Chapter 3 - The Holidays: Part 1

The Holidays: Part 1

Authors Note - Sorry for the long delay with this chapter (and with my writing in general). I always like to model my writing around what personally turns me on the most at a given time. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to prefer more realistic weight gains in the context of feeder/feedee relationships. I think it’s because I’ve realized that’s what I personally want with my potential long term partners, in which we both live completely normal and fulfilling lives outside of our shared feederism kink. With that being said, this holiday arc (2–3 chapters) will likely be the last sections of this particular story. I’ll make sure to give this fatty and her feeder the glutenous and embarrassing ending they deserve.

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As October came to a close and the stinging cold of winter began to set in, I began finalizing our trip to your parents house for the weekend of Thanksgiving. Originally our plans had been to fly into your hometown and rent a car for the week we’d be visiting your parents. But the closer we got to the holidays, the less that seemed like an ideal way of transporting you. First of all, there was literally no way you were going to be able to walk from the long term airport parking, to the ticketing counter, to the terminal train, through security, and then finally to the gate and onto the plane. That would be well over a half mile of walking, which was probably the cumulative total of your past 2 months of physical activity. Even if you leaned all of your weight on me like you do when we move you from couch to bed each night, your overfed body and weak fatty legs would collapse from exhaustion before even reaching the airport parking elevator. I considered getting you a reinforced wheelchair and disability assistance to get us through the airport, but even then you’d still have to stand up a dozen or so times throughout the trip. I couldn’t risk my feedee princess straining her mind or body like that. On top of that, I’d have to book you two seats on the plane to house your wide corpulent ass and overflowing belly. Plus I’d have to continue feeding you the all the excess tens of thousands of calories your body had grown accustomed to consuming each day. Doing that while getting you through the airport would be very difficult, especially with the airports limited food options.

We both eventually agreed that driving to your parents house would be the easiest and least stressful way of getting you there. My truck’s passenger seat was still large enough to comfortably seat and support your ever increasing obesity. Plus we could load up the truck bed with enough junk food to hopefully sneak past your parents to last you the week.

But overall I was most worried about the reaction your parents would have seeing you. They hadn’t seen you since Christmas of last year. At that time, we had been dating for a little over 2 months. You had probably gained around 40lbs under my influence so far. On your short small frame, that had been extremely noticeable to your parents and sister, as they berated you for the belly hang and double chin that had settled on your body. I remembered how you would FaceTime me several times a day, complaining about the comments your family kept making about your weight. You told me that you felt fat and that you wished you were back home with me. It took nearly 2 weeks of daily reassurance from me until you started to feel better about yourself. Granted all the fattening treats I kept feeding you helped a lot as well. Those hurtful comments were no match for the dopamine release of endless ice cream, belly rubs, and sexual intimacy. I absolutely loved telling (and showing) you how beautiful you were inside and out. But the last thing I wanted this year was your family exploding on you about your enormous weight gain. I mean, you had more than tripled your size since graduating high school around 2.5 years ago, with an overwhelming majority of that weight being gained over the past year of our relationship. I couldn’t even imagine the things they would say to you, nor did I want to think about how much that would hurt you. I decided it would be best to call your parents before we arrived to set some expectations and hopefully lessen the shock once they actually saw you. Besides, from the way you described me to them and the hand ful of times I had spoken on the phone with them, they seemed to like me.

On a Saturday evening, two days before we were set to make the drive to your parents house, I called your parents. I stood in the kitchen as the phone rang, peeping around the wall corner at you on the living room couch as you mindlessly gorged yourself on your 3rd XL meat lovers pizza of the day. I silently reassured myself that this phone call was necessary.

You let out a loud burp just as you father picked up the phone. I greeted him and your mom, apologizing for the background noise. After some playful back and forth exchanges, I told them that I needed to talk to them about you. Their tone suddenly became serious. I followed suit and began to explain to them that you have been going through a mentally rough patch in your life for the past couple months. You were having large mood swings and were overall very emotionally vulnerable right now. I explained that we were working through things with a licensed therapist and that you were starting to feel better about yourself in large part due to the constant positive reinforcement from myself and others in your life. Despite seemed concerned, they seemed grateful that I was helping you take the necessary steps to feel better. Finally I told them that I needed their help. I explained to them that as part of feeling down about yourself, that you had gained a significant amount of weight, but that the last thing that we needed to do was make negative or demeaning comments about it. I told them that doing so would only make matters worse for you and that we needed to be as supporting and caring for you as possible while we visited for thanksgiving and beyond. After a short pause, your parents agreed to hold their tongue around you and thanked me for both helping you through this and relaying that information to them. I lightened the conversation again with a few jokes before saying goodbye and that we were excited to see them in a few days.

