Bay for pigs

Chapter 1 - josephine prologue

It was probably about time to reel things in a little bit. It all began when Tracy casually and jestingly mentioned that she had come across a “feeder” on Tinder. I mean it all probably began well before that, but it was after that conversation that Josephine looked up what a feeder fetish was, which in turn led her to discovering what a feedee fetish was. That discovery gave her a warm heavy feeling in her crotch which was not too dissimilar from the feeling she got when she allowed herself to overindulge in a large meal: a feeling she had mostly ignored or at most thought all people felt when engaging with food, but now this new internet rabbit hole she had tumbled into was telling her that warm heavy feeling was the result of a full-blown fetish: an object or bodily part whose real or fantasized presence is psychologically necessary for sexual gratification. For her the object was food and increasingly more of it, and the bodily part was her belly.

Tracy had made her likely benign feeder comment sometime around the beginning of October and less than a week later the snow began to move into Marquette. For Joey that meant more time to hole up in her apartment scouring the newly discovered forums. Everytime she logged on she read about greedy feedees begging to be fed, eager feeders feeding those feedees, and of course fully fed feedees getting fucked by feeders. These excursions into this new fat-loving underworld would invariably lead to a horny Joey, which these days was ubiquitous with a hungry Joey, so Joey would indulge herself.

As winter set in, so did Joey’s new routine of scrolling through feederism forums accompanied by horny solo stuff sessions, and the more she indulged the more she needed to satisfy her indulgences. She started out just grabbing a thing or two from the fridge or cupboard so she could have something to idly munch on while she read about greedy piggies getting stuffed to the max. But a few idle snacks didn’t cut it for long and soon enough she began buying special treats at the grocery store specifically for these occasions. Things like hostess cakes, oreos, or anything made by tollhouse which shew would hide in her room for her nights as a single but eager feedee. When that too stopped being enough she would order whole meals on door dash and large pizzas just for herself. By the time the darkness of winter began to ease, she was ordering meals from different places on nights when none of her housemates were home. It was so hard to control herself when all she was reading about was other porkers getting stuffed to their limit for the sheer gluttonous pleasure of it. She wanted to find her limit too, and as strange as it still was for her she was getting some real pleasure from it. Pleasure like she had never experienced before. On her most indulgent nights when she would lay flat on her bed surrounded by empty take out boxes and the wrappers of too many treats, nearly pinned down by the weight of her distended and globose belly, dazed by the sheer mass of calories she had consumed, and feeling more massive and disgusting than she ever imagined she could be, she would use the last of her energy to shove one last hostess cupcake into her greedy mouth with one hand and with the other she’d press her vibrator against her dripping pussy and come like she never had before.

Needless to say, this period of erotic self-discovery was not without its outward effects. And outward the effects certainly were, but surprisingly to her, she was not entirely displeased. Josephine had always been on the more “robust” side of physiques, being of that sturdy midwestern stock and raised by loving but maybe a little overly indulgent parents who were never great at saying no to stop at the local ice cream shop or McD's. There was never any hope for a thin Joey. Not to say that she was ever really “fat” (be patient), but she was a chubby kid and to her eternal frustration as a self-conscious teenager she was never able to overcome her inherent apple body shape. The absolute bane of her adolescent and even through her college years was her damned tummy, which no matter the diet or work-out routine would not lay flat against her torso. She always wished that if she was going to be cursed as a fat girl she could at least be fat in the “good way”. She prayed for those idealized feminine curves: wide hips, fat ass, and a pair of heavy tits. But alas, through very fluctuation in weight that occurred in her life the extra pounds were quickly accumulated and strenuously shed above her hips and below her tits and mostly in her little pot belly. This winter’s bounty was no exception to this rule (except in scale). Her arms had certainly rounded and softened and her thighs had thickened out a bit. She definitely had some more padding on the hips and even her ass seemed to stick out the slightest bit more. She would have sworn her tits got bigger despite no change in cup size, but her belly was the real show stopper. It had transformed over those winter months from a modest pot belly that most would consider cute, but few would say was even chubby, to a massive ball of soft white dough that would effortlessly flop over any waist band that tried to overtake it and lift up any shirt that tried to block its deep dark belly button from the world’s view. Even those baggy hoodies that she frequented during those winter months began to show that first sign of strain. Her belly demanded attention and demanded more treats. But unlike other times in her life when she lost control of her belly, she was not disgusted, but edging towards fondness, even pride, and she was far from being at a place where she would admit it, but her own body was beginning to turn her on.

In her late night bouts of self-discovery she had from the beginning fixated on the girls with outsized soft bellies. The belly was to her the ultimate badge of gluttony. It was a central accumulation of a lifestyle’s worth of indulgence. It was something these girls flouted to the world as a way of saying “I can’t control myself and don’t even try. I prioritize pleasure over acceptance”. A big belly was the result of only one thing: being a greedy piggy. And as her belly grew in greater proportion to the rest of her body she was for the first time happy about her body type, She could be like the girls she admired on the web, and when she saw all the horny feeders doting over these big bellied girls, begging to let them feed and caress those bellies, she felt like she was being admired. She felt encouragement and admiration by proxy.

By the time winter ended Joey was a new girl: a bigger and hungrier girl. She had fully immersed herself in the fetish. Food and sex were fully interchangeable and inseparable for her now. She desperately wanted a feeder, but didn’t know how to do it. She had made accounts on a couple feeder fetish sites, chatted casually with a couple far away feeders, and even posted a couple stuffed belly pics for the encouragement (which she received plenty from horny feeders). But even with the immersion into this new found online community, she still had her doubts that any of it existed in the real world. There certainly were real world effects i.e. her newly fattened belly, but she had yet to encounter any real world fetishists.