What Alex Wants

Chapter 1

Today, it’s Monday, around the time where the first pot of coffee runs out in the financial aid office. Alex pauses his training module and rises to start a fresh one. “I’m not going to be able to sit through another hour of federal student loan definitions without more caffeine,” he groggily thought, the first mug offering little relief. The twenty seven year old changed the spent grounds for a fresh filter, then heaped on a fresh mound of aromatic Arabica beans. Closing the lid and starting the machine, Alex stifled a yawn, winking involuntarily and contorting his lips as if the yawn was being casually spat out. He used to just drink coffee on special occasions, but ever since he started working in this office, he needed it. Its effects the only goal, he always took it black. Rubbing his eyes, he waited.

He had been up later than usual the night before, an uncommon occurrence that was attributed to Alex’s grand return to the dating scene. At six feet and three inches, the German-Puerto Rican American never had trouble turning heads. With above average looks and below average eyesight, he recently started wearing glasses - thin black rectangular frames gave him a handsome intellectual look. Thick strong eyebrows rested above his brown eyes, while a long acute nose held up his glasses. He was the kind of guy with prominent eyelashes, and given his farsightedness, his lenses made those eyes seem bigger than they were. The exaggerated appearance generally enhanced his cuteness, and the combination of circular, square, and triangular features made it obvious that Alex’s face would be very fun to draw. He was growing out his hair. Alex kept it barely an inch long throughout most of the year, but on this early December morning, it was approaching inch three, and his dark brown waves were really starting to show.

Alex had very little in the way of dating experience. He only really had one girlfriend, ever. Her name was Natalie, and they had met in tenth grade when they were fifteen. High school sports events, formals, prom, they even went on to the same small college together. Natalie studied nursing, and Alex chose advertising. The two of them both graduated, and even moved into a small apartment together. Their adorable high school sweetheart love story was like a yarn somebody’s grandpa would spin of a bygone era (only with less misogyny), and it would have been downright perfect unless they hadn’t broken up. They dated steadily for nearly ten years, with Natalie going on to PA school shortly after undergrad. The day after she officially became a physician assistant, she called it quits. Alex was never the assertive type, and terminally apologetic, characteristics that were starting to drive Natalie insane now that she was an adult woman. Citing these, and a few other incompatibilities, the breakup was surprisingly amicable - mostly since Alex wouldn’t dare put up a fight with someone he loved for a decade. The lease ended that May, and they both went their separate ways. They were both twenty five, and single for virtually the first time.

For two years Alex was awash in a voluntary, and slightly misanthropic, celibacy. He had been intimate countless times with Natalie over the years - they had lost their virginities at seventeen to one another - and yes, sex felt good to him, but all those years he never felt completely sexually satisfied. There was an element that always stole his focus during the act. Sure, breasts are lovely. And of course, who doesn’t like a nice bottom, Natalie had a great one. Even vaginas (or rather, vagina, as he’d only ever known Natalie’s), the look of them scary and alien to an adolescent Alex, became appealing and delicious over time thanks to Natalie’s coaching. All of these were great, but not all of them combined could displace Alex’s reverence for a big, round abdomen. A full stomach. A proper gut. Bellies are what arouse him without failure, a true carnal delight.

He didn’t really know where the fascination began. He wagered it probably had some biological aspect, something about a call to reproduce successfully, but this sterile scientific explanation always rubbed him the wrong way. He did have that eighth grade English teacher, Mrs. Coscarelli, who in standard English teacher fashion, became pregnant early on during that school year. It wasn’t just her womb that swelled. The short, lithe, and bookish woman ballooned all over; her fingers fattened and formed slight bulges around her wedding band. Her arms and legs thickened, and she started sporting a slight double chin. As she grew, her hands began to rest upon and periodically rub her protruding belly. Alex was mesmerized by her growth, and terribly afraid to get caught staring. This led him to YouTube.

This was before the sophisticated algorithms that plague the modern web, but there were still dangerous surprises to be had online. Unsupervised screen time for kids had always ran the risk of being exposed to beheading videos and other traumas. Thankfully, Alex’s timidity steered him away from violent searches. It was his newly awakened attraction that cast him down a rabbit hole of belly-related media. First it was ‘pregnant bellies,’ or ‘embarazada’ as the videos were titled. He found the Mexican uploads had the prettiest outie bellybuttons, the tan globes bulging out of too-small camisetas. But soon, he learned about stuffing and bloating, a way to achieve the alluring ball-bellied look without the expensive permanence of bringing a new life into this world. On top of that was inflation, and the people that combined it with large amounts of food and drink. He ogled as the uploaders showcased their stomachs and intestines filled to the brim, so tight that Alex worried their bowels would rupture. The noises too - he became obsessed with the muffled percussion of air bubbles popping while groans and squeaks fought through a mountain of digesting food. Burps were a bit different. He found their sound to be strictly humorous, but there was a twinge of intrigue upon hearing a shallow one. Shallow burps, he thought, were like a signal that room was scarce, and that a stomach was full. Stomachs that stayed so full for so long made weight gain a certainty, and this too caught the young Alex’s attention.

