chapter 1

Author's note: This story is close to my heart, as the characters grew out of a full-length novel I wrote years ago. In that story, the feeding/wg dynamic was implicit - here I've decided to explore it fully, as it was always my favourite erotic fantasy. I hope you enjoy x

Chapter One

Gwen swiped her index finger, neatly manicured in dark purple, over her phone, as she hurried out the doorway of her apartment, dragging a black leopard-print coat over her shoulders and trying to close the door with her boot. In the apartment next door, her neighbor Mort was having one of his loud parties, the music 'doof doof'-ing down the hall.

As Gwen hastened down the communal corridor, she texted her best friend:
On my way. Got held up at fucking work; didn't want to get there smelling like nail polish remover!

By the time she was sliding into her old hatchback car in the underground parking lot, Martin had sent a reply:
I wouldn't care if you did, Gweny! No rush anyway, flight is delayed of course -urghhhh :/

Gwen smiled, and started her car. After a stressful few months, she knew that having Martin in town again would make all the difference.

'Friends'. Somehow, the word did not seem sufficient. Or maybe it had been so cheapened by casual Facebook connections that it no longer commanded the meaning it should have. For Gwen, it still meant something to call someone a friend.
'Perhaps that's why I have so few', she thought with a smirk, as she reached the highway. There was no such thing as 'just friends'; friendship was not something to be cast aside in favour of a romantic attachment. She had been surprised and angry, to say the least, when one of her best female friends had consistently cancelled every arrangement in order to spend more time with her fiancee, before finally moving to Melbourne without so much as a 'goodbye' to Gwen.

With Martin, though, things had always been different. During each relationship, they had consistently found support and solace in each other, whether it was through binge-watching trashy movies, playing games, shopping or just earnest conversation.

Gwen and Martin had first become friends in high school, despite the fact that Gwen was five years Martin's senior. Martin had been a precocious, but shy boy, in whom Gwen had seen great authenticity and kindness. She had been smoking at the back of the school building, when she had spied the plump, blonde little boy trying to rescue an injured magpie; she had butted out her cigarette on the spot to assist him, and they had taken the bird to the local vet in Gwen's car. In the early days of their friendship, he had confessed that he liked other boys. In many ways, Gwen had been pleased--she had no desire for the complication of any romantic feelings, threatening to ruin the friendship.

Now, at twenty-eight, Gwen was a slim and athletic young women, with refined features (sometimes prone to what she called 'resting bitch face') and the mocha-coloured skin she had inherited from her Indian mother. Despite this, she been raised regionally by her father, and had turned out 100% Aussie. She favoured skinny jeans and singlets, showing off several thousand dollars worth of tattoo work she gotten in the past couple of years. She worked in a nail salon, but loved the gym and dreamt of one day being a fitness instructor--though what money she made at the moment was not enough to pay for even a fraction of the training course.

Only at the gym did she really feel like herself, completely in control. She simply wasn't able to muster much enthusiasm for her female friends' constant talk of boys, dating, and, later on, marriage and kids. For a few years, she was sure this meant that she was gay, but after a lackluster fling with a girl, she had to count this out too. And yet she often felt lonely. That Martin was coming to live with her again, after staying several months in Sydney with his family, filled her with happiness. Martin was pleased to be returning to the countryside, and had requested a transfer in his department (he worked as a teller for a bank), with a permenant move in mind.

*

Gwen swung into the parking lot at the airport, and hurried inside.

Peering at the 'arrivals' board over the heads of the crowd, she saw that Martin's flight had just landed. She bought a long black for herself and a flat white for Martin from a coffee stand, before taking a seat in the waiting area. She took a sip of coffee, and grimaced. She shot was over-extracted and burned. That's one thing Martin might miss about the city, she thought; decent caffeine.

When the passengers finally began to emerge from the gate, looking crumpled and tired, Gwen stood up, trying to raise herself higher on her high-heeled boots.

Finally, she caught sight of Martin, carrying his bag, dressed in black pants and a t-shirt.
Martin was a fair young man of twenty-three, with golden blonde hair and a round, pretty face. He immediately grinned at the sight of her, waving with his free hand.

"Howdy stranger," Gwen said, embracing him. "Got you something for the road."

"Oh Gweny, you're the best," Martin said with a moan of appreciation, as he accepted the coffee.

"Yeah, you won't say that when you taste it," Gwen joked, seizing Martin's bag from him despite his protests, and flinging it over her shoulder.

"You look good," she added as a matter of course, looking him over properly for the first time as they reached the parking lot. He was slimmer than she remembered, without any trace of what his mother used to call his 'baby fat' -though his round face and bubble-butt still hinted that he was someone who naturally tended towards chubbiness.

"Thanks," said Martin, smiling; "yeah, Chad's been making me go the gym. It's been awful."

"Ah, yeah, of course he has," said Gwen, rolling her eyes. Chad was Martin's elder brother, and a confirmed fitness fanatic who had spent most of his youth haranguing Martin about the importance of diet and excersise. "Remember when I used to climb up to your window to sneak you KFC?"

Martin laughed. "Oh my god. If Chad had ever seen! ...You know what, though, I think he's actually gotten worse. Like, I'll never look like him no matter how much I work out. It's going to be so nice to be away from it, to be honest..."

"Yeah, glad I can continue to exert a bad influence," said Gwen.

"It wasn't all you, Gweny," Martin said fairly. "I mean, I'd send you messages asking for KFC, remember."

"Yeah, so I'm really just an enabler," grinned Gwen.
"What do you say, we grab some KFC now and go veg out, hey?"

"Sounds perfect," said Martin.