Chapter 1

"Come on, baby. Be a good girl for me-you can do it."

He stood over me as I lay sprawled out on the bed, speaking these encouraging words as he held a freshly baked cake in each of his hands. He'd already stuffed me like a hog all night long, feeding me a massive meal fit for a family of ten. Steaks, shrimp, barbecued chicken wings and potato wedges-it was like a fat-girl paradise.

I should have been happy-and I was happy when we started out. Things were starting to get a bit intense, though, and I wasn't sure how much more I'd be able to take.

We had moved the party from the kitchen up to the bedroom, where he had already taken the liberty of laying out a ridiculously plentiful dessert spread. There were cakes, pies, cookies, muffins and pastries-and of course, several gallons of ice cream. How the hell am I going to do this? I thought to myself as I massaged my swollen abdomen. I already felt like I was ready to burst, but the feeding session was far from over. By the intense look burning in his eyes, I could see that he wasn't about to let up on me anytime soon.

"Just give me a second to-huff-catch my breath, babe," I told him as I held onto my big fat belly, gasping for air desperately. "I'm so stuffed already. I feel like-hiccup!-I'm going to burst wide open if I eat one more thing."

"Aww, come on, baby." His tone was soft but firm, sounding as if he might lose patience with me if I resisted. "That's one seriously big belly you've got there-I think you've got plenty of room in there for dessert."

"Ugh! Okay, baby. I'll try," I groaned before letting my tongue come hanging out, hiccuping and panting like an overfed pooch. "I'll do it-hic!-I'll do it for you, baby."

"Aww, does my big fatty need a belly rub?" His tone was teasing and songlike as he stood over me, threatening me with the cake that was far too big for one person to even think about eating all by themselves.

"That would be-braaap!-wonderful," I said, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. "Would you do that for me, babe?"

"I'll tell you what," he said as he bent down and leaned toward me, putting his face in mine, getting so close that I could feel the heat from his breath blowing against my chubby cheeks, "I'll make a deal with you. If you can eat the rest of this entire cake for me, then I'll give you a nice belly rub."

"Really?" I groaned. "I have to eat-hic!-the whole thing?"


"That's the deal, fatty," he said with a smile that could barely contain his laughter, "and don't forget about the rest of the stuff I've got here."

On the table behind him stood an absolute mountain of baked goods. He didn't say as much, but I understood that it was his intention to stuff my belly full with every last crumb on that table. I leaned back in my chair, cocking my head back as I let out another sharp gasp. Looking up at the ceiling, I quickly came to accept the reality that there was no way out of this. This man was my feeder, and I was his feedee. He felt that it was his right to give me a good stuffing, to fatten me up as much as possible, no matter how much it hurt.

Indeed, it was his right-and he was determined to do it.

"Be a good girl and open up wide for me," he said as he dug straight into the cake with his bare hand, pulling out a massive wad of the delicious pink and yellow mush. I did as he wished, and I let my jaw fall open and my tongue to come lolling out. I opened up as wide as I could and allowed him to stuff the first fistful of cake directly into me, practically ramming it down my throat.

"Ooh yeah," he sighed, a look of desire taking over his face. "That's a good fatty-eat up for me, baby. Eat it all up, just for me."

He began to shove handful after heaping handful of the cake into my mouth, stuffing more into me before I'd even swallowed the last mouthful. With each bite, he seemed to pick up speed, cramming it all inside of me as if he were in some kind of race.

"That's it, fatty," he said, encouraging me to keep up the pace, "keep on eating. We're going to fatten you up like a Christmas goose."

Frosting was smeared all over my face as it dripped down onto my huge boobs. My head was spinning and I could see stars flashing in the corner of my eyes as I struggled to breathe. The weight of my overfed stomach pushed against my lungs, made all the worse by my throat being perpetually filled with globs of blueberry pie.

"You ready for more, baby?" He teased me sadistically as he reached for yet another cake. Without warning, he took the entire thing and shoved in my face, making it splatter all over me. Frosting got into my hair, covered my face, and rained down onto my tits and my belly. I was filthy-and he loved it. "Come on, piggy! Eat it up! You know you want it!"

It was almost more than I could handle, but I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't getting turned on as well. For some reason, the thought of being punished and humiliated in this way gets my juices flowing like nothing else. I'm already so big and so fat, and knowing that he is in my life for the sole purpose of making me get fatter-it's a beautiful thing to me.

I feel like my life has a purpose, more than I ever had before. Any goals or ambitions I once had for myself had all been pushed away. The only objective I had now was to eat and get fatter.

Since I was very young, everyone I knew kept trying to force me to change, telling me that I needed to lose weight-to conform to the norm and make myself fit in with everyone else. I never felt like I could measure up to everyone else's expectations of me. The truth was, all I ever really wanted to do with my life is eat; all I ever really wanted to be was fat.

My life changed for the better once I met my feeder. He never tried to make me feel like I needed to be anything other than the fat gluttonous pig that I am. He didn't want to change me, he just wanted to help me optimize my hedonism and to become the best and fattest version of myself. He believed in me when no one else would. Believe me when I say that I will always be grateful to him for that. He means the world to me, and I would do absolutely anything for him-this includes putting my body through agony as I stuff myself beyond the breaking point.

"Come on, fatty-keep going! Show me what a big fat cow you can be!"

He had a bit of a hucow fetish, it would seem. Our feedist play would often see me drifting between being a pig or a cow, depending on his mood. I was fine with either, and I had no problem complying with his every whim.

"Let me hear you," he prodded. "What does a big fat cow sound like?"

MOOOOO! MOOOOO!

"I can't hear you! Louder!"

MMMOOOOO!! MMMMMOOOOOO!!!

"Good girl," he groaned as he continued smearing cake all over me. "Such a big pretty cow-look at these huge udders!" With his free hand, he reached out and grabbed my left tit, making my whole body vibrate and ripple. He then discarded the cake tray he'd been holding and he quickly grabbed for yet another of the giant pink and white frosted cakes, shoving it into my waiting maw, once again splattering globs of icing all over me.

"Suck it all down!" he commanded. "Don't waste a single drop!"