A Feedee's Story Ch. 01: First Date

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A first: a woman who loves my size and wants me fatter.
1.5k words
4.52
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11

Part 1 of the 6 part series

Updated 06/09/2023
Created 12/19/2018
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ReeCalor
ReeCalor
14 Followers

I stood in front of my closet, eyeing my clothing options for the evening; making a decision was proving to be more difficult than I'd originally thought. If this were a run-of-the-mill date, I'd just wear something that I thought looked nice, but this wasn't a run-of-the-mill date. This was a first date, and my first date with a woman who loved fat guys and, more importantly, loved feeding them.

I finally decided on a short-sleeve button-down over a tank top. The tank top had been slightly snug when I first bought it, but time and my ever-increasing appetite had rendered nonexistent what little extra fabric there was. The button-down served as some additional cover, just in case she wasn't as enamored of large, jiggly bellies and moobs as she'd led me to believe. Satisfied with what I was wearing, I took one last glance in the mirror and headed for the bar.

I sat outside, nursing a beer to calm my nerves while I waited. After what felt like an eternity (but was likely only 20 minutes), I heard the door open.

"Ree?" a voice inquired. I looked up, and there she was, stunning in a 1950's pin-up girl kind of way. She sat down and we talked; the conversation flowed as easily as the alcohol, and I felt my nervousness evaporating. The conversation turned to feedism, and she explained that she'd always been attracted to fat guys.

"What made you realize that you're a feeder?" I asked, and for a moment she didn't respond.

Then, she leaned forward, caressed my belly with her hands, and in a low, sultry voice said, "When I realized that as much as I like big bellies, what really turns me on is making them bigger."

The temperature dipped as evening gave way to night, and we went inside. The bar was more crowded now, so we picked a table in the corner where we wouldn't be disturbed. After some more flirting, she leaned in again, and our mouths pressed together, our tongues sliding lazily against one another. As we kissed, I felt her hands slide from my belly to my belt. Deftly lifting up my gut, she unbuttoned my pants.

"You shouldn't hide such a beautiful belly," she purred. She released my belly, letting it fall into my lap in all its soft, jiggly glory. A slight surge of discomfort gripped me - we were in public, after all, and here I was with my belly spilling into my lap. Before I had time to register my unease, she leaned in for another kiss, and though I was acutely aware of her hands lifting, dropping and massaging my gut, I suddenly felt a lot less concerned about what the other patrons might think. After a few more moments, she leaned back, detaching her lips from mine as her hands stayed firmly planted on my belly.

"I think you need to eat."

I buttoned my pants and paid the tab at the bar as she waited at the table, gazing intently at her phone. She looked up as I returned to the table: "I hope you like pizza." I nodded dumbly, and she smiled devilishly as she took my hand and led me out of the bar. (Luckily I'd had the presence of mind to put my belly away.) Her apartment was a short walk away, and as we headed to her place, two thoughts crossed my mind: that I am definitely a feedee and, slightly more worrying, that I never asked how big she likes her guys.

We arrived at her apartment and she turned on the TV. "So what did you order?" I inquired, knowing full well that it didn't matter; I was going to eat every last bite she put in front of me.

"You'll see," she responded airily. "But you must be uncomfortable in all those tight clothes - I think you should get settled in." She took off my shorts first, planting a light kiss on my gut as it peeked out from under my shirt. Then she worked her way up, taking off my button-down and then the tank top, leaving me standing in the living room in nothing but my underwear. Her breathing quickened as she ran her hands over my naked torso, taking special care to heft my moobs in her hands. "That's much better."

A few moments later, the doorbell rang, and her eyes lit up as she skipped to the intercom. "Be right down!" she called in a cheery voice. I sat on the couch, hungry and a bit apprehensive. Something in my brain issued a feeble warning against overeating, but it was quickly drowned out by every other fiber of my being. I told myself that I wouldn't stop eating until there was nothing left to eat.

The door opened, and I saw the boxes first: two large pizzas, a 2-liter of Coke, cheesy bread, and a third, smaller box, the contents of which I couldn't discern. She presented them to me daintily, like a handmaiden presenting a feast to a king returned from battle. I opened the first box, and she chuckled as she saw the avarice in my eyes. She picked up the first piece and aimed it at my mouth. "I figured you wanted triple cheese on here," she grinned. I nodded in reply, my mouth watering. She gently fed me the first piece, and I immediately reached for another. "I guess you ARE a hungry piggy, huh?" she teased.

I wolfed down the first pizza faster than I'd ever eaten anything before. "You look thirsty," she said. I nodded, and she slid the 2-liter of soda in my direction.

"Could I have a glass?" I asked; her chuckle made me immediately realize what a foolish request that was. She unscrewed the top and handed the bottle to me, and I tipped it back, the fizzy, sugary mixture blending perfectly with the salty, savory taste of the cheese.

The second pizza was halfway done, and I could barely move - I was more full than I'd ever been in my life. Sensing that I was reaching a plateau, she leaned over and softly kissed me, gently rubbing my belly. "You've eaten quite a bit, piggy. But I think you can eat a little more. Don't you? Don't you want to fill that gorgeous belly?" Looking into her warm brown eyes, I knew I'd eat every last morsel of that pizza, consequences be damned. I tore into the second half of the pizza like a competitive eater, alternating huge bites of pizza slathered in melted cheese with large swigs of soda. I reached the last bite, my head swimming from the beer and the effort. She picked it up, dangling it in front of my mouth. "Just one more to go. You've been such a good boy." With my last reserve of strength, I chewed and swallowed the crust as the thought of my stomach bursting like a piñata raced through my mind. I'd never been more full in my life.

I leaned back and started to massage my swollen gut, but her skillful hands moved mine away and tenderly rubbed my belly. She kissed me again, forcefully and passionately, then stood up. She picked up the mysterious third box from the table and headed for her bedroom; as if in a daze, I followed her, my overloaded stomach thudding with every step. "Lie down and relax," she instructed, and like a good piggy I obeyed. My stomach barely moved as I laid back, full as it was with copious amounts of food and drink. She stripped down to nothing, revealing an amazing body with curves and a soft, cute belly. She climbed into the bed next to me, kneeling almost worshipfully next to my engorged gut. She massaged my heaving belly, the silence in the room punctuated only by the sound of the tender kisses she planted on my newfound fat and my muted groans. After a few minutes, she reached for her nightstand and turned back with the mystery box now open- two lava cakes, molten chocolate oozing out of them. "Piggy did such a good job with his dinner that he earned a dessert."

I opened my mouth to protest, only to close it again. I knew I was going to eat them; more importantly, I knew it wouldn't matter if I said I couldn't. Every bite past my limit only solidified what I'd always known on some level, that I am a fat pig, and nothing makes me happier than gorging myself and growing new layers of soft, wobbly blubber for someone to play with. She heaped the dessert onto a fork and guided it to my mouth, taking care to smear a little chocolate on my lips that she could lick off as I ate for her pleasure and mine.

I finished the first cake, and as she prepared the first bite of the second, she straddled me, the pressure making me groan with a mixture of pleasure and agony. She leaned in and kissed me again, her hands exploring every inch of my fat body.

"Just a few more bites, and then I've got another treat for you."

ReeCalor
ReeCalor
14 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymousalmost 2 years ago

Make the feeder become the feedee as punishment for something the feedee did futher down the line in the story

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