Chapter 1

I know what you’re thinking about. What you haven't been able to stop thinking about since it happened, the only thing that’s been occupying your thoughts every waking minute ever since your girlfriend showed you who you really are.

You’re thinking of the night you finally let go. The night you allowed who you really are, what you really want, to finally be exposed. The night you finally let her really, truly stuff you.

Everything started off normally, didn't it? You had no idea when you sat down at the dinner table that night that it would mark the beginning of a life of unfettered gluttony, the life you know you were always meant to live. You had no idea you would end your night a stuffed, panting, helpless mess too full to move. You didn't know about your lover’s plan to stuff you to your absolute maximum capacity, to finally show you the true extent of your greed and turn you into the piggy you were meant to be.

She got your favorite, right? Pizza, although she ordered a bit more than she normally would for just the two of you. Her excuse was flimsy, she claimed she wanted two different toppings and couldn't decide, but you just took it in stride, didn't you? Even then, you must have had a tiny premonition of what was going to happen to you. What was going to be done to you.

You probably felt a tiny glimmer of excitement seeing all that food on the kitchen table, your subconscious mind already wanting you to gorge yourself until you couldn't take anymore. You didn't say anything, of course. You didn't even allow the thought to fully form in your mind, but that feeling, that pull that you’ve always tried your best to push down and ignore, it was there, wasn't it? Even before your girlfriend finally confessed her true intentions.

You both ate a piece, making small talk as usual, but then she fixed you with a look you were only recently starting to become familiar with. You were both aware of your mutual interest in feedism, the way you’ve both always had less than typical reactions towards depictions of weight gain in media or stories, but you’d explored the concept very little. Sure she’d fed you once or twice, sure, you too both got worked up when you said phrases like “I’m so full”, but things were always sanitized, always still well within the realm of normalcy. You thought that she was only mildly interested, that there was no way that thoughts of you piling on weight and chubbing out in front of both of your eyes ran through her mind as constantly as they ran through yours.

But the look in her eyes that day was different, huh? She told you she just wanted to try something. That she wanted to feed you instead of you eating for yourself. You’d only had one piece, you were still hungry, and the thought of her feeding you again was a pleasant one, so you agreed. You thought it was hot when she stood up and fed you your first bite, you found yourself wishing it was something you two did more often.

You put away your second piece with ease, then your third. You noticed that she was feeding you a little faster, a little more aggressively, really shoving the food in your mouth instead of giving you the time to take a bite, but you didn't think too much of it. You actually sort of liked it, and despite the fact that the massive bites were leaving your mouth crammed full, you took it without complaint, chewing steadily while your girlfriend told you how good you were doing, told you what a good eater you were for her.

Then the fourth piece was finished and she immediately picked up a fifth, bringing it to your mouth without regard for the fact that four pieces was usually your max. You ate that piece as well, a bit more slowly than the others despite her eager feeding, and when she reached for a 6th, you grabbed her wrist to stop her.

What did you say to her again? “I think it's a little too much babe?” And you were shocked when she just laughed and grabbed the piece anyway, shocked as if you didn't see the look in her eyes and know that today would be the day she took things too far, the day she showed you just how badly she needed to see your body grow. You ate the sixth piece in stunned silence, already beginning to feel pangs of overfullness, then attempted to stop her again when she reached for the seventh.

How excited did you get when you told you she wasn’t going to stop? When she told you that you had no control over the situation, that you were going to eat until she was done with you? She could sense it right away. She knew that your protests were feigned, that you would just go right on eating because deep down it's what you really wanted. What you’ve always wanted.

You’ve always wanted to succumb to your greed, you’ve always wanted to bloat yourself up until you were a tubby caricature of your former fitness but you never allowed yourself to, always enjoyed your little fetish in small increments that you felt would have no impact on your real life. But all those little instances added up, didn't they? All those weight gain stories you read, those feeding videos you couldn't stop watching, all the times you ate a little more than you knew you should just to feel how tight your stomach got, it all got to your head. Those ideas wormed their way deeper and deeper into your brain until they became your desires, desires you were lustfully frantic to bring into your reality.

That's when she started to get rough, wasn't it? When she called you a good little piggy and made you eat faster and faster, when she stopped giving you time to chew and instead forced bite after bite into your greedy mouth. You told her you couldn't take anymore, that this whole thing had gone too far, and that just spurred her on, just made her pick up slice after greasy slice and force it to your overfed lips.

You actually thought she’d be done when the first pizza was gone, remember? You were already groaning and more bloated than you could ever remember being, your little gut rock hard with the volume of food that she’d packed into you. She was so gentle with you then. At least, for a little while. She rubbed your swollen belly and told you what a good job you’d done for her, how big you were going to get if you kept letting her feed you like this. But then she gave that growing belly a hard smack, didn't she? And while you burped and moaned from the sudden pressure on your already overstuffed middle, she opened the second box.

