chapter 1

We were each others worst enemies and each others best friends. Coming into this relationship, I was a hot, stacked slim and trim woman with a lust for life. He was a slightly chubby nerd with a dark streak to match mine.

We are what can only be described as a feeder and a feedee. I was the feedee and he was the feeder. Both of us were uninitiated into the world of feeding for anything further than online role-play.

We didn't think that we really wanted this in the real world as there were so many complications. But our fantasies ran dark. In our fits of passion we'd typed about nothing less than overwhelming this body of mine with sweet heavy blubber until I could barely breathe, let alone move. Feeding me to my limit.

We'd started hanging out in real life as we were just a few miles down the road from each other and got along quite well. In our first encounter alone we were like a couple of horny teenagers, talking about our fantasies and unsurprisingly, me eating a box of doughnut he'd brought.

We soon got into the habit of meeting up, me snacking on treats and eventually, us pleasuring each other. After a few weeks of this we went the whole way. It was a night of stuffing and mindless sex, both giving ourselves to our carnal instincts. When we came to our senses we realised there was food mess everywhere and my covers were ruined.

More often we'd meet up and I'd end up stuffed to the gills and fucked senseless. We were like moths to a flame. My stomach was now constantly bloated from my reckless, forced overindulgence. soon enough that near constant bloat began to soften. A thin gathering of fat was appearing from our sessions that would threaten to obscure my toned form if I let it continue.

We discussed how we should try and reduce our bad habits but when it came to actually exploring the change and seeing how we felt, it served to only make us hornier and concurrently, me eat even more. And so my permanent bloat started to turn into a pot belly with growing softness there.

We couldn't seem to get any ounce of control over our urges and were spending more of each day together indulging them. Soon my backside, thighs and hips started to get in on the action as my clothes struggled to accommodate them. My thighs started to jiggle and my hips were no longer bony with the start of muffin tops appearing. The wall to wall mirrors in my bedroom had also begun to conspire against me. Just seeing my rounder face, stuffed full of food, being fucked and fed helplessly reflected back to me was an incredible turn on.

I was losing it. My body was now turning flabby and softening all over. The thing we'd fantasized about for so long was pushing itself into reality. We'd orgasm and swear we were gonna try and resist then end up doing it again a few hours later. My belly was actually becoming grab-able with flab as we lived out our deepest desires.

The fat itself was such a powerful aphrodisiac we'd both grope and fondle it as I gorged and we fucked. seeing that I was continuing to get fatter only served to increase the amount we gave into our desires. My soft bits were now finally linking together as my whole body began to take on a new shape. I was becoming chubby!

Feeling the fat on my body when I went about my day to day life was shocking for me. I was embarrassed at the body I now had. That shame quickly turned to arousal when we were back together again. I quickly started to look full blown chubby and I didn't really care. Seeing my chubby body in the mirror tied up and stuffed satisfied me in a way nothing ever had before.

Seeing my belly bounce up and down with increasing size was completely intoxicating. My face now sported a double chin, if only a small one. I knew there was no sense in it, but the fatter I looked, the fatter we both wanted me to get. He'd feed me to the point of bursting and I'd love every moment. We were fast becoming addicts to this new lifestyle.

As our first year together passed, my chubby body quickly started to take on more size and heft as I headed towards outright fat. I could barely believe it was my own body. The skinny me buried under a flabby body that wobbled everywhere I walked. Feeling my blubbery thighs rubbing and my soft fat bouncing as I walked turned me on immensely.

I'd get home almost too horny to think, ready for my feast. I knew I was slipping, losing myself to my fantasy, but I had no idea how to stop what we'd started. In no time I was a full on fatty, the skinny me now lost never to be seen again. My whole body was soft and yielding with fat. I now had a proper double chin and round, chubby cheeks.

Another day, another feast. He was now growing more demanding in the bedroom and I loved it. Tying me up, pumping me full was a regular occurrence. I now avoided most forms of exercise besides sex when we were home. He brought me everything now. I'd just lie back and let him feed me which would invariably end up with us fucking.

