into her expanding and softening flesh, for being such a pig. She needed someone to watch her degradation and call her out for it. To both encourage it, enable it, and chastise her for it. She didn't know if he would do that for her, if he would be her witness, her enabler, her harshest critic, but the thought that he might be was terrifying. What if it was everything she ever wanted?

And that's exactly what the number on the coffee table represented. Because, what if she actually got what she wanted? Would it ruin her forever? With an enabler, would she ever be able to stop?

So that's why she didn't call. The reality of the fantasy was too horrifying. Too enticing.

She went through the drive-thru every day for a week. She was afraid of diving in fully, but increasingly desperate for another quick hit. If they could just continue the game, that would be perfect. Diving in completely was too scary, but the little comments were at least enough to cum to. Just please, one more hit.

Each lap through made her even more desperate, but he wasn't there. He never was. And there were no pies in the bottom of her bag.

. . .

". . ."

". . ."

". . ."

"Hello?"

". . . um"

"Hello?"

"Uhhh, this is the girl from the - uhhh - drive-thru?" How was she supposed to describe herself? She hadn't even thought that far. She didn't know his name and he probably didn't know hers.

She had finally broken down in a fit of unbearable horny desperation. Nothing was working. Feedist porn, enornmous and increasing quantities of food, degrading comments from strangers online, her vibrator. No matter how many times she came, it just couldn't be supressed. So now, lightheaded and delerious, she was finally calling him, but the awkward start had her reeling back to reality and regretting every decision she had ever made.

"Uhhh . . . Oh shit! Oh my god! It's you! I thought you would never call! I thought I fucked up or, uh, like, I don't even know, just like what if I was wrong about . . ." Now he was sounding flustered. She could hear him catch his breath, exhale, and return to his usual cool, even-keeled character. The crack in the persona eased her anxiety a bit.

"I'm so happy you actually called."

"Hehe . . . yeah sorry for the delay. I was - uh hehe - a little nervous . . ."

"Oh my gosh, no worries! Are you hungry?"

"Ha. Uhhh, well . . ."

"Oh, c'mon. I know you are. You seem like the type who always is."

'Oh shit' she thought.

"Why don't you come by and I'll hook you up with something. It's also my break soon, so we can chat while you eat."

"Oh, you don't have to do that-"

"But I want to," he quipped back.

"Well, okay. I'll be over in like 5 minutes."

"Oh, so you live close by. No wonder you're here so often." She could feel a wink though the phone. Even this miniscule teasing - from him, specifically - was getting her wet. "Look, just go through the drive-thru and order your usual. I'll know it's you."

. . .

She was shaking as she came up to the window, and there he was. The fact that this was arranged changed things a little bit. Less exciting in some ways, but much more in others.

It was a normal fast-food-window encounter, except he didn't let her pay and the bag was more full than usual, and when everything was settled he told her to park in her usual spot and start eating. He'd be out in a minute.

'Usual spot?' she thought. He really has been keeping an eye on me. But she was obedient - she was desperate to obey - and went right to her 'usual spot' and started eating right away. There was a lot of food in the bag: a true sampler of the menu: a big greasy mess.

Then, while enraptured in a double cheese burger, there was a tap on her passenger-side window. She jumped in her seat, and there he was. Before she could say anything or signal to come in, he was already opening the door and sitting down.

Her mouth was too full of food to greet him, and even without the food she would have choked on her words. But it didn't matter. He was clearly going to be the one talking today.

"God, you look even bigger when I'm not standing over you." His eyes were crawling all over her. "No - keep eating," he almost snapped when she tried to put down the burger. "I've been so obsessed with watching you come here day after day. Watching that seatbelt tighten as you fill up more and more of that seat. Obviously we get a lot of fatties in here, but you were so clearly different. I'm so glad I was right about you." His words were barely registering, but the look in his eyes as he traced her bulging curves up and down said it all. As he described watching her get fatter seemingly every time he saw her, a hand cautiously but confidently slid under her tight shirt, carressing the upper bulge of her round gut. She was melting and soaking through her tight jeans.

She kept eating like an obedient pig while he continued whispering his monologue about her size, degradation, softness, and beauty. Time dialated. She was in that car having her fat groped for an eternity.

"Now, be a good girl and finish your meal." His hand slipped out of her shirt. 'What?! What's going on?' She thought to herself. She didn't want it to end. She needed more. She needed that forever. "Send me a picture of that bag completely empty when you're finished." And suddenly he was up from the seat and leaning into the car. "You will eat it all for me, won't you?"

He leaned in and gave her the softest peck on her full, fat, greasy cheek and was off. Her mouth was too full to beg. To convince him to stay for just one more minute. To tell him she would do anything in the world for him if he just stayed one more minute.

But all of that was reduced to a muffled whimper through a mouth full of carbs and grease.

A smirk. A wink. And he was back to his shift.

. . .

Seeing the look of terror on your chubby innocent face when I enter your room brings me such joy. And I know you love bringing me joy. That is your job as my plump pet, is it not?

I will restrain you, I will vibe you, I will tease you, forcing you to eat until you can't take it anymore. Only when you're a crying, whimpering mess will I let you have your release. Then after, while you're still panting, you'll thank me for it.