Chapter 1- Its just a Fantasy

Hey there! My name is Eliza. This is my story. The story of how my little world got turned upside down. Here’s some background on me. Il save you all the gritty little details. I am just a typical girl from Jacksonville, Florida. I have a pretty typical life. Im just a 24 year old girl with a boring job that doesn’t pay me enough. Maybe one day il meet a wealthy prince who can rescue me from this tragically ordinary existence , but who am I to get my hopes up. Despite my normal life, there is one section of my life that is abnormal. I have a weird fetish. I am what you call a feedee. This means that according to most of society I am just a freak who gets off on the thought of my body expanding out of my control. I always tried to dampen this part of me to fit in with the world. But it always returns. Ever since I was a little girl I would stuff my shirt with pillows pretending to be fat. I was truly born this way. Puberty was when the fetish really started to implant itself in me. I loved the feeling of my breast developing and fat depositing itself onto my body to accentuate my feminine curves. I remained quite thin in high school. But I missed the feeling of an expanding body. My fetish combined with the stress of my early 20s is what led me to look like I do today. I have beautiful tan skin, kissed by the Floridian sun. Beautiful brown eyes and dark brown hair to complement it. Only problem is I stand at 170 pounds, which leave quite a squishy little pouch of a belly hanging over my pants. This weight looks heavily concentrated on my body, since I am only 5 foot 3 inches. Enough about my looks and my backstory…Lets talk about how I got myself into some trouble.

Part of the issue with being a feedee is finding a feeder. I scoured across the internet trying to understand what was wrong with me. My google search history including phrases like “ why am I turned on by the idea of getting fat” and “how to tell a boy to feed me”. This led me to a website called Fantasy Feeder. This is where I learned all about my fetish and how there are so many others like me. I created an account, my username being SweetEliza. Im not willing to give up my real identity to everyone on the website just yet. I quickly became addicted to the site. I would proudly post pictures of my chunky little exposed tummy for all to see. But what really interested me was the stories. This website allowed users to write erotic stories about the weight gain fantasies. I found myself sucked in. No matter whether I was at work, or home, or out with friends all I would want to do is login to the site and have a good read. My favorite activity at the end of a long day is to lock my bedroom door, light a scented yankee candle, and grab a box of Twinkies. It always starts with me reading a story about a feedee gaining weight, then it leads to me stuffing myself silly, followed by my hand ending up in my pants. A shameful humiliating cycle but I simply cannot stop myself. It was this particular activity that sent my life journey traveling in a different direction.

It was thanksgiving. And I will save you the details but I went all in. Turkey, gravy, potatoes, stuffing. It didn’t stop there. Pumpkin pie, chocolate cream pie, cannolis. My family made way too much food per usual, and kept encouraging me to overdo it. Well it worked. I couldn’t control myself and overdid it. Soda after soda to wash down all the fattening homemade dishes kept building up in my stomach, inflating me like a Macys parade float. I felt like a damn stuffed turkey. I could feel my stomach tight as a drum. I walked over to the couch and popped open the button on my beige dress pants…in front of everyone. I rubbed my tender tummy, releasing a few small burps and desperately trying to supress the urge to moan. I hate to admit that I am getting turned on by how stuffed I am while my family is in the room. I know if I take one more bite I will be damp down there. I got to get out of here and head to my room. I stand up to leave and my grandmother says “Eliza where are you going sweetie. You need another slice of my homemade pumpkin pie!”. I desperately search for an excuse….”uhh grandma I really can’t look how full I am”. I life my shirt, exposing the evidence of what a pig I have been. My mother injects herself into the conversation…completely unwarranted. “I know you love your grandmothers pie. And she worked so hard to make it for you. We have no space in the fridge for leftovers you can make room. Sit back down at the table and don’t you dare leave until you are finished.”….Its not worth the drama. I waddle to the table and my mother places a massive slice infront of me. Almost half the damn pie. Completely smothered in 3 inches of whipped cream of course. A good feedee never denies food, so here goes nothing. Maybe If I eat it really quickly it won’t hurt too much. I ask for a large spoon and start shoveling. Each bite sends a wave of euphoria through my body. It starts with the sugary blast of flavor on my tastebuds and then turns to a tingling sensation in my lady regions. Eating is always a sexual experience for a feedee. Its a good thing no-one in the food really notices how much I am enjoying it. I continue to shovel and fight thru the pain….I can’t take it anymore. I lean back in submission. Too hands on my gut. I am about to explode!. There’s still a few bites on my plate. I seek mercy, asking my grandmother “can I leave now I am really stuffed and have a tummy ache.” My grandmother picks up the spoon, and says “let me feed you like I used to when you were a baby. Choo Choo here’s come the train” she makes a whole show out of bringing the spoon to my mouth and I submissively accept the bite. I can’t wait for this to end I’m reaching the point where the embarrassment and the pain is getting on my nerves.

I finally storm off to my bedroom. Each step shaking the contents of my stomach so I feel uneasy. I lock the door and pull down my pant zipper without hesitation. Good lord did I need that pressure released. I need to get these stupid tight clothes off and into something softer. I bend over to pickup a pair of fuzzy blue sweatpants off the floor. When I stand I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look pleasantly plump. I swear my hips recently got wider, and I can feel the weight of my moderate breasts begging for release from my bra. Pretty soon I won’t fit in these dress pants. I shimmy out of of them and pull my blue sweatpants up. I was expecting a sweet release but got the opposite. Instead of being comfortable and spacious, my rear end is testing the limits of the seams. Throw my matching blue zip up top on. I look like a blueberry. This outfit used to look so sexy on me when I was 120lbs. At 170 I look like a bit of a slob with an exposed midriff and what appears to be the initiation of a double chin.
I can’t step away from the mirror. The visual of my expanding body and the immense pressure inside my stomach activates my naughty feedee side. I stare deeply at the mirror massaging my belly. I am so aware of how tense the fabric surrounding my body is. I reach for the bag of candy in my bedside table and launch myself onto the bed. Quickly opening and logging into Fantasy Feeder I begin browsing for stories to read. “First Date Fun” rolls accross the top of the webpage and I decide to give it a read. Its a realistic story about a girl named Laly who got plumped up by a mysterious feeder. The story is so hot. I find myself shoving candy down my throat and rubbing myself to the thought of Laly being fattened up by her cruel but loving feeder. I reach my climax. That story was so hot……I return to the family party to enjoy the rest of thanksgiving.
A few weeks pass, and I find myself continually returning to that same story when I seek pleasure. I find myself fantasizing about what it would be like if I was in the main characters shoes, being overstuffed by a loving feeder until I’m fit to burst. Having no choice but to swell and grow. It's alll just a fantasy I tell myself…it’ll never be my real life. I enjoyed the story so much, and one day I login to get a notification that the author has viewed my profile. I decide to check out his profile. Fillyourbelly17 is the username. It looks like he is from Boston. It's a shame there is so much distance. Maybe I should just message him…to let him know how I felt about his story. So I did. I send a message and wonder if he will even bother to respond to me.....TBC