Chapter 1

I can feel above my head, in a little puff of warm air that makes my hair shift, each of your sweet, sleeping breaths. I have curled myself so tightly to your chest, a thigh inserted between your legs, my lips pressed to the slight line which used to lead down towards the hard muscle of your torso and chiselled abs, and I am sure that you must feel the tickle of my dark lashes below your nipple as I peer upwards from beneath them – picking out the soft salt and pepper of your beard in the muddy, dullness of winters early morning light. Your features are soft, gentle as you sleep soundly but I can feel the strength of your arms locking me tightly to you. For all the times that we have dreamt sweetly of one another, it is as if that even in sleep you have been reluctant to let me go. There is a gentleness there, but wrapped in your strong arms, tells me all that we can not say. It is as if simply holding me is not quite enough and instead you have to feel every ounce that I am pressed into your – now more considerable – ounces. Intertwined; minds, body and soul. I know your secrets, and you know mine. For there are times wherein I have been your strong, dominant feeder wishing to push your boundaries and take control of your fantasy… and then stolen moments like this. An almost stolen moment, wherein that feeling of being held so close, I am somehow more awake than I have ever been. A butterfly held within their cocoon, beautiful and admired, but somehow feeling delicate. To be safe. Protected. And I know, that at every moment I can have with you I want you to wrap these arms around me, and to never let go.

This closeness is overtaken only by the feeling inside me; brought once again when I was held tightly by you – although tighter still. You’re probably the lightest you’ve been in a while, and I add probably as if I don’t know your exact weight post every stuffing we have done, when your body is made heavy by the roundness of a swollen belly, and yet I was aware of your weight baring down onto me as if I could feel you doubled. I am pressing myself up into you, as you bare down onto me as if I want more, as if I can get more of you. The twists, and turns of our bodies wrapped in anguine pile, as I feel your stomach fill and round with deep breath and your body twitch and pulse. I’m still warm from you, drawn from the hardening sensation the throbbing I felt as you – the spreading warmth throwing me into the throws of my own pleasure… as if I hadn’t minutes ago been crying your name once more, insisting that I couldn’t take this indulgence and hedonism that you brought me much longer. You have truly adored me.

And I feel you lie heavier still, face buried into the swirls of my lustrous waves so that now, as it falls around my shoulders wrapped up in you, I can still smell you. The warm smell of your love, and sweat. The fresh, clean scent of your body having worked hard. Your smooth skin to my softness. You took each of my senses. You have filled me up… in every way.
I feel entirely, wonderfully lucky to be laid beside you. Even in the silent hours, listening to your breathing, bodies tired and sleepy from the cocktail of pleasure from which we have so keenly drank. Intoxicated. I could wax and wane on how you please, and not do this feeling justice. Mostly. I know. I know, I’m yours. Heart and soul.

I whisper it quietly, knowing that in your waking state you may not even hear the words, "I'm yours."

I close my eyes, trying to savour the moment as you, stir beside me feeling you swaddle me closer pressing me to the insistent pressing of your lust, which I never rebuff. I press myself to your contours, the rush of excitement that comes with pressing myself so intimately to you. Eager even in my exhaustion for you to savour these moments together. I crawl up the bed, brushing my lips to your warm skin, as II wrap my hands around your neck – fingers finding the little knot of your shoulder blades. Pressing. Rubbing. Extracting a low moan of gratification from you as I feel your body relax to me. A further indulgence of you that delights me.

"A week from now," your soft words pause for a groan I can't contain, "and I might not be able to hold you like this. I might be too round to get this close."

I smile at the challenge- the fantasy that we might grow you so hugely.

"Double in size would only double my delight" I purr

"Double?" You raise an eyebriw as it sceptical, but I feel the twitch of excitment that stirs beliw your waistline, "are you sure you want me ao big?"

"Oh, that will only be the start. My sweet slim lover, I will feed you until you're Double that again. Double yourself now. . Double me so that you weigh me down. I want to feel you fit to me like a puzzle piece...Double yourself in 50 pounds, 100 pounds.. as long as I get to fill you a little more each time."

Tenderly, you incline my head and shower me with soft kisses. And I find us pressed together, intertwined once more. From breastbone, to the tips of our toes. I need myself against you. You press your thigh between my legs; the strong muscles there working their way as you push me down. An intrusive, intimate kiss, pulsing with passion until I feel you almost grind to me. Rubbing across my pelvis so that I may feel the growing bump of your hardness. Pulling away only for you to you watch, the rosy pink flush creep its way from the pale flesh of my breasts, stroking my neck, to the sharp contours of my cheeks. My sweet, sweet lover. Even before our hedonism begins you are intent on feasting with indulgence. An indulgence of pleasure.

