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“I want to feed you,” said the voice over the phone.

Diana made a face before replying in the sensual tone she always used for work, “What do you want to feed me?” She was hoping for a nice, long list in response to that question. She hadn’t been getting many calls this week, so the longer she could keep this client on the line, the better.

He obliged, rattling off different sweets and junk foods for long enough that she was almost in a good mood by the end.

“Wow, all that for skinny lil me?” she cooed. She took a guess as to where he’d want her to take things next: “All that junk is gonna make me so chubby.” She added a pout to her voice, faux resistance to keep him interested.

He responded enthusiastically, so she kept playing out the fantasy: him “feeding” her each item, accompanied by fake chewing, swallowing, and smacking of her lips. She even licked her fingers at one point, and the sound of her fingers popping out of her mouth really set him off. She could hear him breathing hard, trying to hold it together for as long as he could.

“Look what you did to me,” she whined into her headset. “All your food made me so fat.”

He didn’t last much longer after that. She was surprised he didn’t hang up right away. He even told her thank you. More money in the bank for me, she thought with a smile.

That was his first call, but he turned into a regular after that. Even better, it seemed like he’d spread the word around about her, and she started getting calls from other people with a feeding kink who wanted to hear a woman purr into their ear about how full and fat they were making her.

They were all easy enough at first. Happy not to be judged, to have someone tailoring a fantasy just for them in real time. But there was one caller who started driving her up the wall.

A few minutes into their second call, he told her, “Stop. I can tell you’re not even eating anything. It sounds so fake.”

She broke character for once and laughed. “It’s a fantasy. Isn’t that kind of the point?”

The man on the phone sighed wearily, clearly annoyed. “It’s just hard to get into it with all the fake chewing and shit. What, you don’t have any chips you can eat?”

That pissed her off. She did a lot to make things seem authentic, and she thought she’d gotten better at it. But she didn’t have chips; she didn’t have much of anything to eat at home, really. She liked to spend her money on clothes and shoes and time at the salon. Food was low on her list of priorities, especially since she had to maintain her figure for her other revenue streams. Her little contingent of well-paying callers aside, most people only wanted to see her body because she was thin. No one would be banging down her door to pay for photos or videos if she put on weight. She knew some girls specialized in that kind of thing, but she was much happier to have a broader audience and more chances to make her rent every month. “I don’t, actually. You saw my pics before you called, right? I’m not some fatty on the phone with you.”

“Eat celery sticks, then. Something. Because your acting is terrible.”

“Fuck off, dude.” She ended the call, making a mental note to block him so he couldn’t call her again.

...which she promptly forgot to do after a couple hours of calls, and didn’t think about again until the same caller messaged her the next week.

Hey, I wanted to apologize for being rude last week. I was frustrated and let my temper get the best of me. He went on for a bit, then told her he was willing to pay triple her usual rate if she’d let him call again.

At that price, and after such a nice apology, she was willing to go out and get a bag of chips just for him. Hell, that was worth picking up a couple of little snack cakes, too. She figured she could make those and a family-sized bag of chips last a while for this client, if he ended up calling back. If he didn’t, it was only a few bucks. She’d feel no qualms about throwing away whatever was left. Maybe she wouldn’t even need them, anyway, if he didn’t get his panties in a twist about her “terrible acting” again.

The call went smoothly to start with. They just chatted at first. He seemed pretty sheepish, and clearly felt bad for pissing her off. She joked that if arguing was what got him off, he just had to let her know beforehand. That seemed to warm him up again. Pretty soon, he was leading into his fantasy—that she was his gamer girlfriend who couldn’t help but mindlessly eat all the junk he brought her. And it went okay, and he seemed into it—sort of. She could tell something wasn’t working. “I’m sorry,” he said, stopping everything. “It’s just—the fake eating, it really doesn’t do it for me. I think I’ll have to try someone else.”

Knowing how much he was paying—how much more he’d probably be willing to pay her in the future—she jumped in right away. “Well… maybe we could work something out.” She had the bag of chips near to hand and picked it up, and she heard a little gasp from him as he registered the sound of the crinkling. “But if I’m going to make things more real, I’m gonna need a fat tip from you.”

She hadn’t even finished the sentence by the time he sent her the cash—more than she would’ve even asked for. “Is that enough?” he asked, voice near-frantic. “I can send more—”

“Shhh, slow your roll, hon. I thought you were into feeding, not findom.” She giggled. Best not to milk him dry on a first call. “What you sent is plenty. Just listen.” She ripped the bag open and shook it so he could hear piles of salty, cheese-dusted Doritos rattling around. “I’m so glad to have such a helpful boyfriend to bring me treats.” She pulled one of the chips out and bit into it, exaggerating her chewing. “Mmm, these are so good! I might just eat the whole bag,” she teased.

“Th-there’s more where that came from. But I’ll let you get back to your game.”

She ate a second chip, really going all in on her chewing noises and smacking her lips. She heard him whisper “fuck, that crunch is good” just before she started licking Dorito dust off her fingertips. “Ugh! I already finished the whole bag. Baaaabe—! Could you bring me more snackies? I can’t win without gamer fuel.” Again the pout crept into her voice.

