It was exhilarating. The more I gained, the happier she seemed to be. I expected that, of course, but on some level, I guess I was still conditioned to think that getting fat was a bad thing. Slowly but surely, though, she was training me, re-wiring me to embrace how huge I was getting, to celebrate every soft, fleshy pound, every added inch of wobbly fat.
The pounds kept piling on. I never wanted to disappoint her, and she knew it. She was adept at making me feel proud of my growing body while simultaneously reminding me that I wasn’t quite fat enough for her. I knew what she was doing, of course, but it was a testament to how completely she had me wrapped around her pudgy fingers that I gladly went along with whatever she asked. I wasn’t just a piggy; I was her piggy. And I wanted to make her happy.
* * *
It was a Saturday morning. I sat on her couch, nursing a slight hangover; we’d gone out to a bar the night before. She had a bit of an exhibitionist streak, and she loved taking me to bars, ordering seemingly endless amounts of food and showing me off. I admit I was a little uncomfortable putting my gluttony on public display, so I picked at my food.
I’d tried to do the same the night before. She had other plans. She’d taken me by the hand and brought me over to a table right by the bar, in full view of all the patrons.
“Wait here,” she said as she sat me down and walked over to the bar. I admired her as she walked; I couldn’t get enough of the view of her wide hips and chubby legs.
A few moments passed, and I started looking around the bar. I noticed more than a few eyeballs on me, none of which were particularly friendly. I could practically feel everyone judging me; I never felt self-conscious when I was with her, but when I was on my own, the nagging self-doubt crept in. Was I getting too fat? What did I look like to everyone else? I could feel my shirt hugging my rolls, and I found myself wishing I’d worn something roomier.
Before I had a chance to fall too deeply down that particular rabbit hole, she returned to bahçeşehir escort the table, wordlessly handing me a drink. I thanked her, and she muttered a reply. I sensed that I’d upset her.
“Are you okay?” I offered. “You seem a bit distant.”
“Yep,” she replied curtly. “I’m fine.”
I struggled to find something to break the ice. “Crowded in here.” She nodded her assent. We sat there in silence for a while; just as I was about to try a new avenue of discussion, a waitress appeared with a massive serving tray laden with food.
“Are you guys expecting more people?” the waitress asked. “We can move you to a booth if you want some more space for all this food.”
My feeder smiled. “Nope, just us! He’s feeling a little hungry,” she said, winking at me. I smiled sheepishly.
The waitress’ smile faded a bit, but she was a professional. “Oh! Okay then- I’ll just leave the stand here so you have room on the table.” The waitress placed the tray on the stand and departed, and I chanced another glance around the room. The same eyes that were on me before were still on me; this time, however, the stares were coupled with nudges and nods in my direction to their friends. The doubts started to creep back in. I didn’t like feeling like a sideshow. And I had absolutely no idea how I could possibly eat all this food.
My feeder could sense my hesitation. Before I knew it, she was standing next to me, grabbing my face and pulling me in for a passionate kiss. Her hands caressed my gut and moobs before she deftly slid them under my belly resting in what remained of my lap, rubbing my stiffening cock through my pants. She continued to rub as she leaned in close to me.
“You are my piggy,” she whispered. “You belong to me. And I want to show off my big, fat boy and his enormous appetite to everyone here. Do you understand?”
I was so turned on by her dominance, by the way she so completely staked her claim to me in the middle of this crowd of people. I nodded meekly.
“Say you understand that you are bakırköy escort my piggy. Say you will eat every last bite for me,” she whispered.
“I am your piggy. I’ll eat everything you put in front of me,” I moaned.
She gave my dick one more squeeze for good measure, then sat back down in her chair. “Good boy,” she said. “Now eat.”
And I did, with reckless abandon.
With every bite, I cared less and less about what others thought of me. My only concern was for her happiness — if she wanted me to eat everything in sight, then that’s exactly what I would do. As I gorged myself, she moved her chair closer, putting herself in arm’s reach of my swollen gut. She slid her hand under my too-tight shirt. I moaned softly as I finished my third serving of mozzarella sticks. Sensing I might be nearing my limit for myself, she rubbed my gut with one hand and kissed my neck. Her free hand slid yet another basket of chicken tenders toward me, picking one up and dipping it into the tub of honey mustard sauce she’d ordered.
I took a deep breath as her delicate hand maneuvered the chicken strip toward my mouth. Her hand moved from my gut back down to my cock as she pushed the food past my lips. I took a bite, then another, then another, all while she gently massaged my throbbing dick through my pants. I belonged to her, and she knew it.
Before long, the table was piled with empty baskets of food. At that point, I knew everyone was staring outright, but I had tunnel vision. All I could see was her, beaming at me. She was so proud of her piggy, and I was so proud she was my feeder. She pulled me in close, her hand wrapping around the back of my neck as she gave me a passionate kiss. And as we kissed, my shirt suddenly felt looser.
We looked down; not one, but two buttons had popped off following the onslaught of my massive gut against them. Under normal circumstances, I might have blushed, but at that moment I barely even noticed. All I cared about was her.
* * *
On her couch the next morning, I başakşehir escort watched TV with a quart of cream in my hand. She’d handed it to me when she sat me down on the couch, telling me to “drink up” while she worked on something.
“Baby, I’m almost done with my drink,” I called. “What are you working on?”
“It’s a surprise, piggy,” I heard her respond from the kitchen. “In fact, I’m just about done, so finish up that cream and come in here.”
I eagerly drank the last of the cream, feeling its velvety heaviness settle in my stomach. I licked my lips — the cream was a nice way to start the day, but now I was ready for a real meal. I rocked forward, trying to use my momentum to stand up. As I struggled, I heard her voice as she stood over me.
“Aw, piggy’s having a little trouble, huh? Here, let me help.”
I looked up and was once again taken by her beauty. She was wearing a tank top and panties that, between her big thighs and soft belly, scarcely seemed to exist at all. She held out her arm and helped lift me up, and I wrapped my arm around her wide, soft hip as we made our way to the kitchen. “I’m really proud of you, piggy,” she said as we walked. “You were quite the glutton last night.”
I kissed her cheek. “Anything for you, baby.”
“I know,” she responded airily, returning the kiss. “Last night proved that, which is why you’ve earned this surprise.”
We entered the kitchen. On the floor was…well, the best way to describe it was a trough of sorts. I could see bacon, eggs, pancakes, waffles, all topped with a generous helping of maple syrup. I turned to her, my eyebrows raised.
She leaned in and kissed me again. “You did a great job while I was feeding you. Now I want to watch you act like the piggy you are.” On the table was a length of rope; next to it, a funnel. She moved over to the table, picked up a length of rope, and began tying my hands behind my back. I was stunned, but I had no choice: if it would make her happy to watch me eat like the pig I was, then I’d do it.
“What about the funnel?” I asked, my voice betraying my intense excitement.
“Oh, that’s for dessert,” she replied. “If you’re good, that is. Now get to work, fat boy.” I dropped to my knees and lowered my face to the trough; she sat in a chair in front of me, removed her panties and began playing with her clit.
“Good piggy.”