It's your name on my lips in the throws of my own need, spurred on by the thought of you hugely over swollen. Filled not only full but over full... stuffed.

I find I am panting as you lay back, and I settle myself so that I am laid flat atop of you, head in the centre of your chest, fingers tracing down the bumps of your ribs, pinching only for a moment at the lingering softness billowing from your hips. A softness that I have grown.
I fit entirely on you at this point; for your body is strong, and broad from days working hard, and adventures in the wilderness.


In turn your hands tangle themselves in the lengths of my hair, stroking idly against the small of my back as you do. Your fingers linger at the base of my spine, gently stroking the soft, naked skin and drawing me into you. It's such a small touch. But I feel myself give; wanting more of you. I want to be closer as if I could squish myself into you and become one. My movement seems to tell you and I feel you hold me closer still. Lifting me a little so that I'm held securely.

Its your turn to murmur, "I'm yours. Feed me. As you please. All the more as you please l, actually. When I say I'm full dont stop. You decide. I'm yours."

I find I'm smiling at the turn of my words, whispered in waking.

I fit entirely on you at this point; for your body is strong, and broad from days working hard, and adventures in the wilderness. My waist winds itself inwards, so slight that at its winding you might find you able to wrap your hands and have those long fingers almost meet. Wherein your body widens. Will there be a point that you are so wide, that in our roles reversed, your swollen belly will seep over mine.. I can feel you empty. Flabby now as I take handfuls of your sides. Stretched out from bloating. Afterall I did demand a two gallon gut. And here we are. Surpassed…


You tease. A strong lover... for now. Soon to be stuffed, and then who will hold who? Or will we both have to hold your belly?

How many calories will it take until you can't bare me to lie upon you like this? When the swell od your overfed tummy distends inches and inches; until you're swollen up and moaning - begging for my touch with reddened, pink Skin that seems to stretch and shine. All in one craving the gentle caressing of my touch, but at the same time so heightened to the prickling ache of being so tightly filled that you can barely take even the most gentle touch...

All in one wanting me sat astride the great summit of your girth, but knowing that the inevitable rock of my hips that will come as it pleases me will be too much for you.

I'm rubbing your belly as I tell of this. Its almost a comfort now. This is where I would usually feel you full and firm when you over eat for me. This is the first place that swells outwards into a ball... when your little pot belly grows full for me; from this slim frame. Because although softer. It is still a slim frame.

I look down now. Your body pressed against mine. It is as if I missing the swollen belly that sometimes presses between us. You seem to know what I'm thinking... you put your hands on your lower belly; shaking at the little softness I've put there. The pounds of my love and adoration that have slowly crept on.

You still aren't fat... just... a little softer. To my eyes only which search for signs of your indulgence... which know every inch of you. But it makes me moan to see you touch yourself so. And suddenly I'm gripping you harder; with more urgency... my kisses are deeper... my body warm against yours... I feel your keen fingers teasing me a little. Tracing up the inside of my thigh and making me groan in anticipation but within moments my anticipation is turned to a content giggle, feeling you pull me closer still. I know this game. Teasing. Enjoying your hold on me.

I am yours to please.

"Do you think you're ready?" the question is as much a tease, a jibing dare as it is a concern. I know how you want to impress. I know that in the coming weeks you'll want - you'll insist - on pleasing me. You won't give in... Even if your buttons do.

You know I'm thinking of the times you have filled your belly for me. Of times you have stuffed. And yet still you ask. You want to hear the words.

My first commandment. "Are you ready to eat for me?"

As if the cases aren't packed for our week away. As if I haven't spent the weeks heading up to this insisting that youu let me press the funnel to your lips at least once a week... Just a few litres. Massaging the tight, pink mass that grows on your body - skin stretched tight over a bowling ball of a belly. Wegihed down by greed. One inch at a time... although I know you want more. As if I haven't picked this particular get away, knowing the kitchen will suit well... A feast for a king doesn't cut it. This. This can only be described as a gorging of a greedy, glutted, hog. As if |I haven't packed light - teasing that you won't need many clothes and filling your case with food. Packinig it full... needing you to carry it out to the car with difficulty because its just too cumbersum for me to lift.

A big belly that will weigh you down. Us down.