Kate & Sawyer

Chapter 1

Kate kicked off her shoes the moment she stepped through the door, the soft thud of them hitting the floor echoing faintly through the apartment. The keys jingled as she dropped them on the counter beside her bag, and then, with more care, she set down the heavy brown paper sack bulging with leftover Chipotle, her haul from the end of her shift. The scent of warm tortillas, grilled meat, and roasted peppers still clung to her clothes, rising up as she slipped out of her jacket and tossed it over a chair.

She stood there for a second, unmoving, her gaze resting on the food bag. A slow smile spread across her face. She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The man from earlier—she didn’t know his name, likely never would, but his image was seared into her mind like grease on a hot skillet. She'd watched him devour his food with such focus, such abandon, that it had made the hair on her arms stand up. Ravenous didn’t even begin to cover it. There was something deeply carnal about it, something unfiltered. He hadn’t even tried to hide the way he was indulging himself.

Kate made her way to the sink, twisting the faucet handle with a squeak and letting the water run cool over her hands. She lathered up slowly, fingers massaging the soap over her palms, up between each finger, working through the routine even as her mind stayed tethered to the memory of that moment. He’d already been full when he walked in. She was sure of it. She could tell by the way he sat, arms splayed out, belly doming up beneath his shirt like it was holding back a flood. He was visibly uncomfortable, but still he’d ordered more. A ton more.

She dried her hands on a dish towel, her smile deepening. That look, she knew it too well. The fullness that tilted on the edge of pain, the way he had to shift in his seat just to keep breathing. So what was he doing there? Why push it even further?

Her thoughts flicked back to his phone propped up on the seat beside him. Set up carefully, angled just right. It had to be feedism. What else would it be? Who else would film themselves that way? It wasn’t just eating, it was stuffing. Performance and intention.

"Babe? That you?"

Sawyer’s voice drifted in from the bedroom, cutting through the fog of her thoughts.

"Yeah, hun, I’m coming!" she called back, still smiling.

She moved to the fridge, pulling the door open and grabbing a chilled can of sparkling water. The can hissed as she cracked it open, and she took a long sip, the bubbles sharp on her tongue. Her thoughts still hadn’t let go of the image. A real feedee. Out in the wild! Like something rare and radiant. She felt a flutter of amusement in her chest, and something else beneath it, a glint of excitement she didn’t bother trying to name.

"Hun, you’ll never guess what I saw at work today," she called out, raising her voice enough to carry down the hallway. She was already moving toward the cupboards now, pulling out one of their plastic serving trays. She set it down with a soft thump on the counter.

"I saw a feedee recording for his feeder. Right there in the middle of the restaurant," she said, her voice colored with disbelief and a kind of giddy reverence.

"No way. Really?" Sawyer called back, half-laughing.

"Yeah, really!" Kate opened the food bag and reached in, pulling out two overstuffed burritos still wrapped in foil, warm and weighty in her hands. She set them on the tray with a pair of dull thuds, their bulk evident even through the packaging. "I mean, why else would a fat guy record himself stuffing so publicly?" she said, more to herself than to Sawyer, even as she poured out the chips—two bags' worth—onto the tray in a scattered, salt-dusted heap.

The man could’ve been recording for himself, now that she thought about it. Or maybe he posted videos online or something. But he was pushing himself too hard, and was too dedicated. You only ate like that when there was someone special to eat for. Kate knew that all too well.

She grabbed the little plastic cups of accompaniments next, nestling them in beside the chips: thick guac, creamy queso, the bright red of mild salsa and the sharper green bite of tomatillo. Her fingers were moving automatically now, but her mind was still replaying the moment she'd handed the burrito over the counter, barely able to wrap it properly around all the fillings he’d asked for.

"I got to wrap his burrito too," she went on. "It was massive. Extra double everything. The thing was the size of a baby," she said, laughing as she opened the fridge one last time.

She grabbed a half-empty 2-liter of soda tucked into the side shelf and nestled it under one arm. She then lifted the heavy tray from the counter and turned toward the hall, headed for the bedroom. The smile still played on her face.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar, the warm yellow light inside spilling into the hallway. Kate nudged it open with her shoulder, careful not to jostle the heavy tray balanced in her hands. The scent of Chipotle wafted in with her, mixing with the lingering smell of Sawyer’s scent and whatever he'd been snacking on throughout the evening.

Sawyer lay sprawled across the bed, taking up easily eighty percent of the mattress. He was reclined against a stack of pillows, barely upright. His shirt only half covered his middle, bunched uselessly just beneath his chest. Everything below it—his huge, distended belly—was bare, the expanse of it doming out and spilling over the tops of his thighs, all the way down to where his knees disappeared under the blanket. Even from the doorway, Kate could see the way his gut shifted with each breath, taut and round and dimpled with stretch marks that traced around the sides like faded ribbons.

