chapter 7

In the aftermath of Eric's restless night, and many others like it, Eric tried as best he could to rein in his fantasies. In truth, this was but another repetition in what had proved a long cycle of departures and returns to the fetish for Eric. Eric had gained small amounts of weight from time to time in years prior, either unintentionally or when trying to "bulk up" at gym. Eric prided himself on his resolve, each time redoubling his efforts to return to a Spartan lifestyle of strict diet and exercise. Undeniably, however, this instance was distinct. Eric's most recent attempt at weight loss proved anything but an effortless transition as the cravings became unbearable.

Still, Eric's abstention from late night binging combined with the lean meals his wife insisted upon 'had the scale headed in the right direction," as Stephanie put it. She was pleased to see her husband squeezing into jeans he'd previously retired. Eric would tell Stephanie he was down ten pounds, much to her approval. Granted, Eric was rounding up with his estimate, but if Stephanie was happy, he certainly wasn't going to clarify. Not that such clarification meant much anyway. Eric's "right direction" was minimal progress, at best. Although the button fastened, the aforementioned jeans still clasped tightly against Eric's love handles, which spilled over to form a prominent muffin top.

To say that Eric's life was back to normal otherwise would amount to an even greater overstatement. Eric quickly learned one could choose to walk away from the fetish, but that didn't mean the fetish chose to walk away from you. The hunger pangs began to manifest as Eric adjusted to smaller portions at fewer intervals, but it was more than that. Eric needed to gain. He needed to feel the thrill and, to a certain extent, the shame he felt as he gazed down at a scale pointing to new heights. Eric desperately longed for the sweet release that only his feeder could provide after forcing a bloated and distended belly upon him. A release Stephanie couldn't even comprehend, let alone satisfy.

The hot summer night proved no exception. Lying awake, catching up on a piece of fiction Eric had long set aside, Stephanie emerged from the master bathroom and came to bed. One might've wondered how one could have spent so long primping just to go to bed, but with but a glance Eric surmised Stephanie's intentions weren't necessarily geared towards sleep. Barefoot in a deep purple nightie, Stephanie crawled into the bed beside Eric. Her makeup was pristine as always; as was the back of her hair neatly done up in a bun and paired opposite straightened bangs that drooped down towards hazel eyes.

'She really was beautiful,' Eric reflected to himself.

Despite Eric's sincere appreciation for her appearance, Eric felt...well...not much of anything. Objectively, he knew he should feel excitement, arousal, something. Instead, Eric found himself going through the motions: his hands meeting her hands, his lips meeting her lips. Yet still, nothing.

Stephanie could sense something was amiss. "Is something wrong?"

"No! No! It's just...I don't know. Hard day at the office, I guess. I'm just not in the mood."

While it truthfully had been a strenuous day, his response was a lie. Eric knew perfectly well why he wasn't in the mood. Had Stephanie entered with an overflowing platter of cupcakes, Eric might have pounced Stephanie on the spot. Instead, it had been day after day of grilled vegetables, stevia in place of sugar, and Stephanie's favorite: homemade quinoa salad. Excellent choices, if one had signed up for weight watchers. Yet to one whose sex drive now hinged upon gaining weight, Stephanie's selections left much to be desired.

It had been the same unrelenting desire that led Eric to his virtual feeder, the Mississippi Queen. Her attention had sated Eric's fetish, yet still left him conflicted. It scratched an itch he could not scratch alone, or with his wife. Justifications that it was only online chatting aside, though, Eric knew it was dishonest. This deeply rooted conflict, combined with his unresolved issues concerning the fetish more generally, had led Eric to ignore the Mississippi Queen's messages as of late. The weight gain shake recipes, the instructions that he order an extra bacon cheeseburger during his lunch hour; all went unanswered in Eric's Feabie inbox. Eric hoped his present course might ease his conscience, but if anything, he only felt more guilt for "ghosting" his would be feeder. All too often where his kink was concerned, Eric found, you were damned if you and damned if you don't.

More than ever, though, Eric's thoughts lingered with Dr. Thrace. Eric never found the cure he initially sought during his sessions with Dr. Thrace, but he had found something more valuable in many respects. Eric discovered both peace and acceptance, or at least a taste of the pair. For the first time in a long time, Eric felt almost normal when he was in her presence. Putting his fetish out in the open, looking another in the eye, and speaking of forbidden thoughts and feelings brought unprecedented relief. Eric dismissed the butterflies in his stomach while in her presence as a crush, at first. Later, he did own research online and chalked it up as "transference," a psychological dynamic in which a patient transfers unresolved wishes upon their therapist, but Eric often wondered if it was more than that. Did he have feelings for Dr. Thrace? She was hardly discouraging Eric from gaining weight. Could it have been something more? Could she herself have been a feeder?

The answer to these questions seemed far less pressing as of late, as Eric had "ghosted" Dr. Thrace just as he had the Mississippi Queen. Stephanie had repeatedly observed in the past that Eric's fetish grew stronger the longer he spent with Dr. Thrace. Stephanie's observation was not inaccurate and Eric cited it as the reason he stopped attending Dr. Thrace's sessions. In reality, though, it was far more complicated. Although Eric and Dr. Thrace's relationship was purely platonic on its face, Eric's time with and thoughts of Dr. Thrace made him feel even worse than his online chats with the Mississippi Queen. Although the latter was a form of infidelity to be sure, it was solely the byproduct of his fetish. Eric's feelings for Dr. Thrace were a different animal entirely. It was not physical, but emotional infidelity, which, in many respects, Eric considered far worse.

Eric grappled with these issues on the long, quiet, trafficked commutes to-and-from work. This was the case even more so as of late, following Eric's most recent awkward evening with Stephanie. Deep in thought, Eric's mind snapped back to the present at the sight of an unfamiliar SUV parked in his home's driveway. A jealous husband may have jumped to all sorts of adulterous conclusions, but Eric knew that wasn't in Stephanie's character. It would've been easier for Eric's conscience, if it were.

Turning the knob and stepping in from the blistering heat, Eric found his wife and an unfamiliar face greeting him from inside.