Why

Chapter 1

I lay on his couch. So full, that breathing is painful. I have already eaten a feast fit for a queen. That is what he always cooks, and it is what I always eat. My boyfriend comes back with two more plates of brownies. “ You can’t possibly be full already. You have barely eaten any compared to normal” he says.

He pats my stomach. I release the burp I had been holding in, hopeful that he wouldn’t realize I had more room. Painful room, but room nonetheless. He says with a smile, “ There you go. Finish these brownies before I get back. We can’t let them go to waste now, can we”.

He places the plates on my stomach. I am so full that I don’t want to eat them, but I do like the pig I am. Why did I do this. I knew the risks coming into the world of being a feedee , but why did I agree. These things I wonder as I unknowingly devour the first plate. Deep down I know why I did it. I love the feeling of not being able to put one more thing in me for fear I might burst. I love the big belly, soft before I eat, then gets rock hard, and I strain to breath. By the time I finish the second plate, my boyfriend is back. I see the grocery bag in his hand. “Wow. My little piggy was hungry tonight wasn’t she” he says in response.

He comes over and feels my enlarged stomach. Thoughtfully he says, “You still have some room my fat piggy. You’re not done at the trough just yet”.

He goes back to the kitchen and gets a pie. I am full to eat that I think to myself. He comes over and feeds me the pie right out of the tin. With each bite I can feel the room in my stomach disappear. When the whole tin is finished, he leaves me on the couch after patting my bloated belly a few times and saying, “Did you eat well, my piggy? My, my you have gotten quite large from when we started this last year. I don’t miss your little, petite figure a bit, and you better not either”.

Just after he says that I fall asleep holding my giant, eight month pregnant looking gut. I really am a fat pig. And I love it.