Goodbye, Little Pig

Chapter 1 - Unexpected Match

Even though I'm not used to writing female-led feeder stories with male feedees, I wanted to try something different to celebrate my fiftieth story published on this site. I tried to give this story a unique, more intimate and psychological feel, while still maintaining all the intensity of the genre. I hope you enjoy it and that it provides a pleasant time. Happy reading, everyone!

---

My name is Marco. I just turned thirty and have been living for three months in a small one-bedroom apartment in Rho, on the western outskirts of Milan. The building is one of those anonymous ones with gray facades, a half-empty parking lot, and the smell of kebab and fried food drifting up from the ground floor every evening. I work remotely as a backend programmer for a delivery startup, ironic, I know, and my days blur together between bright monitors, cold coffee, and compulsive food orders that arrive in warm bags at my door.

I'm a virgin. I don't say it with pride, but I don't feel too much shame about it anymore. I'm simply... invisible. Not ugly, not handsome. Just average: messy brown hair, plain-framed glasses, narrow shoulders, and a sedentary little belly that I hide under oversized hoodies. My self-esteem has been in the gutter for years.

That evening, like so many others, I was scrolling through the apps with a bored thumb. Tinder, Bumble, Happn, Pure... I had them all. Almost zero matches, and when they did come, the profiles left me sighing in disappointment. Then my phone vibrated.

*New match.*

I opened the chat without expecting anything. The profile name was «Lara_89».

The first photo took my breath away.

She was imposing. Seated on a bamboo lounge chair with the turquoise sea of Bali behind her, she wore a light floral dress that struggled to contain her curves. Her face was round and full, with soft, plump cheeks that looked made to be cupped in someone's hands, full lips curved in a natural but knowing smile. Dark brown, wavy, voluminous hair cascaded over her broad shoulders. Her short neck melted into a generous bust, with heavy breasts straining the fabric. Her soft, almost nonexistent waist widened into broad, rounded hips. Her arms were full and rounded, her thighs thick and powerful where the dress parted. Everything about her was curved, soft, continuous. She occupied the space with regal naturalness.

She wasn't "fat" in the cruel way people usually say it. She was *abundant*. Heavily, irresistibly sexy.

My heart pounded in my ears. I hate making the first move. Still, I typed.

Marco: Hey Lara... sorry if I'm bothering you. I saw you're in Bali, it looks like a dream. I'm in Rho, Milan. Beautiful photo, by the way. Really.

I sent it without rereading, already bracing for silence.

Instead, she replied eight minutes later.

Lara: Hey Marco. You're not bothering me at all, sweetie. Yeah, I'm still here enjoying the sun and the amazing food. Rho, huh? We're practically neighbors. What an interesting coincidence...

From that moment, everything started.

We chatted for hours that first night. She never messaged first, but every time I sent something, her reply came back calm and smooth, as if she had all the time in the world. I learned she worked for herself, loved to travel, eat well, and, above all, "spoil those who deserve it." I didn't fully understand what she meant by that, but it was just one of many things she said. She always seemed eager to respond.

On the third night, I found the courage to ask about her past experiences. I was nervous, fingers sweaty on the phone.

Marco: Can I ask you a personal question? ...I don't want to be invasive. It's just that you seem like someone who's lived a lot... while I haven't had any experiences. I'm thirty and I've never... well, I've never had a girlfriend. Or anything. I'm a virgin. You probably think I'm pathetic.

She replied after a few minutes, but this time the message was longer.

Lara: Oh Marco... Do you know how cute that is? It's not pathetic. It's sexy. A lot of guys your age are already cynical, bored, full of demands. You're still untouched. Pure. I love that so much. I bet all kinds of thoughts are spinning in that head of yours while you look at my photos, right? Tell me the truth. Do I turn you on?

My cheeks burned. I answered hesitantly.

Marco: ...Yes. I look at them. A lot. You're beautiful, Lara. I don't know how to say it without sounding stupid. You have such a plush, voluptuous body... Sexy. I can't stop looking at your photos.

Lara: Good boy. I like it when you're honest. Most guys give generic compliments or pretend not to notice how big I am. But you really look at me. You like soft women, don't you? The ones with a soft belly, thick thighs, arms that jiggle a little when they move... Does the idea of sinking into all this flesh turn you on, sweetie?

I was speechless for almost a minute. My heart hammered.

Marco: God... yes. It turns me on so much. I didn't think I'd like it... The idea of... being with a girl who has some meat on her.

Lara: Oh, I know I'm fat, don't worry... Good. I like that you're already so honest. Because I don't play at being a shy girl. When I get back to Milan, I want to see you. I want to look you in the eyes while you blush like you're blushing right now. And I want to see just how hungry you really are. If we do this, you know you'd be on the bottom, right? Is that okay with you?

I nodded in silence.

The week went by like that. Every evening, after my usual pizza in front of the PC while rain fell on the highway outside, we'd message for hours. She controlled the rhythm effortlessly. She knew staying inside the app kept me on edge, I didn't have her number, no other contacts. Every silence of a few hours made my stomach tighten with the fear that she'd disappear forever, knowing I'd never find another like her.

One night around eleven, while rain pounded hard against the windows, I wrote to her bolder than usual.

Marco: Lara... I don't want to sound weird but... your photos are driving me crazy. You're so feminine, so... much. I can't explain it. Can I call you chubby? The other day you called yourself that. Well, if all chubby girls are like you, I'm crazy about chubby girls.

She replied almost immediately this time.

Lara: That's perfect, baby. I said fat, but chubby works too. I like the idea of towering over you. Of watching you disappear between my thighs, of feeling you breathe against my belly while I hold you in place. You know, I used to play certain games online... now I'm looking for something real. Someone to mold slowly. To feed. To make dependent. Do you think you can be that someone, Marco?

I swallowed hard. I didn't understand.

Marco: I don't know... but I want to try. Really.

Lara: Good boy. I land at Malpensa Sunday evening. I'll message you when I'm home. And Marco... don't disappear. I know where you live, sweetie. You shouldn't give out your address so easily, treasure.

I set the phone down with trembling hands. Outside, orange streetlights lit up the black puddles. Inside me, for the first time in years, something warm, dark, and irresistible had awakened. I wanted her, only her, and I was willing to do anything.

I didn't know yet how much my life was about to change.

But one thing was certain: Lara wasn't just any girl.

And I no longer wanted to stay in my small, safe, empty routine.