Chapter 1 - peter spouts poetry

(NOTE: Inspired by a roleplay with a special fellow FantasyFeeder. You know who you are. Let's do this soon.)

Ashly sat atop Peter stuffing him mercilessly. Everything about him was hot, she thought, but especially his body. His 312-pound naked body! That is how much he weighed when she first met him and started fattening him up even more. After this last month, he is no doubt even heavier than that. She found it fascinating how much he could eat, and she had encouraged him to eat even more - often until she could barely stuff in another bite.

And then she made sure he could stuff in another bite.

Persuading Peter to eat was easy, she thought, like giving candy to a baby. She giggled, remembering a time back in her stripping days when her nickname was indeed Candy. Giving Candy to a baby, she chuckled to herself, a big fat baby.

They met a month ago through an online dating service. Peter had never been able to find a date before, and he was shocked to have attracted such a hottie. Despite her past, Ashly looked like the girl-next-door-type with blonde hair and shiny blue eyes. When they first met, she was about a third of his weight, not even 105 pounds.

Ashly was muscular and strong, and her fitness showed in bed as it once had on the stripper's pole. Unlike Peter, she worked out a lot, and she had the muscles to show for it. Her arms and her thighs were slender, but they were hardened, and she was much stronger than her newest victim - uh, boyfriend. And her waist was quite slender, 19 inches around. She was 5'2" to his 5'10". She often wore high heels with sharp spikes to help make up the difference in their heights. Those high heels, a bra and panties were all she had on as she stuffed more food into Peter.

Her physical abilities in bed were just what a poor fat slob like Peter desired. All he had to do was lie there, and she did all the work. Even though he barely moved, he still managed to work up a sweat and was now breathing so heavily, he could barely recite his latest poem between bites.

Peter was a bit of a nerd - a writer, a poet of sorts although he rarely showed his poetry to others. But to his goddess Ashley, he showed all his writing, even his journals and old diaries, he revealed his vulnerabilities to her, and he even spoke poetry as she stuffed him, his mouth full of fattening food and full of romantic words for Ashly.

"I spout poetry as you stuff me mercilessly," he said between bites, his breathing and words coming in short gasps, as he tried to catch his breath. "A plumpened Plutarch, I write a sonnet for every ton of calories as I sing praise to your curves." He nearly had a coughing fit as she shoved a hamburger between his pink full lips.

"Go on," she encouraged him with a wink, knowing that he could barely talk with so much food in his mouth. She massaged his neck, helping him swallow the food in big chunks. She loved Peter for his mind. He was nothing like any man she had ever known before -- certainly not those horndogs who had lusted after her body in the strip club years ago.

"That perfectly formed bottom of yours, those hardened buttocks pushing into my soft bulging belly, how hard and strong you are, and me like jelly," he rhymed to the rhythm of Ashly pushing herself up and down on his massive gut.

Much as she wished to be all business, a cold calculating feeder mistress, Ashly actually felt giddy inside, and she worked to suppress a chuckle, making her expression stern. "And tell me how soft and weak you are becoming, how fat am I making you, how unfit you have become," she ordered Peter.

She occasionally fantasized about herself gaining weight. It just looked like so much fun. She imagined herself getting fatter and fatter until she was about the size of Peter, still sitting atop him, but occasionally indulging her own appetite in delicious foods. It was all she could do to keep herself from taking a bite of a donut before thrusting it into his mouth.

But she was strong - in body and willpower. For now. She remembered that she had given in to temptation some the last few weeks, and it was showing a little on her midsection as she rode Peter's gut. Peter did not answer her, so stuffed was his mouth and so unhealthy that he was again gasping for air as if he had run a marathon.

"Tell me what a fat f*cker I've made you into," she ordered again, nearly spitting the words between her deep red lips. "Tell me, you fat f*cker."

Peter tried to speak, but each time he opened his mouth, she shoved more food in, making it impossible for him to do much more than moan and groan. Feeling his belly beneath her, Ashly imagined it growing right between her wide-spread legs as she straddled him. Oh, gawd, she thought, conjuring the image of him even bigger. She couldn't stop herself from gushing a bit into her panties, and he felt her slick juices soaking through and onto his belly, warm and wet.

(Continued)