Alluring Feeder

Chapter 1

The city lights flickered like distant stars against the encroaching dusk as Josh stepped out of his Uber, his broad frame casting a long shadow on the cracked sidewalk. At 6’2” and tipping the scales at 240 pounds, Josh moved with a deliberate swagger, his belly protruding just enough to strain the buttons of his flannel shirt. He adjusted the waistband of his jeans, feeling the familiar tightness that came from a day of casual snacking—nothing compared to what awaited him tonight. Mark’s house loomed ahead, a modest two-story in a quiet suburb, its windows glowing warmly with promises of indulgence.
Josh pulled out his phone, thumbs flying across the screen as he texted Lucas. “Heading into Mark’s now. He’s got pizzas, burgers, fries lined up. Gonna stuff me till I can’t move. Wish me luck, bro.”
Lucas’s reply buzzed back almost instantly. “Haha, go get ‘em, big guy. Don’t pop any buttons… or do, that’d be hot. Good luck—text me when you’re done exploding.”
Josh chuckled, a deep rumble that vibrated through his chest. Lucas, his best friend and fellow gainer at 6’0” and 220 pounds, understood the thrill better than anyone. They’d met online years ago, bonding over shared fantasies of endless feasts and swelling bodies. Now, they were inseparable, pushing each other to new limits in their quest for size. But tonight was Josh’s solo adventure, a hookup with Mark that had been building for weeks through flirty messages on Grommr, the app where gainers like them found feeders, encouragers, and everything in between.
He knocked on the door, heart pounding with anticipation. The door swung open, and there stood Mark—tall, lean, with sharp features and a predatory grin. His eyes raked over Josh’s form, lingering on the curve of his gut. “Well, well, if it isn’t the pig I’ve been waiting for. Get in here.”
Josh stepped inside, the scent of greasy fast food hitting him like a wave. Piles of pizza boxes from the local joint stacked on the coffee table, alongside bags from McDonald’s overflowing with burgers, fries, and extra-large sodas. The air was thick with the aroma of melted cheese, fried potatoes, and sizzling beef—a symphony for Josh’s senses.
Without a word, Mark peeled off his own shirt, revealing a toned torso that contrasted sharply with Josh’s softer build. “Strip,” Mark commanded, his voice low and authoritative. “Show me what I’m working with, fatty.”
Josh’s breath hitched, a flush creeping up his neck. He obeyed, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, letting it fall to the floor. His belly spilled out, round and firm from recent gains, stretch marks faint like badges of honor. Below, his arousal was already evident, straining against his pants. Mark’s eyes darkened with lust.
“Look at you,” Mark sneered, circling Josh like a shark. “Such a fat slob already. Bet you can’t even see your feet anymore, huh? Porker. Lardass. You’re disgusting—and it’s turning me on.”
The words stung in the best way, igniting a fire in Josh’s core. He felt himself harden fully, a shiver running down his spine. Mark grabbed a slice of pizza from the top box—extra cheese, pepperoni, sausage, the works—and shoved it toward Josh’s mouth.
“Open up, pig. Time to eat.”
Josh parted his lips, taking the slice in one greedy bite. The hot cheese stretched and snapped, sauce dripping down his chin. Mark didn’t let him chew fully before offering another, his free hand roaming over Josh’s belly, pinching the soft flesh. “That’s it, stuff that gut. I want to see it balloon.”
The feeding began in earnest. Mark alternated between pizza slices and burgers, unwrapping Big Macs and Quarter Pounders with deft fingers, forcing them into Josh’s eager mouth. Fries followed, salty and crisp, dipped in ketchup that smeared across Josh’s lips. Josh chewed mechanically, swallows coming faster as the rhythm built. His stomach gurgled in protest at first, then settled into acceptance, expanding with each mouthful.
“You’re such a greedy hog,” Mark taunted, his voice husky. “Look at that belly swelling already. Fat boy can’t stop, can he? Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, getting fatter for me.”
Josh moaned around a mouthful of burger, nodding fervently. The derogatory names fueled his arousal, making every bite more intense. Mark’s hand dipped lower, grazing Josh’s erection through his pants, teasing but not satisfying. “Not yet, tubby. Eat more.”
Pizza after pizza disappeared. The first box emptied quickly, Josh’s belches punctuating the air—deep, resonant eruptions that made Mark laugh darkly. “Good pig. Let it out. Make room for more.”
