Chapter 1: Methods

He recognized her from her photo when she came in. She was cute. Tall, with her brown hair in a messy bun. She had on a pair of cheap sunglasses and a billowy blouse tucked into an expensive looking pair of loose cut distressed jeans. Her shirt was tucked in and, though her clothes fit well, she had a modest muffin top. Her belly line was visible beneath the waistband. She had wide hips, wider than he might have guessed, and a chunky ass, too. She took off her glasses and looked around. He waved her over to join him in line. She smiled nervously and walked over.

"Sam?" She asked nervously.

"The one and only." He smiled and extended a hand for her to shake. She shook it, tentatively and tried to return the smile. Sam was even cuter in person. He was tall, with a warm smile that reached his hazel eyes. His messy brown hair gave him a laid-back charm. Sam wasn’t fat, but presented a slightly husky build. He was wearing a black T-shirt under an open flannel, his own rounded belly pushing through the open shirt halves. Dalia supposed he probably weighed close to what she did, despite being about 5 inches taller.

"Dalia. Nice to actually meet you."

"The pleasure is mine."

"Ha, well, we'll see about that."

They waited somewhat awkwardly in line before finally reaching the front. When the barista asked them for their order Dalia hesitantly ordered a medium vanilla latte.

"It's my treat," Sam interjected. "Why not make it a large?"

She nodded "yeah, ok a large then."

"Do you want a snack? How about a chocolate croissant? They're the best here."

"Sure, yeah. That sounds good."

Sam turned to the barista. "Make that two large vanilla lattes and two chocolate croissants, please."

The barista rang in the order. Sam gestured to a table, and Dalia went to claim it while Sam awaited their order. He hoped a snack would help her relax. She seemed too nervous.

They had been chatting online for a while. They'd matched based on their mutual interest in fat appreciation, and had spent many hours texting and swapping pictures.

"I don't know if I'm really a feedee," she had admitted via text, "since I've never had a feeder. And I don't know if I really WANT to gain weight...but I really into stuffing myself and it's so hot to me when my belly is round and full. I just want to eat and eat and eat some more.”

"It sounds like you're a feedee who needs to be fed to me," Sam had cajoled. "You should let me help you experiment."

"Yeah right. Maybe. We'll see."

And so they'd gone on for a few weeks sending each other smutty messages. At night, when Dalia would get anxious and aroused, she'd doordash a big order of fast food and eat as much as she could. Sam would wake up to a series of text messages,

"Ok. I might have made a mistake."

"Ok. I am committing to the mistake."

"Oh man this was definitely a mistake."

"Holy shit I am so full. God I am so hilariously fat."

accompanied by pictures of her bloated belly, the aftermath of her late night fast food binge. At first he’d scan the pictures, trying to spot the remnants of her feast, his trained eye scanning the background for fry containers or cups that might betray just how much she had eaten. She was too shy in the early days to tell him just what she had eaten.

“Too much,” she’d text, and Sam would tally up evidence of two or three fast food value meals.

But Dalia's trust in Sam grew along with her appetite, and she stopped hesitating to share the details of her binges with him. On one particularly exciting night, Dalia sent Sam a video of herself devouring a huge pizza slice, her fingers greasy and her mouth full, her belly visibly distending.

”just started in on pizza number 2. Holy fuck I’m out of control” the accompanying message read.

The late-night binges became a more regular occurrence, with Dalia happily devouring large quantities of food and Sam eagerly encouraging her. Over the course of their three months texting back and forth, she put on about 8lbs.

Fueled by food and fantasy, Dalia became more amenable to Sam’s proposed experiment.

"If you still want to meet up sometime... i might like to try your little experiment. You know. For science."

He had agreed that they both needed to do their part for science, and they setup a coffee shop date to establish their methods.

Sam didn't expect much to come of it. He'd had a few women reach out to him before, and had made big plans for most of them. Sometimes, he'd get to act on those plans, and sometimes he'd never hear from them again. But Dalia seemed a bit different. She was eager, if nervous, and desperate for someone to appreciate her in a fully stuffed state. She wanted to share the experience. And she seemed to want him, too.

"So...how should we do this?" She blurted out as he brought the coffees and croissants to the table.

"Cutting right to the chase, I see."

"Sorry. I'm nervous."

"I can tell. Relax. It's just me. Sam. We've been doing this for months."

"We've been hypothetically doing this for months."

"Hypothetically? I think there are 8 pounds that would say it's been more than hypothetical."

"Well, be that as it may..." she said, smiling and blushing.

"Be that as it may," he agreed "it's ok to feel nervous. I feel nervous, too." Her look softened a bit and she seemed to relax. She took a sip of her coffee and a bite of her croissant.

"It's good. Thanks."

"I took the liberty of requesting whole milk."

"Seriously?"

& quot;Seriously."