His face lit up as she stepped inside. That look, that instant brightness in his eyes, was something she never tired of. Even if, sometimes, she knew that what he was lighting up for wasn’t her exactly, but whatever food she might be carrying. Not that she minded much.

Sawyer smiled wide, his cheeks puffed and flushed, and instinctively ran his hands across the slope of his chest and the upper swell of his belly. A subconscious habitual gesture, learned from constantly brushing for crumbs, clearing space for more. Kate leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then carefully set the tray down atop his stomach. The thing barely wobbled. His belly made a near-perfect table, its curve flat enough across the top that the tray didn’t even tilt. As if his body were made for this life.

Without hesitation, Sawyer reached for a chip and popped it into his mouth, like he couldn’t stand the idea of his mouth being idle. His absurdly swollen fingers were thick and puffy, like overstuffed sausages. They fumbled with the foil wrapping of the first burrito, tearing it away with practiced impatience.

Kate moved to the nightstand, sliding aside an empty pack of Oreos that had been unopened when she’d left earlier that day. She set the two-liter of soda down in its place, close enough for Sawyer to grab without shifting too much. She let out a quiet sigh as she lowered herself onto the very edge of the bed beside him.

"He kinda reminded me of you," she said, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation like it had never paused.

"Yeah?" Sawyer mumbled around a mouthful, glancing her way before turning back to his food.

She watched as he took a massive bite of the burrito, then immediately reached for a chip, scooping up a dollop of guac and shoving it in before he’d even finished chewing.

"Yep," she said. "Well—not you now. But you then. I think he was probably close to pushing four hundred, if I had to guess."

Her gaze slid over Sawyer, taking him in with the kind of detached awe that still struck her now and then, even after years together. His double chin had grown into a soft, motion-heavy mass that bunched and jiggled with every movement, completely swallowing what had once been a neck. His arms, masses of fat bigger than her thighs, bulged outward, resting naturally at angles because they simply couldn’t sit flat against his sides anymore. Each time he lifted a hand to eat, his fat upper arms pushed into his drooping chest, the heavy curve of it sagging and folding onto the shelf of his belly.

"Remember when you were that small?" she asked, and there was a thread of nostalgia in her voice she hadn’t expected.

Sawyer didn’t answer right away. He grunted instead, mouth full again. He swallowed hard and shook his head. "Not really," he said eventually, honest and distant.

Kate giggled. “I do,” she said. Her hand lifted to the center of his belly, her palm sinking slightly as she rubbed in slow, wide arcs. The top half of his gut was firm, tight with fullness, but the lower part pooled to the sides and pressed into the mattress with heavy resistance. The mass of it was wider than the whole length of her arm, even from just this angle.

"You were so eager," she said, her voice softening. "Always tagging along like an overfed purse puppy."

The image made her smile. It was true. There’d been a time when Sawyer had followed her everywhere, content just to be by her side with a snack in one hand and a drink in the other, the early days of his gain still new and thrilling.

"Back when you were still mobile anyway," she added with a smirk.

Sawyer nodded, chewing slowly now, his head tilting a little as if remembering something himself. The first burrito had vanished—Kate hadn’t even noticed him finish it. She blinked as he licked a smear of sour cream from his hand, already eyeing the second one.

"I mean, yeah," he said. "I was obsessed with you. With what you were doing to my body every day." He looked at her then, grinning, his tone light but deliberate, baiting her affection with the compliment. "Still am."

The words hit their mark. Kate squealed softly, her cheeks pinking as she leaned over and squeezed a thick roll of his side, then planted several kisses on his cheek in rapid succession. Sawyer chuckled, hiccuping softly as he steadied the tray with both hands as Kate pulled away.

With one thick arm, he reached for the two-liter, unscrewed the cap, and brought it to his lips. He drank deeply, the plastic bottle crinkling in his grip as he sucked down the sugary liquid. His other hand rested lazily on the base of his gut, fingers splayed and unmoving.

Kate could feel his stomach swelling beneath her hand, faint but undeniable. The way it bloated as the soda filled the spaces between all that food.

When he finally pulled the bottle away, he exhaled slowly, then shifted slightly. She saw his chin pull back, his breath pause.

"Uuurrrppp."

A low, drawn-out burp rumbled up from deep inside him.

"Whoo," Sawyer sighed, his voice glutted and thick with satisfaction.

Kate bit her lip.