Eventually, Alex discovered a web forum for ‘feederism.’ Or is it ‘feedism’? He didn’t care, all he knew is that this forum was full of people like him, people who felt the pull of the belly. He even went so far as to make an account, with no profile or profile picture, of course. He knew this stuff wasn’t normal, but despite the fear, he felt compelled to keep learning more. Learn more, he did. After a few days of logging on and reading posts, Alex learned what browser search history was, and that it could be easily found, but only after his dad told him so. Turns out using the family desktop to research such topics was a surefire way to earn an excruciatingly embarrassing talk with your parents. Even though Alex was beet red and ashamed, his parents were mostly understanding. They noted that everyone gets urges, but to remember that fantasy is not reality. The intentional weight gain bits gave them the most concern, they saw that as unhealthy, but Alex promised to stop. The self-loathing of getting caught scared him straight, and to this day, he mistakenly recognizes ‘embarazada’ as a false cognate for ‘embarrassed.’

The memory of the forum began to fade, and a few years later he met Natalie. He never mentioned bellies until after they graduated high school and completed their first semester of freshman year. It was a combination of Natalie growing into an adult and the inevitable freshman fifteen that she began sporting a slight paunch. Not terribly noticeable, really, but for Alex - who was much more perceptive to such growth - he noticed with delight. Unable to keep it to himself any longer, he playfully squeezed it when they were cuddling one night on the couch. Natalie’s hand flew to grab his wrist.

“What are you touching my gut for?” Natalie asked curtly. She was well aware of her gain, and was not a fan.

“… Gut? This is just a stomach,” he corrected, pinching it again, “and I… kind of like it.”

“Pfft, yeah? Well don’t get used to it. My New Year’s resolution is to hit the gym.” Natalie was a self-proclaimed health nut, and she was sure her current fluffiness was nothing more than a physiological speed bump between adolescence and adulthood. Alex knew he could never tell Natalie his hidden urges. He was too meek, for starters, and even if he found the courage to stand by his convictions, he didn’t know the language to make him not seem like a total freak. Instead, he privately cursed the skinny-supremacist culture he lived in, silently prayed for fatphobia to disappear, and buried any belly-related thoughts for the rest of their relationship. But that was Alex at eighteen. Alex at twenty seven was eager to unbury this part of himself. He was still naturally timid, but compared to his younger self, he was bold. Alex downloaded some dating apps, filled out his profiles, and started playing the game, determined to incorporate his appreciation for the ample into his love life.

The coffee machine beeped as a fresh pot laid full beneath the spout. Alex deliberately raised the pot and filled his mug, leaving a half-inch space from the top. He liked hot coffee, but the fresh batches were always scalding, so he opted to leave space for a few ice cubes in order to lower the heat enough to start drinking immediately. He plopped in two cubes, watched them shrink into the black, and took a drink. He strode back to his cubicle, the caffeine starting to hit the bloodstream. Alex sat back down at his desk, reequipped his headset, and settled back into the training module. As the narrator’s monotone and poorly-compressed voice droned on about the Free Application for Federal Student Aid, his mind wandered to replay the weekend’s dates. He had two, one on Saturday and one on Sunday, and while both were entirely serviceable dates, in terms of his belly-related goals, they were wastes of time.

Saturday’s date was with Monica, a twenty nine year old hospice nurse. They went out to a sports bar, at Monica’s suggestion, for pub food, conversation, and to watch ‘the football game.’ She had messaged Alex the competing teams’ names, and who she was rooting for, but he promptly forgot. Alex could not bring himself to care about sports. But he pretended, and once they were both at the bar, he politely asked to be reminded.

“The Lions, dude,” she obliged. “They were getting crapped on for ages and now, all of the sudden, they’re kickin’ ass!” Monica excitedly tossed a corn chip into her mouth. “They’re playing the Packers. This is a recording, they played a few days ago.”

“Why are we watching it, then? Don’t we already know who wins?” Alex questioned genuinely.

“That sounds like something a fake fan would say,” Monica quipped, reaching for her beer. Alex locked eyes with her and she smirked before tossing back the remainder of the pint. Women who drink beer are so sexy.

“So, how was your Thanksgiving? Do anything fun?” Alex asked.

“Same old, same old. Dinner with the family, aunts and uncles asking annoying questions about work and if I’m still single.” Monica turned her hands into a gun and made a gesture as if she was eating the barrel and pulling the trigger. “So fuckin’ annoying. But something weird DID happen. You’re on the apps, right? Do you mind if I talk about my other matches?”

