Piggy - Caleb Part 2

Chapter 1

“Gonna eat a lot for me tonight, piggy?”

The words landed with a squeeze of Caleb’s ass, firm enough that he felt it through his jeans. Yasmine’s grin stretched wide and wicked as she leaned in against him, clutching his side like she owned him while they strolled the short stretch of pavement from the parking lot to the pub’s door.

Caleb smiled back, though it came with an instinctive glance around them. The air was damp from a recent drizzle, and the narrow street was scattered with a few late-night pedestrians, many with their hoods pulled up, chatting with others, no one paying them any attention. It was the kind of anonymity he counted on when she got handsy like this.

“Of course,” he said, his voice quiet, almost casual.

“Good,” Yasmine answered, giving his ass one last satisfied pat, her palm lingering for a beat as if to stake her claim. “You know how much I hate when you’re shy.”

She pouted up at him with an exaggerated sweetness, but her eyes betrayed her. Behind that soft curve of her lips was a pointedness that said ‘don’t you dare,’ or maybe, ‘you know better.’

And he did know better.

He knew exactly how these outings typically went. Yasmine wasn’t shy about what she wanted from him; she never was. She liked to be in control, to set the pace and the tone. She was intense, overwhelming even. Someone who could take a single whim and press it into every inch of your life until it became part of you. A feedist through and through, and proud of it.

It was why he liked her so much. Most of the time.

Caleb slid his arm around her waist as they reached the entrance, pulling her closer so that, just before they crossed the threshold into the warmth of the pub, he could murmur in her ear, “I’ll eat whatever you want.” A playful, teasing offering.

Yasmine’s lips curved as a glint of mischief sparked to life in her wide, doe-like eyes. That look made Caleb falter inside for a second, wondering if giving her that much room to play was the smartest move. Yasmine had a tendency to get carried away, and Caleb had a tendency to let her.

But before that thought could even settle, she tilted her face up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, her hand sliding naturally from his side down to rest on his belly. The doubt slipped away as her palm flattened there, giving his middle a fond little pat.

The lights inside the pub were dim and low. A soft amber glow spilled from the wall sconces and pooled against the exposed brick just enough to make the rustic hole in the wall feel cozy. Small tables pressed close together, the faint scent of ale and fried food thick in the air, and conversation rose and fell in the background.

Yasmine led the way between the tables, nimble in her boots, while Caleb followed close behind, careful with every step. “Excuse me,” he murmured here and there, voice low and sheepish whenever the swing of his hips or the round edge of his gut brushed up against a chair or a table corner. The spaces between tables were tighter than they looked, and he was bigger than he often noticed.

He tried his best to make himself smaller, shifting to his side, shoulders hunched just a bit, shuffling through with slow movements so as not to knock into anyone’s pint. But no matter how careful he was, there was no ignoring how much space he took up these days. It was something he still hadn’t gotten used to—the drag of new heft that clung to him, that slow, constant awareness of his size. The truth was, he was still growing too steadily to ever really settle into it. Not that he minded.

For years, putting on weight had been an uphill battle. Back when he first started trying to gain, he’d gone at it blind, hurling himself into the process with nothing but enthusiasm. He ate whatever he could, as much as he could manage, watching videos, reading advice, piecing together scraps of information about something that felt so new and strange at the time. But his body had been stubborn. Maybe it was a high metabolism, maybe he just didn’t know what he was doing. But for three years, he’d only managed to put on barely forty pounds.

It was something, sure, but nowhere near what he’d imagined. Spread out over that much time, it barely showed. It wasn’t the transformation he’d dreamed about when he first started. No sudden heaviness, no obvious difference in the mirror, just a slow, creeping change that no one but him seemed to notice.

Eventually he’d chalked it up to naivety. Gaining, he realized, wasn’t the easy indulgent fantasy he’d thought it would be. It was slow, tedious work. At least, that’s what he believed.

Until he met Yasmine.

Caleb hadn’t really considered the idea of having a feeder at first. He had chatted with a few, but that wasn’t what had drawn him in. What hooked him was the fantasy, the slow burn of watching himself change, and others watching too. But Yasmine had changed all that.

On the few occasions he’d worked up the nerve to post a shy, half-lit photo of himself on feedist platforms, most people left him praise-filled, supportive words. Compliments and encouragement. They were sweet, but safe, easy to ignore. But Yasmine’s weren’t.

Where others were gentle, she was sharp. Blunt. A little rude. She had no qualms about teasing him, degrading him, poking right at the places that made him squirm. And naturally, those words had drawn him in, in a way no praise ever had.

He found himself looking forward to them. Craving them. Waiting for her name to pop up in the notifications. And eventually, it wasn’t just comments anymore. She’d offered to do encouragement sessions, pushing him a little further each time, coaxing more out of him than he thought possible, her voice in his ear when no one else was around.

But despite all that, despite how close she’d manage to get him without ever being in the same room, he still turned her down, every single time she suggested meeting in person.

He knew it only made sense. They lived in the same city, had the same kinks, and had been talking online for months. But it was one thing online. It was fantasy, a space where he could always close the laptop if things got too real. Meeting her face-to-face was different. It could be too real, too much, too soon. He told himself that, at least.