By the second pizza, Josh’s pants were undone, his belly protruding freely, skin taut and warm. Mark knelt, feeding him from below, his face inches from Josh’s navel.
“You’re getting so round. Blimp. Whale. I love watching you bloat.”
Sweat beaded on Josh’s forehead as he tackled the third pizza. His chewing slowed, breaths coming in pants, but Mark was relentless. “Don’t stop now, ***. Finish it. Every last crumb.”
Simultaneously, the McDonald’s combos piled up. The first: a Big Mac meal with large fries and Coke. Gulped down. The second: Double Quarter Pounder, more fries, endless soda refills from the liter bottles Mark had prepared. Josh’s gut ached deliciously, a heavy fullness that bordered on ecstasy.
As the third pizza’s final slice vanished and the fourth combo’s burger met its end—fries crammed in handfuls—Josh felt the peak approaching. His belly was distended, a dome of overindulgence, gurgling loudly. Mark’s hand worked furiously now, stroking himself as he watched. With a groan, Mark climaxed, spilling onto Josh’s swollen abdomen, the warmth mixing with the grease and crumbs already there.
Josh let out a massive belch, the sound echoing through the room like thunder—long, drawn-out, vibrating his entire frame. It was guttural, primal, releasing pressure and sending waves of relief through him.
Mark’s eyes glazed with renewed hunger. He leaned in, capturing Josh’s lips in a fierce kiss, tongues tangling amid the taste of fast food. Josh melted into it, hoping for more, for the night to extend.
But Mark pulled back abruptly. “That’s enough for tonight, pig. Get an Uber and go home. I got what I wanted.”
Josh blinked, confusion mixing with the haze of fullness. “But… stay? We could—”
“No,” Mark cut him off, already pulling on his shirt. “Out. Now.”
Deflated but too stuffed to argue, Josh dressed clumsily, his belly sloshing with every movement. The Uber ride home was a blur of discomfort and lingering arousal, the city streets passing in a neon haze. He stumbled into his studio apartment, collapsing onto the bed, hand absently rubbing his cum-smeared gut until sleep claimed him.
The next morning dawned with a pounding headache and a stomach still heavy from the night before. Josh reached for his phone, intending to message Mark about round two. But as he opened Instagram, then Twitter, then Grommr—blocked. Everywhere. No explanation, just digital silence.
Frustration boiled over. “What the fuck?” he muttered, pacing the small space. His studio was a gainer’s haven: shelves of protein shakes mixed with weight gain powders, a fridge stocked with high-calorie treats, posters of massive men adorning the walls. But now, it felt empty.
He logged into Grommr, venting in a post: “Just got ghosted after the most intense feed ever. Stuffed me silly, called me every name in the book, then blocked me everywhere. Feeders are flakes. Anyone else deal with this shit?”
Comments trickled in—sympathy from fellow gainers, stories of similar woes. But one reply stood out, from a blank profile: no pic, no bio, just a username “FeederPrime.” The message: “You wouldn’t have this problem with me, fatso. I’d stuff you till you burst and never let you go.”
Josh’s heart skipped. Butterflies erupted in his still-tender stomach. He replied instantly:
“Oh yeah? Tell me more.”
The conversation flowed like honey—smooth, intoxicating. FeederPrime was articulate, dominant without being cruel at first. “I see your pics, Josh. 240? Cute starter weight. I’d double it. Triple. Make you my prized hog.”
Josh’s fingers trembled as he typed back, sharing details of last night’s session. FeederPrime responded with vivid scenarios: “I’d chain you to a chair, funnel-feed you shakes till your gut hangs to your knees. Call you my blubber boy, my obese obsession.”
The words painted pictures in Josh’s mind, arousal building anew. As FeederPrime promised, “I’ll make you as fat as humanly possible—immobile, dependent, mine,” Josh couldn’t hold back. He stroked himself furiously, climaxing with a shudder, the fantasy overwhelming.
Panting, he cleaned up, then messaged Lucas a screenshot of the profile. “Dude, check this out. This guy’s perfect. Message him—tell him you want in. I want us both to be his piggies. Imagine the gains.”
Lucas’s reply came with laughing emojis: “Holy shit, he’s so hot. On it, bro. Let’s blow up together.”
As the day wore on, Josh refreshed the chat, the butterflies persisting. This blank profile felt like destiny, a feeder who understood the depths of their desires. Little did he know, the story was just beginning.