pdt:
I'll add another one, because it's so fun to contribute to the thread.
I'm really into the idea, as a feedee, of getting in way over my head. Like, maybe I get married to a feeder under the pretense that she wants an immobile husband to keep to herself, but I don't realize what the details of her plan to get me there are.
Soon, I wake up and find myself tightly cuffed to our bed, where I'm informed by my lovely new wife that I have a tight schedule to catch up to. She begins pushing donuts into my mouth, while she explains,
"On paper, you're a stay at home husband, a homemaker. But here's how this is going to go, pig. You're going to spend some time on this bed, eating. It's going to be a lot of time. I'll take care of your hygiene and prevent you from getting bedsores. Think of it as a preview for when you're actually immobile. You only weigh 350 lbs right now, so keep eating."
She helps me drink from a travel mug of coffee that's clearly mixed with a heavy dose of bourbon.
"We'll keep you nice and loose, like this, it will help you eat more. I think you'll get your walking around and using the bathroom privileges back... oh... let's say when we've gotten your stomach capacity up to a gallon. And don't worry about the housekeeper stumbling in here, I've installed locks and soundproofed the room."
By the time I reach her goal, I've been drunk and in bed for like 2 months, just being stuffed constantly. My weight has surged something like 100 lbs, pure fat, and more than a few brain cells have gone dark from the alcohol. I struggle to waddle away from the bed- it's hard, and it hurts, my muscles have been atrophying this whole time. I just want to use the toilet and feel like I have some dignity again. Through the door, my feeder cloyingly asks if I'd like to get back into bed and have a nice meal. My head and heart both pounding, my legs and back on fire from the titanic effort of walking down the hall. I find myself suddenly aroused, as she's successfully merged my psychological concepts of sex and food through steady conditioning. With a dull sensation of dread, I realize that my one and only answer is, "Yes, please."
Oh good is lord that’s excellent!