"You work fast."

"I have also been known to cut to the chase."

She laughed and he began to outline his plan.

"Ok, here's what I'm thinking. You're new to this and I don't want to freak you out or anything, so let's take it slow. Let's make a standing dinner date one night a week. We can choose where to go and try a few different methods."

"Methods? Sounds complicated."

"Well, I want to see how I can best feed you. I want you to enjoy it so you'll keep letting me do it." He winked. She smiled and nibbled her snack. "So we'll do dinner once a week trying a few different methods...techniques if you prefer...to see what works best for you."

"What about what works for you?"

"Oh everything works for me. As long as I'm watching a pretty woman get a full belly, I'm easy peasy belly squeezy." He chuckled to himself, and she took another bite of her croissant and shot him some side eye. "I apologize. That was totally lame."

"You're adorable."

"Adorable? I'll take it."

She had finished her croissant and was pressing her finger to the paper to lick off the crumbs. He slid his croissant over to her. She blushed, but picked it up and took a large bite.

"So," he continued, "I propose first we try an approach I like to call ‘free range.”

"Free range," she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Free range means that you have complete control over what and how much you eat. No restrictions, no limits. It's all about indulging and exploring your desires."

Dalia's eyes lit up with curiosity. "So, I just eat whatever I want?"

He nodded. "Exactly. We go to the buffet and you load your plate with all your favorite foods. eat like you’d normally eat while I take notes.”

"Eat how I normally would? Or how I eat when I'm trying to get stuffed?"

"However it is when you eat at 3 am when you can't stop texting me because you've eaten so much you can't breathe."

"Ohhh like that," she exaggerated, with a coy smile.

"Yes like that. I want to see how you really eat. It's a little different with you than other women I've fed in the past, so I want to get a good baseline."

"How so?"

"Well, two reasons. First, I know that you stuff yourself with some regularity."

"I wouldn't say regularity..."

"Oh? Would you like to see the literature?" He asked, pointing to his messaging app on his phone.

She waved her hand at him and took another bite "no, I don't need to see the literature... so I am different because I stuff myself sometimes."

"Ok you stuff yourself sometimes... and, well, a lot of the women who ask me to feed them are new to this. They're just getting into the gaining community and they don't really know what they're getting into so they're just young and chubby."

"Oh what, and I'm old and fat?

He laughed "yes, at the ripe old age of 35....no you're not old. But you are mature. And you've been thinking about this for a while, and, honestly, yes, you're already pretty fat."

"I'm not that fat..."

"No but you are pretty fat. Emphasis on the pretty." She rolled her eyes again, but smiled, still nibbling on the croissant and sipping her latte. "You said you've already gained 8 pounds since we started talking. How much have you gained since your re-entree into the weird world of fat fetish?"

"Well, since I reactivated my account and resumed my very occasional habit of stuffing myself," she said with mock seriousness, "I've gained about 25 lbs in about 6 months."

"Not bad," he said with a nod of his head. "I think we can do better, but not bad. But anyway that puts you around 250, right?"

"244 as of this morning" she said through a mouthful of pastry.

"Yeah, that's pretty fat. That's a goal weight for a lot of the gaining women online."

"So did you change your mind then? Am I too fat for you?" She was playing now and he could see she had released some of her inhibition.

"No, but it does mean you'll require a different tactical approach."

"So serious." She said, downing the last of her coffee. He slid his cup to her "no, that's too much caffeine. I'll be wired."

"I thought you might say that. Which is why this one is decaf."

"It is not!"

"It is. I changed it after you sat down."

"You are sneaky."

"Sneaky?" He said laughing. "How about thoughtful? Generous? Gifted with the talent of foresight?"

"Oh yes, all mighty future seer. I can see the headlines: Man predicts fat girl will want more. Very prescient of you." She took the cup.

"What can I say? I have a gift."

"So what about..." she paused to take a long gulp of the lukewarm drink. "What about sex?"

"Right now?"

"Obviously not right now. But you know...after. Is sex part of our experiment?"

"Do you want it to be?"

"Maybe."

He shrugged. "Then maybe it is. Don't get too ahead of it. If it's right and you want to, and I want to, then... you know, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it...presuming it's safe for a wide load."

"Oh? Now I'm a wide load?"

"Well, you will be. When I'm done with you."

"Har har. So when do you want to start?"

"Well, what are you doing tonight?"

She looked a bit surprised, as if she hadn't expected him to follow through. "Well," she said carefully "I don't have any plans."

"Then it's a date. Meet me there at 7?"

"It's a date." She took another long drink of the latte and started to stand up "I've got to go back to work. Thanks for the snack."

"You're welcome," he said, watching her move. He could see her belly had swollen just a bit from the milky coffee and pastries, but she didn't seem uncomfortable. "I look forward to the next one."