As I hung up the phone, I came back into the living room to help you finish your food. Ever since the week of Halloween, you had begun eating several family sized bags of candy and chocolate every week on top of the other tens of thousands of excess calories you and I were cramming past your lips every day. 4 weeks of this had really started to cement how helplessly glutenous and sedentary I had enabled you to be. You now spent the day completely naked, only covering yourself with an oversized blanket when food was delivered while I was work. Even though I was dressing you, you began to complain that me doing so was too tiring. You reminded me that you hated physical activity and that you already had to put up with ‘walking’ to and from the bed and bathroom. I of course wanted you as pampered as possible and seeing you in your naked state gorging yourself all day every day was a dream come true. However, we were going to need clothes that fit you properly for thanksgiving at your parents house. After all, we were trying to hide 170+ pounds of weight gain from your parents. I picked up some 5x maternal sweat pants and 4x oversized hoodies for the job. Although they definitely didn’t hide your girth in the slightest, at-least the maternal sweats allowed for your growing belly to be tucked in as opposed to jiggling out the bottom of your tops. As you finished off the last few bits of your pizza and called for me to hand you one of the milkshakes on the table beside you, I began to wonder if that phone call would be enough.

I brought the large cookies and cream milk shake straw to your lips as I sat down besides you. You leaned your full weight into my chest and shoulder as you began to greedily inhale the thick fattening liquid. I reached my other hand around your backside, lightly grazing it across the thickened rolls that lined your back before stopping at your love handles. You repeatedly moaned unapologetically as I jiggled and groped the soft overflowing bulbs of blubber that hung off your hips. I could feel all the freshly forming stretch marks as I did so. As your pussy began to get wetter and wetter you slowly moved your thick legs farther apart, allowing for more and more of your belly to hang between them. It hung so low now. Even though you were sitting back into me on the couch with a good portion of your belly resting on the seat cushions under you, your pale white belly was starting to hang off the edge of the couch.

Your body was a work of art. It was completely riddled with long angry red stretch marks that ran intermittently all the way from your inner thighs, to your soft under belly, up to the curvature of your hanging belly, to your decadent love handles, and finally up your corpulent back rolls. They then resumed mid way up your back as they forked out to your breasts and upper arms. I brought a second milkshake to your lips as your hand reached for mine. My lips began to kiss their way down your soft neck and beyond. Your chins quivered as my lips met your breasts, teasing the centers of each with my tongue as you finished the last few drops of the second milkshake. As you beckoned for more, I grabbed the tray of milkshakes and took them to the bedroom. You wolfed down 2 large cookies in the 20 seconds I took to do so. When I came back, I carefully took both of your hands and hoisted your pale overfed body to its feet. The act of doing so made you out of breath. You immediately dumbed all of your weight onto me as I slowly waddled you to the bed room. I fed you another 4 large cookies as we walked. When we got closer to the bed, I pulled out my phone. The previous day I had installed a smart mattress, allowing me to view the weight of anyone atop it from my phone. As we labored closer, I zeroed the scale. This would be your first weigh in since we had first met 13 months ago. And now, after feeding millions of excess calories onto your tiny delicate frame, after assuming all of your responsibilities, and ensuring that you literally never had to lift a finger let alone your own body, we would see the results.

Once we were close enough, you crashed onto the bed from pure exhaustion. The bed groaned from the sudden increase in weight. I rolled you over and lifted each of your heavy lard filled legs onto the bed. As you caught your breath, I fed you another 4 cookies while I propped you up with soft pillows against the head board. Finally I stepped back and clicked the ‘measure’ button on the app. The scale jumped past 100, than 150, 200, 260, 330, 390. But to my honest surprise, it kept climbing slowly from there, past 400 and 410 before finally settling on 422 lbs.

Wow. Someone had gotten fat.

After what felt like a few minutes of silence and disbelief on my end, I was brought back to reality by the sounds of you finishing your third milkshake. I handed you the last milkshake, climbed onto the bed, lifted your belly, and began to eat you out. You were on cloud9, as was I imaging what that number might be after the upcoming week of thanksgiving.