Chapter 1

There is a sort of folk-lore rhyme I was taught about as a child. It fleets to a mind still hazy from sleep as I peer, stretching tall on tip toes pressed to cold kitchen tiles, out through the low sunshine into the garden. The grass was glistening – natures winter glitter, calling the birds to the ground for meagre pickings.

Seven. I could hear their shrill chatter even from behind the glass. Seven hopping hues of green-blue, tails bobbing. “Seven: for a story never to be told,” I whisper with a deep breath – inhaling the smell of the strong black coffee, still too hot to drink.

Its only with the low, warm chuckle you give that alerts me to your presence. Always your obsequious lover, I find myself blushing at the sight of you, the dimples in my cheeks flexing as I bite a smile from my lips. I find I am tugging your shirt lower – conscious of its creeping retreat as I’ve stretched; catching width by width it has crept from mid-thigh.

I feel exposed as you pad towards me. Finding myself coy, stood here in your clothes and wrapped in arms, with your almost naked body pressed to mine. The combination of soft and hard the buldging below and above your breifs as you hold me to you seems to mould to me as I feel you cup my ass. Our bodies were meant to he together. Built to fit; with my buxom curves with a little waist and your abdominous, growing strength. I am Shy...
although I can still feel your warmth within me.

I find it all too easy to shut my eyes tight, as you turn me, so that your lips may meet mine and from there across my nose, my cheeks... my neck. There is no need to steal a kiss from this lover. They are given freely.

"What are you muttering?" Your voice is soft. Soothing. It's a kind amusement that pricks within it, but it's enough for me to meet your gaze with a dissimulate air of sternness. "Are you getting ready to tell me more stories?”

Arms wrap themselves around me, and I feel the sting of the fresh morning air leave disappear around me. I find myself reaching forwards, placing the cup in my hand down, for as sweet as the smell of morning coffee its you who I want to fill all of my senses with you. My keenness for you seems to make you smile all the more, and I am folding myself into you as you murmur in my ear, “You know what those words of yours do to me?"

My hands close on your hips. Its a reflexive movement, a squeeze of softness that I've spread to you. It's enough of an answer to inspire a further deluge of kisses. Flowing lower, and lower, as you undo the buttons so that you can continue to press your lips to skin until your face is almost buried deeply in my exposed breasts. The difference in our height means you have to stoop a little to press kisses to my collar bones. I can see your little belly hang softly forwards... this used to be flat, toned abs. I hold you there for a moment, cupping the back of your neck, as I find my voice.

"I... was watching the birds. Remembering a fairy tale of sorts, I was told when young." Its difficult to concentrate. The heat I feel is not the heat from your body. At least, not in a physical sense. It's a burning overspill of desire. I catch your chin so that you look up at me, " and three little words are all I need to encourage you."

"A fairy tale? Don't tell me, are you to be my Hansels witch? Feeding me up in our forest cabin?" You don't pull away from my touch. I’m still holding you, my hand cupping your face. This is an angle we both recognise.. although usually my firm hold is to catch your focus as I tease you to eat more. As if with the last breath I haven’t just been chastising for your being such a glutton. As if your belly isn’t aching already from fullness at the point that my words come. For now, I can feel your breath on my forearm.

