Chapter 3 - ch2 - not so fast, big boy!

Later that afternoon, we are sitting on the couch in the living room. We are mediating an agreement of sorts to satisfy both our fetishes - and my concerns.

"Okay, so you worry about my health," Charles says. ""I want you to stop worrying about it. Even if indulging in your little fetish shaves a year or two off my life..."

"What are you saying?" I interrupt.

"You didn't let me finish. I was saying that even if getting fat makes my life a year or two shorter, pleasing you while doing so will make me immensely happy. People throw away decades of their lives pursuing lesser pleasures."

"I suppose so," I say, considering your words. "I used to love to smoke, and I still like to get drunk, and you enjoy riding your motorbike without a helmet. Oh, you look so beautiful with your blond hair dancing in the wind." I reach out and touch your long curly locks.

"And some people drink in excess, take drugs, eat junk, party, drive too fast, have all kinds of wild sex with all kinds of wild people, and they just plain have fun." You look at me intensely now. "Don't you want to have fun, Nat?"

"Sure I do. I just don't want to hurt you in the process."

"This -" you pat your belly for emphasis " -- does not hurt me. It makes me feel wonderful, knowing that you love it getting bigger. And the prospect of more and more belly and more and more happiness for both of us, well, it excites me to the core." Your body shivers with arousal, making mine do the same.

"But risking your health, as you say, it bothers me a little."

"Believe me, the pleasures of submitting to you - including the pleasure of indulging your feederism tendencies - is worth the risk."

"Okay, sure. But you will have to obey me once we start. Having a dom feeder girlfriend doesn't mean you can eat whatever you want, whenever you want and put on however much weight you want." I reach out, grab your soft gut and firmly pull you toward me.

"Mmmm," you moan. "I like this kind of talk from you."

"Be quiet, sub. I am your dominant. And I am a feeder. I am in charge, so I determine what you eat, when you eat, how much you eat and ultimately how much weight you gain. How fat you grow is in my control."

"Oh my," you whisper, and I see by the bulge in your jeans that this is turning you on. You start to squirm and rub against me.

"Not so fast, big boy. We still have to a bit more to discuss."