chapter 1

It's difficult to precisely pinpoint where it began psychologically. Was it growing up overweight as a boy? Was it a mother who overfed everyone in sight, even the family pet? Was it the product of spending too much time on feabie, fantasy feeder, and the like? When had Eric taken his first steps down the road to this oversized aged leather couch, waiting for some shrink to grace him with his presence? In a more direct and proximate sense, it all started with a referral from a well-intentioned marriage counselor.

On the surface, some might have said Eric was living the 'American Dream.' A new house with a new car parked out front. A promising career that not only offered a paycheck, but a cause in which Eric felt impassioned (with, all things considered, a manageable student debt). All of these and newly-wed to a wife who objectively speaking was quite a catch in her own right. One may never have guessed something was amiss from the image portrayed on social media, but of course, as the cliche goes, appearances can be deceiving.

Looking scrupulously, the slightest of cracks in the seemingly flawless facade emerged months into the marriage, as Eric started to change. Stephanie, born and raised in an affluent suburb of Southern California, maintained her appearance without missing a step. Perfect makeup, the latest fashions, a well-kept physique. She could have passed as a trophy wife, though Eric by no means ever sought such a spouse. Where Eric's physique was concerned, however, he had missed more than a few steps as of late. Although classically handsome, Eric had grown up quite the butterball as a child. It had taken years of painstaking days in the gym combined with strict dieting to melt away what his family affectionately titled Eric's "baby fat." Eric had kept up a six-pack from high-school until his honeymoon in Kawaii, for which Stephanie unequivocally approved. Yet much to Stephanie's chagrin, Eric's "baby fat" seemed to be creeping back as of late.

Every night, Stephanie frowned as she evaluated her increasingly portly husband asleep beside her. The muscular upper body, for which Stephanie had grown accustomed, gave way to a doughy layer of flab. Stephanie had never dated a fat man, or even a man one would consider chubby, but for the first time she found a pair of love handles on her once strapping prince. She dared not think about what had happened to Eric's once vaunted abs, or how soft his belly might grow should this trend continue.

As time progressed, the trend indeed continued, notwithstanding Stephanie's best efforts. With Stephanie commandeering the kitchen, hearty dinners gave way to garden salads conservatively sprinkled with lite dressings. Eric's beverage of choice, locally brewed IPAs, were substituted for those god awful 65 calorie beers marketed to the fitness crowd, which hardly included Eric these days. Stephanie would brood in frustration as to how Eric could possibly still be gaining. Where could all of those calories be coming from? Stephanie would find the answer strewn about the house in the form of empty packages of frosted animal crackers and discarded king-sized Kit-Kat wrappers. Stephanie would meticulously pack the healthiest of lunches, only to learn of Eric eating out with his coworkers once again. Reminding Eric to exercise? That was a lost cause, and Stephanie knew it.

Eric hated when Stephanie brought up his weight with others, but friends and family assured her it was perfectly normal. Eric, after all, was knocking on the door of thirty. Working extra hours behind a desk left little time for the gym. To be sure, diet and exercise, or more accurately lack thereof, certainly played a major role. Such justifications only scratched the surface, though, for in reality, Eric was giving in to desires he'd long kept at bay. Urges to eat copious amounts of food when he wasn't even hungry and the more Eric gave into his fantasies, the farther and farther he wanted to take them. Eric hadn't accidentally gotten chubby; he'd loved every second of it. Eric had a fetish.

At first, years before marrying Stephanie, Eric had been content reading a story here and a story there online in the "Dimensions Library." In the early stages of his "kink," Eric would find himself drawn to cute girls who "porked up," his eyes lingering as they traded fit legs and toned midriffs for thunder thighs and tummies. Yet to answer the initial question posed above, the precise pinpoint moment in which Eric's kink began to spiral out of control was during his second year of college in the dorms. An attractive sophomore from the third floor often dropped by unannounced to kill time with Eric, Eric's roommate, and his roommate's X-box, but this time was different. This time, it was only him and only her...and a large apple pie. She enjoyed baking in a table-top confection oven she kept in her own dorm room, albeit in violation of the university's fire code. She often teased Eric about "ruining his figure," as she saw him frequently in the school's weight room and knew how strict he kept to his diet. Yet with her freshly baked pie in hand, actions soon backed up words. She sauntered into Eric's room as he studied alone, wearing a tight tank top and pair of form-fitting black leggings that emphasized every curve. The scent of cinnamon and baked apples filled the air.

