chapter 3

I walked through the crisp morning air with butterflies in my stomach, unable to appreciate the dawn sunrise that painted the landscape, my mind was on him. He opened the door shirtless, glistening, breath ragged probably from working out. He took in my nerves with a wry smile and ushered me in. He made me strip and then weighed me, he didn’t show me what it was but wrote it down. Then he made me pose for some pictures in my underwear. I was embarrassed you could see my cage through the boxers, he seemed to relish my discomfort. He told me he wanted to see how much progress I’d make in a month then sat me down and tied me up.
He was very deliberate when tying me up, leaning in, grazing my thigh, working me up, but he always saved the cage until last. He worked out in the mornings and his musk was overwhelming, I felt like I could smell it the rest of the day. It was intoxicating, feeling his skin against mine, that musky smell and his eyes that never left mine, I was completely at his mercy.
The first morning it was pancakes, I’d only seen stacks like that in movies and cartoons until he brought them out. He drizzled each pancake in maple syrup then fed me with one hand, gentle caressing my dick with the other. I still felt full from the last feeding, but he didn’t seem to care, I’d barely swallowed one forkful and he’d shove another in my mouth, occasionally wiping the maple syrup off my cheeks and calling me a messy pig. It was sickly sweet but if I ever refused he’d take me close to the edge and then stop, telling me I could always leave early if I didn’t want to cum. Somehow I always found the room to finish.
It became a routine, the only thing that changed was the food. He waited until I absolutely couldn’t eat anymore, sometimes waiting until I was struggling with the final mouthful to let me cum. I don’t know how I never choked or threw up. Only once he was through and I was back in my cage would he let me get dressed and give me a huge protein shaker full of the thickest sweetest tasting milkshake I’d ever had. He told me I had all day to finish it, but not to ruin my appetite before our evening session. He said he’d know if I didn’t finish, I could tell by the look on his face, and the ferocity in those deep blue eyes that he meant it.
It was always a struggle, I took to downing them at lunch, holding my nose. A few times I just couldn’t finish and tipped the last of it down the sink.
The evening were worse, he’d keep me there for longer, push me to my limit, keep me on edge then slowly start feeding me again, an extra morsel, an extra bite here, just a little bit of ice cream to finish off. Telling me I couldn’t cum until he said so. He’d keep me on the edge for what felt like hours, I was putty in his hands, and I knew exactly what he wanted to mould me into. “Tell me what you are” he’d always demand. “I’m a pig, your pig” I’d respond, pathetic, pleading for release. My stomach was always bulging as I left, I was so exhausted, I’d go straight to bed, not that I could sleep, I’d lie rubbing my stomach. Even with release twice a day, I still wasn’t used to not jerking off before bed, I’d just lie there thinking I only have to get through this month.
It sounds so bizarre but it didn’t take long for it to become routine, I don’t know if I was getting used to the aching stomach or it just wasn’t as bad as before. I was resigned to my fate but kept telling myself once the month was over I’d be done and I’d never have to see him again. But day after day he kept pushing me further, I’d never felt pleasure like it, he knew just what buttons to press, when to slow down, when to speed up and just when I couldn’t take anymore- he’d let me cum. The portion sizes seemed to grow, it was the second week where he ordered the same two large pizzas and I finished them both that I realised his plan for me was working.
My pants were starting to fit, I’d always had to use a belt because I was so tall and my waist was so thin that I could never find jeans that fit. Then one morning I went to put a pair of jeans on that had never been tight, and suddenly I couldn’t even button them up. That’s when I started to really notice the changes. Standing in front of the mirror, wobbling my stomach, it had never used to do that. Going down the stairs I could feel my stomach, my chest jiggle with every step. I wasn’t worried, I’d always been too skinny, I knew that, and once this month was over I’d go back to normal. Looking back, I couldn’t have been more wrong.