From Feeder to Feedee. Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Embarrassing isn't it?

Finding yourself so bloated and stuffed that you're incapable of moving from your lay-z-boy.

Your gut taut and round nearing the edge of your knees.

Like a swine you have spent this much time overly satiating yourself and now you feel disgusted and sorry for yourself. You wanted this so badly and now you're filled with both fat and remorse.

But please, suppress those feelings of guilt.

Just give in. Lose control.

Stuff yourself.

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The grease stains on your shirt aren't going anywhere soon. It seems every meal you've eaten has gotten larger over time. Along with your waistline.

You told yourself you didn't want to do this. You promised you wouldn't grow impatient since your ex feedee moved so far away.

But you craved the feel of their soft supple body. The way their ass wobbled when they walked and how every inch of excess adipose jiggled and rippled when they moved.

You needed it. You couldn't live without it. You found yourself searching for hours for someone close enough to have a little fun with or at least someone willing to travel every now and then. But you had no such luck. There were a few people who enjoyed viewing other plumpers just the same as you do. But that's not the same. You wanted to feel them and feed them.

After countless hours of searching you finally gave up. You even paid people online to fuel your visual desires. Hundreds of dollars you spent supporting the biggest feedees you could find. But that wasn't enough. You needed in-person contact. Gentle squeezing, feeding, and caressing. Your needs weren't being met and your emotions began to spiral…along with your appetite.

Without even noticing you were grabbing for extra snacks at the checkout lanes. Perfectly placed to sucker you into buying them. Every week you made an extra stop at the drive-thru because you refused to make yourself a home cooked meal. Then on days where you left work early you chose delivery over spending five minutes to make a salad. Surely enough, your slow descent into softness was catching up to you.

Glancing at yourself in the mirror before you stepped into the shower you placed your hand across your lower abdomen. What was once a firm six pack was now a thin layer of soft pliable fat. The outline of your six pack was still visible however…you couldn't help but wonder how many more meals it would take before they became buried under an even thicker layer of chub.

But no, not you. The feeder. Thee feeder. You were the fit one. Disciplined. You rarely indulged let alone chase after a full meal. No, not you. You were never the one to let yourself go. You fed others only watch them let themselves go. You didn't even have to count calories you ate so little. Hunger never bothered you. You were too wrapped up in spending your money on food for others.

Food. Something everyone enjoys. Such an easy addiction to aquire. Delicious bountiful feasts. Decadent cakes. Thick hearty meals. No wonder the population is growing quite literally. Sugar in nearly everything. Fast food at every corner. Snacks a plenty at gas stations. Food rarely needs marketed since it's everywhere. Obesity isn't rare now. You couldn't possibly see yourself joining the club of overweight people. But that urge…that animalistic urge to feed someone was taking over your every thought. Clouding your mind even. You wanted it so badly but didn't have the means to seek someone so far away. There wasn't an opportune moment.

Now there you were glaring down at your pudgy gut. Eyes nearly digging into your own flesh, mind filled with contemplations, dissecting each thought. "What if…I were to gain even just a little bit of weight?" No. Not you. You were fit. More than fit. Strong. Full of willpower. A good example of what a healthy person should be. You admired yourself for being thin. Not with any means to seem arrogant or self centered but you wanted to be the thin feeder. That was your own personal look. It had nothing to do with hating your own image if you were to become what you loved most. You simply adored the size difference when you were with your beloved feedee. Their mass against your lack thereof. You only found yourself to be in love with the contrast.

"Maybe I could try it out at first…then quickly lose the weight if I wanted to." You pondered over and over while standing in front of the refrigerator. A gallon of chocolate milk started back at you. One thing you loved was chocolate milk. Dairy. Cheeses. But rarely was the occasion where you sat down and delighted yourself in delicious treats and savory meals. You were a giver. You fed every favorite item to your feedee and they happily glut themselves for you. But not this time. You were determined to make yourself into your own prized experiment.

So you stuffed yourself.

And stuffed yourself.

Again and again.

Around the clock.

Your stomach was far too small to fit as much as most of your favorite feedees. They had years of feasting under their belt with overstretched stomach lining and appetites as big as their body could handle. You envied them for that but your determination would prove you could get there someday.