“Not at all!” Alex beamed. If anything, he needed the insight. Maybe he’d find some lesson within her tales; modern dating was a diabolically inhuman ordeal, and every nugget of knowledge helps.

“Alright, well, I matched with this guy named Melvin,” Monica continued. Alex began to speak in befuddlement, but she stopped him. “Yes, that’s his name, or at least his name on the app. Yes, I know it’s an unfortunate name. But that’s not even the weird part. He was messaging me on Thanksgiving, after dinner.” Before Alex’s mind could guess how much food Monica ate that day, she leaned back in her chair, her face flashing to one of disgust. “He kept asking me to send him pictures of my stomach! Isn’t that crazy? What a fuckin’ weirdo! He kept asking about my ‘food baby’ and if I could eat more for him. Total psycho, am I right?”

Alex feigned a giggle and nodded in agreement. “Totally,” he lied. He smiled at her, and reached for his water. He needed to cool down, and think of a new subject fast in order to get through the rest of the date. Alex settled on favorite Olympic events, and got quite the conversational mileage out of it - though all the while, he just wanted to ask her: “So… did you send him any?”

Sunday’s date was with Emily, a twenty four year old barista. Alex waited for her at the local independent movie theater, because they decided to attend an evening showing of a popular Chinese animated film. It was so new, they had to watch it in subtitles. It was well over two hours long, so provisions were a necessity. Alex was more than happy to purchase drinks, popcorn, and sweets. Slowly but surely, all the treats were depleted. By the time the credits rolled, they had each eaten about half.

Given Alex’s stature, the food and drink was enough to satiate, but not fill. Emily, however, being nearly a foot shorter, was visibly full. She hiccuped and groaned lightly.

“Ugh, sorry,” she muttered, “I ate too much. Gross.” She patted her stomach apprehensively and quickly put on her jacket to shroud her tummy. “You probably think I’m a pig.”

“Not at all,” Alex reassured, beating the urge to glance at her middle. Everything was hidden by the jacket now, anyway. “What did you think of the movie?” The two happily discussed their opinions while walking out to the lobby. Upon making it outside, they thanked one another and retired for the evening. On his walk home, Alex thought it was a shame Emily was so negative about her appetite. He knew it wasn’t her fault, body ideals for women were notoriously harmful, and deeply engrained. Thin was in. Maybe he needed to look elsewhere for a compatible date. Maybe he needed to go back to the forum.

Five o’clock finally came, and Alex was satisfied with the progress made on the modules for the day. The subject material was obviously dry and byzantine, but training was mandatory, so he was keen to knock out as much as possible. This drained him, but with a wide open evening, the promise of a return to the forum invigorated him. His commute home was a brain-racking blast from the past. Even though it had been years since he last used them, he finally remembered his username and password:

Al_Wolf3
3m8@r4z@d4

Both were hard to recall, especially the order of the @s and 4s in the password, but they worked! He was back in. Alex immediately navigated to his profile. “Thirteen years?” he read in disbelief. His account was amongst the oldest on the entire site. Alex went and filled out his entire bio, and added a recent selfie, just so there was something. After a slight delay, he felt the momentousness of attaching his face to his fetish. His heart rate started to pick up.

The website was frustratingly similar to how it functioned when he was a kid. That is to say, it was a clunky ancient mess by current standards. The forum function worked best, but private messaging was cumbersome, and image menus were obtuse. Alex shrugged, brow still furrowed. This was the best he got. He had to work with it. He just had to start sending messages. There was a limit of five new outgoing messages a day, but since it was his first day back in years, he chose to avoid the search menu and simply scroll who was most recently online. The structure of his messages were short and sweet, well wishes and a hello. It seemed like a fine strategy to begin with, and he could always change it up if he found the results lacking. He chose the first five users with the most compelling profiles, and sent them each a variant of ‘hello, hope you are doing well.’ After he sent the fifth one, he sat back from his screen. He wanted to explore more of the forum, but it was getting late. Tomorrow was only Tuesday, and it was highly unlikely anyone would respond tonight. Alex logged off and prepared for bed. Seven in the morning would come quickly.

Alex was never able to find an alarm that didn’t piss him off immediately upon waking up, so he picked the one that made him the least angry. He used that to his advantage, however, by waking up moments before the alarm sounds, bypassing the enraging noise entirely. He disabled the alarm and rose to brush his teeth. As the paste frothed in his mouth, he remembered what he was doing right before bed. Brushing with one hand, and using his phone with the other, he logged into the forum. “Jesus, the mobile browser version is just as fugly as expected,” he griped to himself mentally. “Maybe there’s a mobile app?” Alex spit, rinsed, and put on his glasses. Focusing on the screen earnestly for the first time that morning, he noticed that one of his messages had received a response overnight.