" A moment on your lips, and days on my hips" I smile at your response. This softness is from more than a few days ago. How long has it been since we last really filled you up? Have we at last found our moment together? I never want you to eat mindlessly. Its not enough to fill you up. Its not enough for you to overeat a little. I need you to be overwhelmed by greed… to eat to please. And I need all of the hours to adore your body afterwards. I find myself pulsing for you.
"You," I command, "should be on your knees whilst you can for your feeder."
“My knees?” I am grasping the back of your head so that I can feel the little shudder of excitement that passes down you… from head to toes.
You can feel my words tickle your skin. Warm breath in cold morning air. “Your knees, to practise begging for me. At first to feed you… and then to…” I grip your stomach, making sure to push my pelvis to you as I do, standing on my tip toes so that I can feel your length throb for me, “To tease you for being a hog.”
My kisses deepen for you, biting, almost sucking on your lower lip as my tongue traces. I slip a hand down your tight waistband. Its more difficult than I remember as the elasticated waist struggles and strains. Now this won’t do for filling you up at all. I want to see you grow.”
I’m tugging them down, as your hands are unbuttoning the shirt of yours that I am wearing with difficulty. There is a chaotic keenness that passes between us. Both wanting the need and want to be as close as possible, but wanting all the more to be closer.
“My sweet forest witch,” you tug on my hair. “You are going to feed me up?”
In response I let my shirt fall from my shoulders to the floor, stood naked in front of you. My ardent lover, my body quivering for you in the cool morning air. I push you down… “You are going to eat for me. And you won’t stop. Until everything about you is bigger. Until you can feel its harder to sit up in bed, with the weight of a bowling ball in your middle, or more. When you feel your belly fill your lap as you kneel… When we leave this cabin, when I have finished making love to my bloated, overfed, hog I want you to take me for dinner. To slide into the booth in a shirt that is a little over right.” I run my hands down my body at this, taking a moment to caress the smooth, skin below the softness of my own stomach. Letting them disappear, right within your line of view… stopping dramatically with a gasp. Can you hear that? The little squish of want that leaves my lungs for you. The moist, warm hotness calling from inside me. You’re so close. I make you watch me play, pressing the other hand to your shoulder. Holding you close. “I want to feed you until I am sure that on our next time alone, before we make our way home – that as I reach beneath the table and pull your shirt up…you can feel air on that lower belly in public from my belly pushing my shirt out more. I want to see more belly every time I look down.” I stop here. Looking down. Making eye contact with you, knowing you are more and more aware of your own body as I describe my plans. “until you can’t suck it in. Tell me you’ll eat for me.”
You tell me. You beg for it. It truly is as if I am your witch. Casting my spell upon you until you are in a stupor of lust and gluttony. Until you very literally just can’t hold back, shovelling more and more calories into this tank. I tease until I hear the words I want…
“I will eat for you. I will stuff, and stuff even as the results turn me to your obese hog. Until I can't even suck it in anymore I'm so fat. There's just too much fat to make a difference now with this big full belly. No hiding my gluttony.” And with that… I press my fingers to your lips and you taste the first sweetness of this stuffing.

Have you ever entered the sea on warm summers day?

The sort of summer when you can feel the warmth across your shoulders as if the sunrays are stroking your skin and it tingles with a satisfied comfort as if working the stresses, aches and knots with gentle fingers. The sort of bright golden light that, even when you close your eyes and sit back in your sun chair, you can still see the brightness through your lids. Tilting your chin upwards and just squeezing your eyes from a soft, relaxed close enjoying the heat, to slowly opening. Peering at your dark lashes as slowly you let your self focus. Wider. Wider. Clear blue skies are all your view. The sort of warmth that just fills you up.

It is that type of heat that you can feel as a lingering happiness in your body. As much as an emotion, as a sensation that fills you with summer memories. Can you feel it as I describe it? Imagine the sensation of taking a deep breath as you push your feet into the sand. Heel, toe. Heel, toe. In, out. In, out.

From a soft white powder to the compact sand kissed by the waves - like the sweet creamy sugar you might add to cakes. A wonderful sensation. But one that you know that it's going to grow even sweeter. You know what's coming as you hear the waves rolling in. You may even feel your body tense, ready for the cooling sensation that is going to awaken all of your senses - drawing attention to parts of your body that you aren't remotely aware of right now. But knowing that you want it. That you're moving towards this pleasurable sensation.