"I baked you a pie," she said with a warm smile.

In hindsight, Eric often wondered if the young woman from his dorm was in fact a feeder. Whether this was wishful thinking or a reality, Eric could never say for certain. What he knew for sure, was the sultry specter from perhaps his naughtiest and most intensely erotic memory had insisted he eat every bite of the pie. One thing led to another and Eric found himself sharing his small twin sized mattress. Her hands found their way down to his waist. The slightest of smirks crept across her lips, as she pinched an ever-so-slight pocket of fat. With Eric's belly stuffed to the brink with her fattening dessert, she sent him over the edge, climaxing harder than he ever had in the past, or ever would in the future. From there forward, Eric's fate was sealed: he was a feedee.

Sadly, Eric's presumptive college feeder transferred shortly thereafter to another university. Afterwards, Eric buried the experience deep within, never to speak of it again. Eric had worked hard to shed the weight from his childhood. He was in no rush to return to the days of teasing he once faced as a young, plump boy. It was beyond reproach, Eric lamented, that women preferred fit over fat. If he wanted to be successful with women, he certainly couldn't allow himself to pig out on apple pies. Years later, Stephanie proved no exception to the prevailing status quo.

Unbeknownst to Eric, planting this memory deep in the recesses of his mind only offered a temperate climate for the seeds of desire to germinate within his sub-conscious. So-called "normal" sexual thoughts became overgrown with verdant scenarios of wanton feederism. Fantasy crept into reality. No longer content to just read about weight gain, Eric created profiles on sites geared toward his kink. These sated Eric for a time, but left with only a virtual outlet, the vines of feederism continued to spread. Eric's figurative sexual appetites blossomed into an appetite of a more literal sense. Food and sex grew intertwined, until the two were hopelessly entangled. The more Eric ate, the more it turned him on. The more weight Eric gained, the more he wanted to gain.

This was not what Stephanie had bargained for in a husband. To be fair, Stephanie's concern with her spouse's weight wasn't solely superficial. She was genuinely concerned for his health, should Eric grow significantly overweight, which appeared a greater likelihood by the day. The final straw came in the form of an ice cold bed the two shared at night. Stephanie, though she cared for Eric, found herself less attracted to him as he gained. Eric fell deeper into a fantasy world and isolated himself from her. Eric feared telling Stephanie about his kink, for she had actively ridiculed the fetish at each instance he had passively brought it up. Eric knew she would never be able to wrap her head around it, let alone accept it. A wall formed between them and, at Stephanie's insistence, the couple soon sought the support of a marriage counselor.

During their first few sessions, Eric was tight-lipped. Stephanie's actions were hardly ill-intentioned, but Stephanie only filled the silence with comments on how her husband had "let himself go." Eric felt embarrassed as she told the counselor this, but he could not deny the accuracy of her comments, or pretend that the reality of how chubby he'd let himself become didn't turn him on like crazy.

"Sweetheart, I've only gained a few pounds. Let's not blow this out of proportion," Eric chimed in, attempting to get a word in edge-wise.

"A few?!?" Stephanie replied in exacerbation. "Eric, you're up almost 30 pounds. I've never seen you this heavy!"

The counselor attempted to mediate, but only made Eric feel worse as he did. "Well, sometimes people turn to food in times of stress. Eric, is it possible that work may have thrown a lot on your plate lately?"

Eric found the counselor's question an incredibly poor choice of words, given that they were addressing Eric getting fat, but Eric had no interest in prolonging his agony. Eric begrudgingly agreed that work had indeed been stressful, which wasn't necessarily inaccurate.