Chapter 1

“Did you enjoy your dinner?” she asked.

“Mm-hmm.” I had just finished off dessert and was feeling quite full and content. Not stuffed, though. I didn’t really like feeling too stuffed. This was just right.

“I’m glad. I do love seeing a woman enjoy a good meal. I’ll never get tired of watching women eat. The open, receptive mouth being gratified with food, over and over. Of course, it’s even better when it’s something fattening being eaten by a fat woman,” she said, glancing down at my chubby tummy. I doubted I was big enough to be truly considered fat, but it wasn’t too far away. Another twenty, thirty pounds, maybe, and I would probably cross the border into real fatness. I suspected, based on our conversations, that when she was looking at my belly she was imagining what it might become. It was a new, strange feeling to be looked at like that. Not a bad feeling, but strange.

“But,” she added with a sly smile, “you’d have probably enjoyed dinner better if you’d been tied to that chair. Isn’t that right?”

I giggled and looked away, blushing. The chair’s arms had suddenly taken on a new aspect.

Her smile faded a little. Her face was still warm, but more serious. “I could do that, you know. I’d be only too happy to tie you to a chair at the table every evening. Make sure you wouldn’t be going anywhere until you finished your plate, even if you were totally cooperative and tying you there wasn’t even necessary, even for just a light, little meal. Just to make sure. I wouldn’t get bored of doing it, I can assure you that.”

I was still blushing. “I don’t know, maybe,” I said, trying to sound coy, and immediately winced inwardly at the ridiculous understatement. I had such a hard time expressing my excitement, especially when I was feeling embarrassed. I always ended up downplaying my enthusiasm for a thing to the point I risked making the other person think I wasn’t interested at all. The truth was that I could easily see myself plopping down in the chair with a smile and patiently waiting until I was bound there before digging in. I hoped she could see through my awkwardness.

“I wonder how long it would take until you couldn’t feel entirely comfortable eating at the table as long as you were still free to stand up and walk away whenever you wanted,” she mused.

I forced myself to make eye contact. “We could find out?” That made her grin, and I was glad.

“So,” she said brightly, “I’ve cooked for you. You ate it. Does this officially make me your feeder now?”

I giggled and looked down, playing with my fingers. “I guess it does.”

In truth, during our many online conversations and couple of real-life meetings, we had already talked about this and had decided to try out this kind of relationship. For a while, anyway. Just to see how it went. I wasn’t yet sure just how far I wanted to go with all this. With her. I wanted to get try getting fatter on purpose for someone else, but I didn’t know how much. I was very hesitant. I still didn’t know just how I would react when I started to gain more than a few pounds, when it started to become really real. It was possible I might panic and change my mind.

“Then let me hear it,” she said.

“You’re my feeder,” I told her.

Her grin was huge. “You’re gonna get fat,” she said, then added in a Ring-Around-The-Rosies sort of sing-song, “I’m gonna make you faa-aat.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe a little.”

Then she said with a soft intensity, “Seriously. I’m going to absolutely ruin your figure.”

“Ruin it?” I asked, my heart beating faster.

“Beyond all repair, sweetie,” she said. “And you’ll help me do it.”

Her words, her tone, they hit me hard and I was suddenly light-headed with excitement tinged with fear. Butterflies in my stomach. I wanted that so much, but I was scared of it, too. I had to keep a level head and make sure she understood where I was coming from. I didn’t want to misrepresent myself. “I... that is, I’m interested... a lot,” I stammered. I rolled my eyes. Level head, my ass. “I mean it sounds awesome at the moment. I just don’t know how much I can–”

She waved her hand dismissively. “How long you’ll be able to commit to it all. I know. You’ve told me. You have your misgivings, but I have every confidence you’ll end up very fat, sooner or later. It’s what you need. But there’s no reason to be worried. What, did you think my plan was to make you gain as much weight as possible, as fast as possible?”

I was a little surprised. “I... well, yes. I kinda did.”

She grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t complain if it happened that way. That’s not really what I want for you, though. I don’t think you’re completely ready for that, anyway. Oh, sure, I plan to get you to put on some quick pounds at the outset. Not a ton. Just enough to soften you up some more, make you look different, feel different. Ten pounds? Twenty? Think that would be enough to outgrow most of your current wardrobe? We’ll see. Enough to make sure you can’t hide the fact you’ve gotten fatter.”

I was relieved to hear that. She had been keeping her goals for me a little vague. I had been afraid that, when it came down to it, she would want me to commit to gaining a hundred or more pounds. I didn’t think that would be a commitment I could keep and then I’d feel like a liar if I backed out. Smaller amounts were easier to wrap my mind around. And it’d be easier to undo if it turned out I didn’t like it.

“Besides, we need to put a few new stretchmarks on that belly! It’s far too smooth.”

I smiled nervously. She knew stretchmarks – their irritation, their permanency – were among the things that might make me freak out and stop, just as I knew they were something that turned her on.

“Just a couple. You need to learn to live with them. It’s just something that comes with being fat. If I had my way, I’d see your belly and sides covered with pretty pink stripes, all angry and itching. But, hey, you might get lucky and not get any at all. Some people don’t,” she said, unconvincingly. “Just be aware that that’s just for starters. You’re going to keep growing, even if it’s slowly. By this time next year I’d love to see you turning all soft and flabby, see your face rounding out, and having a squishy tummy that’s doubling over and starting to hang. A brand new fat apron in the making.”

My breath shuddered as I imagined myself like that. It was exciting, I couldn’t deny it. Scary but exciting.

“Yeah, I thought you’d like that. Anyway, once you’re a little bit heavier, then we can slow down, let you adjust and take it easy. We can focus on the bigger picture.”