chapter 7

** Mistress Jade **

There are many reasons why my campers have earned the name little piggies over the years. One of the biggest being this right here. No, not the bloat sessions per se, but the act of men of all ages, sizes, and types being so desperate to be fed, so sexually aroused by it, that they allow themselves to be strapped to funnels while food is forced into their mouths and bellies.

The complete and utter loss of willpower, the submission to the will of another, it is a beautiful thing, and half the reason Feeders even exist in the first place. The power it gives them, the control over another. Watching their feedees break, let go, and give themselves over to it. They get off on it, on a one-on-one basis of course.

Me, I get to watch dozens do it at a time and know that I am the reason for it. The thought of it, the sight of it in front of me now as I make my way from station to station during the final session for the week, has me squeezing my thighs together and fanning my face with my clipboard. I’ll have to do something about that later, but for now, I must stick to the task at hand.

The count has held strong at twenty. I’m pleased by this fact and by the campers progress. That is the other half of why Feeders exist, getting to watch as their feedees bodies change, as their bellies stretch and grow either temporarily or over time.

My little piggies are doing a bit of both thanks to their sessions and the volume of food being consumed by them on a daily basis. Most have gained around 5 pounds despite the daily exercise they are subjected to, some closer to 10. They are doing so comfortably of course. The inflation and bloating sessions help them ensure that.

It’s more than obvious that the majority prefer the bloating, or at least the fact that the tube is in their mouths this time instead of their asses. Flashes of their responses to last weeks sessions dance through my mind, and I can’t help but laugh as I begin taking notes …

DAN: Eyes open and nervous. Still displaying some panic as to funnel feeding. No sexual reaction, possibly due to the mental struggle. Bloating not for him. Rule out any Feeder that requires it.

MASON: The problem child. Eyes squeezed shut, strained expression. Death grip on the chair. Confused sexual reaction once again. Continued resistance to letting himself let go and enjoying the experience. May have issues submitting. Potential Feeder indications still reserved.

CHRIS: Blissful expression, eyes practically rolling back. Hands rubbing his belly slow and methodically. Surprising location for them given how hard his cock is and the way it is bouncing around with each swallow. Potential match for Feeder requiring bloating.

GABE: Eyes on me, relaxed. Confident in himself and his body, despite beginning to lose the muscles he clearly worked hard for. Sexually aroused, but unable to tell whether it is because of the bloating or me watching. Potential match for Feeder requiring sex and up for a challenge.

Thoughts of breaking this last one continue throughout the remainder of the session and as I settle into my office to await the parade of therapy sessions that will begin shorty. Finding myself still very much turned on and having a bit of free time on my hands, I decide to put them to good use.

Closing my eyes, I allow one to slide inside of my blouse and the other underneath my skirt. My fingers brush against the lace of my bra and panties, rubbing and pushing into what they find there. They alternate between slow and gentle teasing to a fast and rough pace as my mind drifts to my little piggies, to those resisting and those that have already let go and given in.

It doesn’t take long before I find myself doing the latter. Biting my lip, I pull on one of my hardened nipples, sending myself over the edge as the pace of my fingers against my clit picks up, drawing out my orgasm. When I open my eyes, I not only find myself shaking and breathing hard, but staring right into the eyes of a very smug Gabe.

“Don’t worry, I’d much rather be walking in on you jerking off than my roommate … for the hundredth time,” he says as he saunters in, removing his clothes, and taking his seat. I know exactly who his roommate is, and his words have me raising an eyebrow in question. Before I even get the chance to ask, he launches into a rant that has me laughing out loud by the time he is finished.

My thoughts turn to it over and over again as I wrap up my session with not only Gabe, but little piggie after little piggie. until the sweet, but apparently very naughty, Paul knocks on my door. After a repeat performance of last weeks awkward song and dance of getting him, and his tightly covered family jewels, inside, undressed, and settled onto the couch, I begin.

