chapter 5

We were inseparable for the next two weeks. I saw her every night. Fancy dinners got expensive, so we had lower key dates at her place or mine. We’d order take out or make big portions of pasta.

I brought her new treats every day; different pies, cakes, cupcakes or chocolates from different bakeries.

“You spoil me,” she would say, the surprise and joy never diminishing with each new treat.

We slept in the same bed every night, but she wanted to wait for sex. She eased my frustration with hand jobs or blow jobs. They were fantastic, but I still longed to feel her on me was we fucked.

“Trust me, I want it as badly as you do. Maybe even more. But I think we should wait just a little longer. I’ll make you a deal. When my clothes stop fitting, you can fuck me.”

“What?” I asked, my mouth agape.

“Let’s be real, I’ve been eating like crazy recently. I can feel myself gaining weight. There’s no way I’m not gaining weight. Pretty soon my clothes won’t fit. That makes me a little concerned, a little nervous. But I’m enjoying this way too much to stop. I’ve been reading a bunch online about feederism and, while I wouldn’t consider myself a ‘feedee’ per se, I do love how you look at me. And I do love eating whatever I want. So I think if we can make a sexy game out of this, I might feel a bit better about the whole thing. Then, instead of getting in my head and sulking when my pants stop fitting, it’ll be a cause for celebration and we can fuck our brains out.”

She pulled me close and placed my hand on her stomach.

“Do you like how much softer it’s feeling as I gain?” she whispered.

“Uh huh…” I said, so aroused that I could barely speak.

…

The next Saturday, I noticed her struggle to button her pants. “Ugh,” she exclaimed. “So tight!”

“Is today the day!” I said.

She struggled a bit more before finally buttoning them. She pulled a shirt over them that looked ridiculously tight. Her stomach was creased in two by the tightness of her clothes — her soft fat pushing against her pants and shirt. 

“Looks like you’ll need to feed me more treats. They still fit. We should get going if we still want to go to the zoo.”

“Are you really going to go out like that?”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Oh nothing, it’s just…”

“So my clothes are a little tight. I’m not wiling to call it yet. We’ve known each other for almost two and a half weeks and my clothes still fit. I don’t know how you even call yourself a feeder,” she teased.

“I like a challenge,” I said.

I went into the kitchen and started making a big breakfast.

“We’re going to be late if we want to meet my friends for lunch before the zoo.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll cook quickly. You laid down the gauntlet earlier. I’m gonna stuff you silly today,” I said.

I made a huge plate of buttery scrambled eggs, biscuits, waffles, bacon and sausage. She scarfed down the food and we dashed out the door for lunch.