Bound and Blooming

Chapter 1 - The Find

Drake

I wasn’t looking for a submissive in the usual sense when I made my profile. The ropes, the control.. yes, I liked those- but pain, humiliation? Not my thing. My vice was something softer, heavier. I wanted to watch someone transform for me.

That’s why her profile stopped me. Simple photo- a slim brunette, shy smile, tied wrists resting in her lap. Her caption read: “Curious about being someone’s everything.”

I messaged her immediately. I didn’t talk about whips or paddles. I told her my idea: I’d bind her somewhere comfortable, keep her close, feed her and pamper her day after day, I expected her to laugh or block me.

Instead, she typed back: “Show me.”

This was perfect. I would pamper and feed her, so I wasn’t lying. I couldn’t wait to meet this girl.


Lilly

When his first message came through, I thought it was a joke. Not the usual dom speak. He didn’t want pain, degradation he wanted indulgence, attention, obsession. Lots of it.

Part of me recoiled. Another part thought the idea of constantly worrying about where my next meal would come from, realized this was a great offer. He would take care of me. This was… intoxicating.

He wasn’t quite honest from the start. When we met in person he told me “It’ll be fast. You’ll be tied for hours while I feed you. You’ll get heavy quickly. I want you so full you can’t move.”

This wasn’t quite what I wanted. But he had so much to offer and I’m tired of men using me. I’d let him spoil me. I said yes before I could second guess it. I would be set for life and never have to work again.

Drake

She lay back on the padded bed in my basement m, wrists bound in soft rope above her head, eyes wide with curiosity. I’d brought in a tray stacked with milkshakes, pastries, and warm rolls dripping butter.

“Ready?” I asked.

She nodded.

The first hour was gentle- a milkshake between her lips, a chocolate tart melting on her tongue. By the third hour, her belly was taut, her breathing slow and heavy. She giggled when I stroked her side, then moaned softly as I coaxed another forkful past her lips.

Lilly

Time blurred. I was aware only of the ropes keeping me still, the constant pressure in my stomach, his quiet encouragement.

“You’re perfect like this,” he murmured.

I stopped thinking about stopping. My body was already changing, pressing more into the cushions, the ropes feeling tighter. And when he finally untied me, my legs wobbled under the new weight I swore hadn’t been there that morning.

Drake

Within a week, she was heavier. Within a month, she’d stopped wearing the clothes she’d arrived in m. They no longer fit. I kept her bound more often now, pillows propping her as I worked through my feeding routine. Milkshake, pie, cream-filled pastries, repeat.

Her belly rose higher each day, her thighs pressing wider. She didn’t just fill the bed now, she spilled over it.

I tightened the ropes one evening, leaned in, and whispered, “Soon you won’t be able to move from here without me.” She just smiled, lips slick with cream.

Three months in, she could no longer stand for more than a few minutes. Her thighs brushed in a heavy sway, her belly swelled round and soft, and her arms had taken on a pillowy thickness that made me want to tie them above her head forever. But I wanted more. Faster.

I upgraded the bed to a wide custom built recliner with an electric tilt, so I could feed her from every angle without her having to move. Then came the automatic feeder, a slow drip milkshake line fixed above her head, connected to a funnel at her lips. She could sip constantly, even in her sleep.

For meals, I started layering- a stack of pancakes dripping syrup, followed immediately by a plate of bacon, then custard tarts. I never gave her a chance to feel empty.I even started blending whole cheesecakes into shakes so she’d drink what she might refuse to chew.

Lilly

It was like living inside a dream that was also a cloud , soft, heavy, endless.

He had turned feeding me into an art. I never knew what he’d bring next: a mountain of cinnamon rolls still warm, a bowl of cream so thick it coated my tongue, or something savory to make me crave sweets again.

Sometimes he’d tie my wrists just loosely enough that I could hold the mug or spoon, but he always guided my hand, urging more in.

The constant trickle of shake from the feeder above my bed was the biggest change. At first, I thought I’d hate it, waking in the night to the taste of chocolate and cream — but soon I didn’t notice. My body adjusted. I grew faster.

Drake

She was still getting up to shower, and I decided that was wasted energy. I built her a wash station next to the recliner, warm cloths, scented oils, and a sprayer I could use to rinse her.

I also started using weighted blankets during feeding sessions. She thought they were for comfort, but they pressed her deeper into the cushions, making it harder to shift. I wanted her body to learn to stay still.

One night, I replaced the ropes with a soft leather harness that wrapped her belly, chest, and thighs, holding her in place while I knelt at her side and fed her bite after bite until she was glassy-eyed from fullness.

Lilly

The line between days blurred. I stopped keeping track of time. My world became the recliner, the feeder line, his hands bringing me more.

The harness was strange at first, snug around my middle, under my breasts, between my legs, but I realized it made eating easier. I could relax completely, let him do the work.

My belly rested heavily between my thighs now, my arms had grown thick and heavy enough that lifting them was tiring. My feet… I hadn’t seen them in weeks.

And when he leaned over one night, his voice low and warm, and said, “You’re almost there, love. Just a little bigger and you’ll never have to move again,” I felt a shiver run through me that had nothing to do with the cold.

Where should I go with this story? Should I change it and have Drake force her this entire time? Or should I continue as is?