“You’ve made it two weeks and gained eight pounds so far, not counting your continued progress this week. I’m very proud of you and your progress. How do you feel things are going,” I ask. He fidgets a bit, but then takes a deep breath and offers a recap that is slightly more confident than the one from last week.

“It’s been going really well. The eating and exercise is getting easier. I liked the sessions this week … more than the ones last week. The guys and I have been getting along really well, I think we’ll keep in touch after this is over. I’ve been spending a lot of time …. Reflecting, on my experiences alone.” That last part nearly has me laughing out loud, but I manage to hold it in.

It takes everything in me, and my nails digging into my legs, to get through what comes next. “Speaking of the time you’ve spent … reflecting, your roommate has brought something to my attention … something he insists that I discuss with you,” I tell Paul, watching as his face and entire body turns bright red. “Do you know what I’m referring to,” I ask.

When he swallows hard and nods his head slowly I continue, refusing to take my eyes off his despite the fact that they are looking at everything and anything but me. “As I indicated at orientation, Feederism, and everything you researched before coming here, is a fetish. Something that turns you on sexually. You are here to explore that and are doing so, both through your sessions and your time … reflecting alone. There is nothing wrong with that Paul.”

While my words have him relaxing slightly, he still refuses to look at me. He also refuses to look at his cock which is clearly paying close attention to my words. “It is okay to be confused about it, even ashamed to some extent,” I push on. “In fact, degradation and humiliation are among the biggest turn-on’s feedees experience.”

"Things like me calling you a little piggy. Do you like that Paul,” I ask. His cock jumps hard, catching him by surprise, and his eyes finally meet mine for a second. “That’s what I thought, and don’t worry, you will be exploring that more during the second half of camp as well. For now, let’s just stick to the matters at hand, shall we?”

When he nods again, I offer up several suggestions for handling his re-occurring problem with his roommate, all the while continuing to resist the urge to laugh as he grows more uncomfortable with each word. Once I am satisfied that I have fulfilled Gabe’s request, I give poor little Paul a break and move on to his sessions for the week.

“Now that all of that is out of the way, how were your experiences with bloating this week” I ask. When he shuts down again, I push harder. “Earlier you said you liked the sessions, more so than the ones last week, is that true?” When that elicits yet another nod, I get up from desk, make my way over, and sit down on the coffee table in front of him.

“Eyes on me Paul,” I demand, watching as they not only do as they are told but grow wider as I push his legs apart, exposing all that he is trying to hide in order to accommodate my own more comfortably. “Rule number six … you will actively engage in our weekly therapy sessions and be open and honest with me about your physical, mental, and sexual well-being during them.”

“Do you want to go home Paul,” I ask. When he makes a move to shake his head no, I raise an eyebrow, and he quickly catches himself and responds, “no Mistress Jade.” Patting the hands he’s holding himself oh so tightly with, I give him a “good boy” then try once again. "What did you like about this weeks sessions?”

He swallows hard again, eyes focused on my hand still firmly placed on his as the words roll far too quickly out of his mouth, giving away far more than he likely intended. “I liked that it felt forced. Like I wasn’t in control of what was happening. And I liked how it felt knowing that I finished every time, that I was doing what I was supposed to when others weren’t.”

“I see, and are those things what you have been thinking about while … reflecting, alone,” I ask. His eyes once again jump to mine in surprise and he begins comically shaking his head yes and no at the same time. When I raise another eyebrow, he manages to stammer out, “sort of … Mistress Jade. That’s … part of it.”

“And the other part ….,” I push. It does me no good though. His face and body once again turn bright red as his eyes dart to the door and his legs begin to bounce on either side of mine. Accepting that we are done for the day, I put him out of his misery. “Okay, I’ll let it go …. for now. You are free to get dressed and return to your cabin,” I say as I rise and return to my desk.

As he does so, I can’t help but wonder what is going on in his head, both of them. The arousal related to his submission is obvious, the rest I’m unsure of. “I’ll figure you out my naughty little piggy, and what interests that cock of yours too,” I say out loud as he closes the door behind him and scurries off.