He promised her the moon over the phone. She saw that he’d sent her another tip—a hefty tribute for her to playact his spoiled girlfriend. So she grabbed one of the packs of Ho-Hos she’d bought just for this, letting the plastic crinkle for him. “Ho-Hos! You know me so well.” He groaned into his phone and she felt delighted. It was amazing how easy this was. She ripped open the package and ate the first snack cake loudly, letting it puff out her cheeks as she chewed, then swallowed, making sure it went down audibly. She got a little lost in her performance—she’d forgotten how tasty Ho-Hos were, once you got past all the chemicals and how fattening they were. Pretty soon, she’d crammed the second one into her mouth, and she could hear how much her caller was enjoying it.

She swallowed it a little awkwardly—her throat had gone a little dry. She grabbed a can of sparkling water from nearby and took a swig, which resulted in an unexpected belch moments later. That completely undid him. The call ended shortly after that, and Diana felt plenty satisfied with herself. Eating a couple chips and a pack of snack cakes in exchange for a quarter of her monthly rent was a damn good exchange.

She absently ate another couple chips before she moved on to other work—including updating her payment tiers to include the service she’d just provided, knowing that if one of her feeder clients loved it, there were bound to be others.

***

Months later, Diana had gotten pretty comfortable eating on the phone. Honestly, it made her job a whole lot easier. Eating and drinking noises were hard to imitate without having anything in your mouth. Callers were more than happy to pay extra to listen to her chow down.

Tragically, her bank account wasn’t the only thing swelling. She was jumping up and down, trying to get into her favorite pair of jeans so she could go on a quick grocery run and restock the snacks she now called “work supplies.” She’d managed to pull them up her thighs, but couldn’t manage to get them over her butt. She wasn’t stupid—clearly she’d put on a few. Really need to be more careful, she chided herself. She stopped her jumping and faced the mirror, angling herself to check the damage. She didn’t look bad but she was certainly looking thicker. Her tummy had a little pooch to it she’d never had before. A small part of her thought it made her belly button piercing look cuter, but mostly she hoped it wouldn’t get any worse.

Still… she might as well take advantage of this moment. More than one caller had mentioned wanting to actually see pictures of her “thicc,” or even just bloated. A couple even had fantasies about her not just outgrowing clothes, but specifically struggling with tight jeans. It took her a bit to set up a couple cameras, but she took some decent footage of herself wiggling and jiggling around the room. She even managed to get the jeans pulled up and get some shots of herself lying back on the bed trying to do up the front button.

She was winded by the end of it and peeled them off gleefully before she looked over the footage. Plenty to work with when she had time to edit it later.

She did still need to hit the grocery store, though. All the exercise had left her hungry. She slipped on a pair of yoga pants instead and headed out, trying to think about healthy foods she could get that would hopefully slim her down again.

***

Six months since she’d first started eating on calls, she considered that maybe she’d made a wrong turn. She was on her fifth feeder call of the day. This one’s fantasies involved catching a greedy girl sneaking a thick slice of cherry pie, and punishing her for it by making her eat the whole thing.

In the beginning, Diana had been able to stretch out eating just a little bit of food for a long enough period that it only seemed like she was stuffing herself to the gills. But here she was, halfway through eating a cherry pie (not even counting all the other crap she’d packed her gut with earlier in the day). She’d made herself cry earlier in the call when he “caught” her, but now her sniffles were half-real, her belly aching more and more with every heavy gulp. “P-please, sir, I promise I won’t steal ever again. Honest!” Chew. Chew. Gulp. A stifled, stomach-churning belch. “I’m so full, I can’t eat anymore.”

He ordered her to keep going, and she did. But not even because of him. She just couldn’t help it. These days, she felt like she was constantly chasing a sugar high. Even if the call ended before she finished the pie, she knew she’d probably gobble up the rest of it anyway.

She got surprised by a belch and moaned a little at the relief it gave her. Her caller clearly appreciated it, taking lots of time to scold her for being unladylike. She rubbed at her belly, realizing she’d gotten pretty huge since this all started. A couple months in she’d been a little surprised by an additional ten pounds. Now it was more like sixty, and she kept gaining faster. But when she spent her work days gorging, and then ate more when she finished to reward herself, it wasn’t really shocking.

It was a self-perpetuating cycle. She kept making videos about reaching new weight milestones or roleplaying ripping out of her clothes or huffing and puffing through a fitness routine. She’d make some cash off the videos, and inevitably a few people who bought her clips would figure out they could call her. Most of those new clients wanted to hear her gnawing her way through burgers and barbecue or crunching into bag after bag of crunchy snacks. And then she’d get even fatter, and have to film more to make it worth it…

She could’ve found a way to turn it on its head. She knew there was a market for weight loss porn the same way there was for weight gain porn. People loved to watch a girl sweaty and struggling. But, being realistic, she just wasn’t about that life. Diana had been a hedonist even before she’d added food into the mix. She did the work she did because she loved pleasure of all kinds, and exercise gave her no such enjoyment.

She fiddled a little with her belly button piercing, which was rapidly getting outshone by her increasingly flabby gut. She wondered how long she would be able to keep it in if she kept pigging out like this—and then scraped the bottom of the pie tin. She’d finished the whole thing in one sitting, and felt it weighing her down like a gooey, fattening stone. She made sure her mic picked up the scraping sound. “See? I finished everything. Please don’t make me eat anymore.”

That did it for him, and she felt relieved when she finally took off her headset and slouched to her bed, lying belly-up. She gave it an experimental nudge and actually heard it slosh. It really would be a good idea to slow down. She licked the last bits of cherry pie crumbs and filling from her lips.

Well. If she had to get fat, at least she was making good money for it. What’s a whole cherry pie here and there in the scheme of things?