And so you grew.

And ate.

Consumed.

Devoured.

At a small 165 pounds you were finally getting a pot belly. But it was after each stuffing you truly enjoyed yourself. Gaining secretly frightened you but the excitement had you hooked. The loss of discipline and combined heaviness was becoming an addiction that you weren't ready to let go of. So you continued to eat yourself bigger by the day.

You burped, gurgled, groaned and gasped after managing to stuff a large pizza into your overworked stomach. You leaned back at your dining table with your shirt now too tight to pull down. Angry bubbling come from the indigestion yet you were determined to reach another goal.

A large pizza paired with an order of cheesy bread. You had yet to get all of it down in one sitting but now that you had trained yourself to overeat the willpower to do just that was burning inside of you.

With your belly bulging over your lap you picked up a piece of cheesy bread. Buttery, thick, and salty. Down it went. Piece after piece. You sipped a bit of cola to try and wash it down forcing it to fit. "More…." You whispered to yourself as if you were your own feeder.  Bite after bite you managed to really stuff yourself. Gulping down the second the last bit you glared down at the only piece left. It seemed to taunt you; as if it truly had defeated you.

"Fuck…" You were so full you felt as if fifty percent of your body was now filled with bread and cheese. Your stomach distended and groaning struggling to digest the thick greasy lump that was filling up every corner of your gurgling gut. "Please no-..." You burped scared that it wasn't only going to be gasses coming back up. You moaned, hand slowly lowering towards the last piece. You were dead set on getting the last few bites down even if you popped.

Oh my…popped…

You sat, greasy bread in hand, gathering thoughts about just how much you really could fit inside of yourself. You gazed down at what you were becoming. A pig. Another burp escaped your lips relieving more pressure. "No chance of popping today!" You gobbled down the last morsel and leaned back victoriously. You reached another personal goal as a feedee…

Maybe the worst part from becoming an overindulgent hog is the aftermath. The cleanup. The constant hunger. The money spent on so many thousands of calories. But you had already spiraled out of control. The money wasn't a problem nor was the hunger. Waking up starving 8 hours after you ate yourself into a food coma was unpleasant but didn't dissuade you from stopping.

More…

You would tell yourself.

And at every chance you had copious amounts of carbs, sugar, and grease entered your eager mouth. There was no stopping now. Your belly fat was growing uncontrollably and the rest of your body was growing fatter by the week.

You stuffed yourself in front of cameras for your feeder friends. They mocked you and degraded you for being such a hog. Letting yourself go. Their fit feeder friend had now become what they too enjoyed, an object of their fascination. Your weight had gone from a healthy 145 to 258 pounds in a few months. 300 was drawing so close and it scared you.

But it still wasn't enough for you to quit. In fact you were trying desperately to get every ounce of fat to go straight to your stomach and for the most part it was working. It had gone from a firm pot belly to a flabby, bouncing, wobbling, sack of lard steadily drooping towards your knees. You would lay for hours watching T.V with your legs spread hoping it would suddenly blow up and fill the space between your thighs. Not knowing that would soon be the wish that would come true in the near future.

But your coworkers were starting to notice your incredible weight gain. For a little while you were the subject of gossip. Your button ups were so tight that any slight movement made you nervous…yet excited. Every time you plopped down at your desk your anxiety grew. "Would today be the day a button finally flies off?" Of course whenever donuts were brought in to be shared you shamelessly snuck two or three only to sit in your cubbies and stuff them down your gob.

"285..."

"Holy fuck…I really am getting big…"

With your bulging belly nearly blocking the numbers on the scale the reality was setting in. Within a few months, almost a year, you had grown over 100 pounds.

You still wanted it though. You wanted more and didn't plan on slowing down. You loved to eat now instead of share your favorite foods. What used to be selflessness was now replaced by greed and gluttony. Spoiled from feasting too much and growing lazier every day you had become exactly what you dreamed of having in your own hands.

But you still weren't done with yourself. The craving to only gain a few pounds had turned into a deadly need to outgrow your ex-feedee. They had last weighed in at 450 pounds before their departure. You were hell bent on beating their record and would not stop until the scale read at least 451.