You protested, but your protests were getting so, so weak. Not just because you were getting too full to fight back, but also because you were starting to like it. You were starting to want it, even though you refused to open your mouth for the next piece she held up.

She grabbed your chin to force your mouth open and pushed it down your throat anyway, the sexually charged intensity of her actions mounting with every calorie you put away. She fed you another piece, then another, and finally you leaned back in your chair completely spent, your belly rising and falling with your heavy breaths and your face covered in tomato sauce.

Why did you even ask her to stop at that point? You knew she wouldn't, you knew she loved seeing you beached on your chair like that unable to move, but more than that, you knew you loved it too. You knew that things would never be the same, that after that feeding you would never again feel satisfied with a normal-sized meal.

Even as you protested, even as you fought, your brain was already adapting to the piggish new habits you knew you’d be developing. You kept moaning that you couldn't take another bite, yet you kept opening your mouth, being good and obeying every time your insistent girlfriend gave you an instruction.

“You’re almost done, baby,” she’d promised as you worked your tired jaw, making quick work of the cheesy, fattening triangles of dough. When she stopped with three slices left in the box you sighed with relief, but secretly, in an unexplored, twisted part of your psyche, you were a bit disappointed. You were painfully full, and yet a part of you still wanted more, still wanted her to feed you until everything was gone. You were in a near delirium of fullness, unable to open your mouth without letting out a loud burp or a low moan of agony, but she was closing the box. This was all over, even though you’d privately wished it wasn't.

Until she came back. That’s when you learned she was as deeply committed to this fantasy as you were, that the two of you were equally embroiled in your illogical lust, equally entangled by the web of want that brought you to that night in the first place. Equally obsessed with blowing you up until you were unrecognizably fat, until you had a rounded, jiggling, globe of a belly that you can no longer hide. Until everyone knows what a greedy piggy you are. You both want that. And in that moment, your girlfriend decided you were both going to have it.

The pint of vanilla ice cream you didn't even know she’d bought (much less left on the table to thaw while you two ate dinner) was far less unexpected than the other special treat she came back toting. A funnel. You knew what she was thinking right away, you’d watched it a million times from your favorite feedees on the internet, but you knew you couldn't take it.

You tried to protest and only interrupted yourself with burps, tried to struggle to your feet but found your attempts jostled the contents of your packed belly and made it too painful and too difficult to move. You couldn't escape. She forced the spout of the funnel in your mouth and began to pour the cold, creamy liquid despite your pleas for mercy, for a break from the caloric onslaught. You knew how badly you wanted it. You couldn't have denied it if you tried, and you did try. But you were too full to stop her.

When the ice cream hit your tongue you only had a split second to enjoy the taste before it began filling you up fuller than you ever even thought possible, filling you past the point of your capacity and into the realms of torture. Every time she paused the flow to let you breathe you were gasping for air, both hands pressed to your ever-growing gut in an effort to reduce the swell, to provide some source of comfort or respite from the pain. None came, and she continued to pour the makeshift milkshake down your throat until she was satisfied.

You were so big. Bigger than you’d ever been, bigger than you ever thought was possible from a single stuffing, even in your darkest and wildest fantasies.

When she asked you if you liked it you didn't even have the energy to lie, did you? You just nodded and kept moaning.

She laughed again and went right back to rubbing your belly, didn't she? She wanted to feel the fruits of all of her hard work. She grinned at you devilishly while her hands worked their way across your body, your moans now originating from both her touch and the pressing weight of your midsection.

She promised you that you were gonna do it all again soon, didn't she? And that’s why you’ve barely been able to focus, why you can hardly think of anything else. You can't wait for more. You can't wait to get bigger. You can't wait for that chubby little belly to swell into a flabby gut, and neither can she.

Like I said, I know what you’re thinking about, but soon, any random person you pass on the street will too. Your sick little fixation on food will be evident all over your body for everyone to see. They’ll watch you waddle down the sidewalk, they’ll see you jiggle and wobble from the slightest movement, watch your second chin become a third, and they'll know everything they need to know about you.

They'll know how greedy you are. They’ll know how much you wanted to grow. They’ll know you get turned on by taking things too far, it’ll be the first thing they think when they see you. This little habit is gonna make you massive. Your proficient little feeder of a girlfriend is gonna bloat you so full, so often that your weight is gonna skyrocket. And I know you’re already thinking about the next time.








*I hope you enjoyed this weight gain POV! This was such a fun commission to write and I really love knowing that real gainers get to see themselves in my stories and enjoy my work, it's so rewarding for me! I love incorporating all the real details that people ask me to mention (like their favorite foods, names they like to be called, situations they want to be in, ways they want to be teased/encouraged, and even pictures of their body type so I can better describe it) I feel like it adds another layer of immersion! If you're interested in your own personalized commission, you can check the about me section of my profile here on FF for more information. Thanks so much for reading:)*