A gasp as you enter. The shine of water on soft skin. Lapping. Slapping, higher and higher as you step forward. Goosebumps. Trembling - a gasp as your body suddenly awakens and you feel the shifting sensation of hot and cold at once. Another step. Gasp. And you're floating. You're floating and so deep into it that you can't even feel as you step. Feet that were pressed so firmly onto the ground, are now knees brought up by intuition, fingers furling and grasping as a response to sensation. The hot and the cold all at once rush around you. And your whole body just sort of gives into the response of sensations that you are so willingly overwhelmed by.
That's what a seeping arousal is like for me. Perhaps, attributed a little to far of a poetic license. But, those sensations that I have just tried to bring to mind, are ones that I feel spurt, in a sudden gushing stream for my lover. For the feelings, fantasies and desires.
This is what its like for me, as you kneel for me, as I feel the scratch of your beard, against my thighs with kisses pressed to soft skin. I should feel exposed in my nakedness, as I stand before you. Certainly, I can feel the cold air on my skin and its enough to make me shiver. I can see the greying-dimples that prickle across my breasts, the glisten of the morning sunlight on skin usually hidden from the world. But instead, I find that I am reaching down to take your head in my hand. I am holding you closer to me, setting course for where I want you to touch.

Its now that my heart thrums in my chest, but my ears are oddly clear. I'm listening to you. For you. Enjoying your reactions to funding my body soften. Your hands squeezing the hard muscle at the back of my calves as they trace upwards in prolonged, tender strokes as you rise up with lips to the soft inners of my thighs. Anticipating that moment of pleasure as you...
I catch you looking up at me. And for a moment we pause, as I reach down to trace my fingers around your lips, as I place one to your lips, your tongue, with you still holding me to you. I don't need to tell you what I am thinking of but I know in that moment, without words, our thoughts are concordant. Another wave of satisfaction courses through me that you too feel the eddied path of our desires. I don’t need to try to explain myself to you.
My eyes fall to your belly. That’s where my thoughts are. Its not hard - not yet. As you have knelt, between my bare feet, your belly has surged forward. There is a small, squish of a lower layer of fat. An area of your front that almost retains some roundness, but mostly at your lower belly. It's a sort of protrusion that seems to press around the area of your belly button, hanging forward as if to invite a soft cheek pressed there amongst kisses. It’s a little protrusion that when you turn to the side and breathe out as you sometimes so to show off where you can catch it in handfuls and shake up and down. Is it strange for you to feel this skin here – stretched, and thicker in fat, where once there was abs. A little lingering resemblance of how you are when full - when you grow wide and spherical. But, lower. It doesn't press out from beneath your chest as it does when full. Fatter... but it makes me think of you full. And here our begins our intumesce of indulgence.
I adore your body - whatever the circumference of your waist. There is something about the way in which you can make me feel so wholly satisfied and understood that defies any description that I can do justice. I just feel like you get me – one held moment of your gaze and I am seen, and lost all at once. Pulling out parts of you and me that I don’t think we truly let anyone else see. I adore you. Full, or fat, or thin. I really, truly do. But, knowing you so intimately just seems to intensify that.
From full to fat, and then the craving to be filled once more. Just how can you swell? Hungry to horny, teased by your body and the thoughts of you growing bigger. But, drawn, always towards the fullness. It's like somehow - regardless of how full that you grow, it's never enough. Finding the new limits and constraints for your greed.

I can see its impact on you now. Sat below me like this, onto your lap folds a small love handle. A swell of softness onto your thighs. There isn't enough to roll yet. Your body is still smooth and strong just.. soft.

Well, almost everywhere. I can see the edge of your length pressing from beneath your belly - further out than your new girth. I'm sure had you not been absorbed in admiring my body, you may have noticed... although I am sure you can feel. Are you aware of the way your body jostled and jiggles? Do you feel... big? I know you do when you're full. When you bring a hand far back, out to the side, and cup your gut. Slapping so you moan. Testing just how drum like you are. You feel it then.
You feel it then. In so many ways - more than just the ache from eating. The heavy, bearing of swollen movement. A tingling as your skin stretches, prickling and itching. I want to tease you for your greed then.

Can you feel it like this? When you're empty... but so... substantial in comparison to the slim stuffer you were.