As fat as I now looked, I was eating more than ever. I couldn't believe a belly as fat as mine could ever be full again. Yet, almost every night, I was stuffed to near bursting point. I felt like I was being push apart with food but couldn't bring myself to stop. My weight continued to grow with no signs of slowing or stopping.

As our second year came to a close. fat gave way to obese with morbidly obese soon following. I'd lie there looking in the mirror at my billowing haunches pushed apart by my large soft belly. I'd play with my soft body and grope my fat face, amazed that this was my body now. Just shaking my flab would leave me too horny to think straight. Part of me would silently panic that I'd let it go this far, that I was a disgusting fat mess, then he'd wheel the cart of food in and it would be long forgotten.

By our third year together, he started to have to lift my tummy up to get to me. Rather than scare me, this only served to arouse me more. We were both spell bound with feeling every roll and bulge of flab. My whole body was now a playground of soft adipose. He began to alternatively put his manhood into my belly button as he stuffed me. Just thinking about my plight shocked and aroused me.

Here I was, stuffed full of food, my boyfriend fucking my belly button because my belly was blocking access to my vagina, This should have been a wake up call to me, but instead I just sank deeper into it, into my desires. And sink I did. The weight packed on relentlessly and I did nothing to stop it, happy to let it continue unchallenged.

4 years in and deeper into morbid obesity I drifted, my body filling out to seemingly obscene proportions. My fitness was shot so lumbering my ever increasing body around proved ever harder. I'd spend more of each day reclined on the bed, watching my reflection mindlessly gorge and him then mercilessly stuff me. It was hard to believe in just a few short years I'd become this fleshy expanse.

It turned me on so much feeling the fat restricting me in less subtle ways. As it packed in around me, waddling from place to place became more challenging. My whole body was working to weigh me down. I knew I should be appalled that the person I saw reflected back didn't look like the old me anymore besides the eyes.

Five years in and the thought that my fat body was overwhelming me served only to make me greedier still. I'd feverishly wonder if this stuffing was going to be the one that pushed me over the edge, that separated me from my mobile self. I knew it was an awful thing to get excited about but couldn't help my nature betraying any semblance of common sense.

I'd purposely lie around doing nothing, to weaken my muscles and speed up the process. Bigger and wider I grew and I did barely any exercise to counter the thousands of calories I consumed daily. Feeling it wedging into my body, constricting me had become the only thing I wanted to feel. I was truly a victim of our fetish.

By our sixth year together, my body got so big I could barely rise out of the bed each morning. I couldn't describe the arousal I felt knowing I was on the knifes edge. Just few more pounds and I'd have truly let this fetish ruin any chance I had of backing out. Not that I really believed I could. I was too horny and he was too insistent. Feeling my knees aching from all the weight crushing down on them was deeply disturbing, yet I didn't stop. Pound by pound the struggle started too become too much. Rather than fight it, I did less and less so I got weaker and weaker.

The day came and there was simply to much yielding, rolls of fat to allow me to get up from the bed. Every soft part of my body was too big, too cumbersome and too heavy to maneuver to the side of the bed. Staring at the mass of flab and folds in the mirror was a horror to see but arousing in a order of magnitudes.

I didn't stop there, couldn't stop there. As scary as it was, we both knew that I wanted to truly feel how big and helpless I could become. In no time I got used to lying there on my widening back, propped up slightly with pillows. I wanted there to be no chance of ever moving again. I now took all my meals through a funnel.

By seven years I purposely stopped using my arms so they'd atrophy from lack of use. I wanted to feel my life reduced to nothing except eating and growing. the fat started to really pack onto me as the months passed. He soon had to introduce oxygen to help me breathe after a heavy stuffing. More food, more weight gain, increased helplessness. My body was really starting to spread across the bed. After six month lying idle at my side, I tried to lift my huge, swollen arms. I could barely move them to my to my face, my muscles were so weak and they were so heavy.