But with each refusal, he could feel her slipping away. Her patience thinned. Her messages lost some of their spark. She wasn’t cruel about it, but he could tell. If he didn’t take the leap, she’d stop asking. So, eventually, he gave in.

They met at a local diner she’d been wanting him to try, a place she swore had the best pie in the state.

“Hey, piggy,” she’d said the moment she saw him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her smile was coy, radiant, and utterly sure of itself.

And hearing that word—piggy—fall from her lips in real life, in real time, in a crowded diner for others to hear, and with no screen between them, something in him just… shifted. It hit like a jolt to the chest. Right then and there, he knew.

He was hers.

And by the glint in her eye, she knew it too. Everything he thought he understood about her from their virtual encounters turned out to be only the faintest shadow of what she was like in person. Whatever lines he thought existed between fantasy and reality, she erased them in no time.

And in the year and a half since that first meeting, she had transformed him. Under her watchful eye, her relentless encouragement, he’d packed on more than double the weight he’d managed on his own.

Now, at roughly 320 pounds, he carried every pound like a monument to her influence. Theirs was an open relationship, at least on paper. But when it came to his gaining, she was wholly, obsessively committed to it. And, as he had learned, so was he.

“Yas!”

The shout cut through the low hum of conversation, drawing both Caleb and Yasmine’s attention toward the back corner of the pub. Maddie stood there, one of Yasmine’s closest friends, waving both arms high over her head with exaggerated enthusiasm. Stuart and Toby’s familiar faces stood next to her.

Yasmine’s eyes lit up. She returned the wave and immediately took off ahead, weaving through the tables with ease. Caleb trailed behind her, slower, careful not to bump into anyone as he navigated the tight walkways.

“Hey!” Yasmine called out as she reached the group, arms already open. She exchanged hugs and cheek kisses in quick succession, radiating energy as usual.

“Sorry we’re a little late,” she said brightly, tossing a hand toward Caleb, who was just arriving behind her. “Caleb couldn’t find anything to wear.” She laughed as she said it, voice teasing, eyes dancing.

Caleb felt the flush rise to his cheeks almost immediately.

There it was, she was already getting started. He hadn’t even sat down yet and she was already calling attention to him. To his size.

As expected, their friends’ eyes flicked toward him, taking him in. His broad frame, the way his t-shirt clung to his stomach and rode just slightly up along the hem. His belly jutted out round and prominent, straining the fabric, and the ever-growing love handles at his sides didn’t leave much to the imagination. His jeans, stretched and snug around his thick thighs and softer hips, didn’t help either.

Yasmine hadn’t lied. Throwing together a decent going-out outfit was always a challenge. Lately, he seemed to outgrow something every time he opened his closet. Shirts that used to hang comfortably clung tight across his gut or refused to stay put over his belly. Buttons gaped, seams strained, and anything remotely fitted became a gamble.

Still, he hadn’t known they were actually late. That part, clearly, had just been orchestrated by Yasmine. She was a master at drawing attention exactly where she wanted it.

“And this is what you came up with?” Stuart, Maddie’s partner, asked, his tone light and teasing as he looked Caleb up and down, eyes lingering on the stretched t-shirt and faded jeans.

Before Caleb could come up with a response, Toby stepped in beside Stuart and clapped a hand on Caleb’s shoulder.

“Hey, have some respect for The Cure,” he said, nodding toward the band graphic on Caleb’s chest. “This here is fine attire.” He said it with a grin, his voice mock-serious.

“I like it,” Maddie added quickly, sliding in to Caleb’s defense. “It’s so… alternative.”

“Spell alternative,” Toby shot back instantly, turning his smirk on her.

Maddie batted her eyes with a scoff, clearly offended, and turned to Stuart as if expecting backup. He just chuckled and gave Toby a nudge, silently urging him to behave as he guided Maddie toward their seats.

Caleb laughed softly under his breath and dapped Toby up in greeting before following everyone to the table. But in that brief moment, just before Toby turned around, Caleb caught the way his friend’s eyes flicked down and back up. A quick, discreet once-over. Not judging exactly. Just… noticing.

And that was enough to make Caleb acutely aware again of how tightly his stomach was pushing against the soft cotton of his shirt, the way his middle surged out in all directions no matter how he shifted.

Caleb and Toby had been friends for as long as he could remember. If someone asked him outright, he would still probably call Toby his best friend without hesitation. The truth, though, was that it had felt a little less like that these past several months. They still talked, still hung out when they could, but something had shifted. It was easier to chalk it up to time, work, life all pulling them in different directions, but Caleb knew deep down that wasn’t all of it. That was just the excuse he told himself.

The real difference was Yasmine.

Toby and Yasmine didn’t clash openly. There weren’t fights, no big blow-ups or confrontations, but there was an unmistakable current of tension whenever the two of them shared a space. It was the kind of unspoken mutual dislike that made the air around them stiff, a silent agreement to just keep out of each other’s way. Don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.

And it was a bummer. Caleb wanted to believe that it wasn’t a big deal, that they’d both keep the peace for his sake, and so far, they had. But he couldn’t pretend it didn’t weigh on him, that invisible wall separating two of the closest people in his life.