Chapter 15 - not a chapter, and maybe the end?

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Hi, all. It's been nearly a year since I updated the story, and I figured that I owed you an explanation.

I could blame work. Evan and I share the same profession, which is s "a pie-eating contest where the only reward is more pie," but where the pie is baked from responsibility, work, and a soupçon of stress. Without getting into too much detail, I asked for more "pie," and the last half year has been me desperately trying to not reenact that scene from *Stand By Me.*

But blaming work itself would be disingenuous. I also think I scared myself. Some backstory of EpicureanTaurus for context; I've harbored this kink as long as I can remember, but I never gave myself permission to *act* on it. Last year, I did. And I went whole hog. (pun intended). I started a tumblr, gained nearly 40 pounds in a month and a half, and opened myself up to this wonderful community. I couldn't think about anything else.

Which is fine for a story, of course. But in real life, where I have a life partner who understands (but doesn't share) this kink, I had to nurture all sides of myself. Not just the kinky side. I felt that I was losing my identity to being that "totally-committed-feedee-who-is-both-trying- to-write-and-live-the-best-weight-gain-fiction.&qu ot; And then came the health problems, both mentally and physically. So I took a step back.

And let's not kid ourselves. This isn't the best piece of weight-gain fiction, either. I wrote myself into this story, and then wrote myself into a corner. Evan is (unsurprisingly) a self-insert, and the situation was a fantasy that I had many years ago. Hollow fantasy, however, doesn't make for empathetic characters.

I first got writer's block after Evan finds out that Amy's his feeder. My method for writing Evan was, naively, to ask myself how I'd react in that situation. I got a piece of feedback from a person in the community who I truly value, asking me how Evan could ever trust Amy after that. I couldn't justify it. If I was being true to the source, I should've ended it there.

But, greedily, I wanted more. I pushed past what felt right, and flung myself at what felt good. Art imitating life, which was imitating art. (If you could call it art.)

It got to the point where I couldn't figure out what Evan would do. He had grown apart from me. If I was Evan, Evan would've been mortified when he found out Ms. X was Amy, and never would have talked about it again. And if he had, he would've stood up for himself. The Evan I ended up writing, however, was a passive observer in his own life.

I believe that weight-gain fiction should also be good fiction. And after that point, I couldn't see this as good fiction anymore. (Nota bene: if you're hankering for some GOOD-ass writing, or just some good-ass friends, look up stevita or chrissmithyd. Both of them were major influences to my journey, and without them, I would've lost myself far FAR sooner.)

So, perhaps unfairly to the readers, I left you on tenterhooks. And I apologize for that. Hopefully (when inspiration strikes again), I can write something better. Something truer.

Until then, I hope you enjoy the story as written. Take comfort in the fact that, for the most part, I loved writing it. I'm now much fatter, much happier, and a little wiser. Thanks for reading, and thanks for your support.

- EpTau