Chapter 1

Martin had always known he was different. At 22, he was an intelligent, introverted young man, thoughtful and reserved, always analyzing the world from a quiet corner. But in that silence, he wrestled with something that made him feel profoundly alone—a secret that he feared would forever separate him from real intimacy. Feederism.
It had taken months of deliberation, of restless nights and failed attempts to rationalize it away, before he finally convinced himself to seek help. Not just any therapist—he had spent days combing through online profiles, scrutinizing their credentials, their philosophies, and, though he hated to admit it, their appearances. And that was how he found her: Lidia.
She was 35, a striking woman with warm eyes and a confident presence. There was something about her that made him feel like he could trust her, even if the thought of actually voicing his concerns to her made his stomach knot. He feared being judged, being labeled, being reduced to something perverse in her eyes. But more than anything, he feared never being able to share this part of himself with someone and, as a result, never experiencing true connection.
The first session was torture. Sitting across from her in the softly lit office, Martin struggled to find words. She was patient, her voice gentle yet firm, coaxing him forward without pressure.
“Tell me, Martin,” she said after he fumbled through vague explanations of his ‘concerns about relationships.’ “What is it that worries you the most?”
He hesitated, fingers gripping the armrests of the chair as if he might anchor himself there. “I... I have certain preferences,” he began cautiously, his throat dry. “Sexual preferences. And I—” He swallowed. “I worry they’ll make it impossible for me to be with someone. That no one would accept me.”
Lidia nodded, her expression unreadable but not unkind. “Sexuality is a complex part of identity. What makes you think yours is something that would push people away?”
He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears. “Because it’s not... normal,” he admitted. “It’s not something people talk about.”
“Normal is a broad term,” she said with a small smile. “But tell me, Martin—do you want to change it, or do you want to understand it?”
That was the real question, wasn’t it? He had spent so long ashamed, fearing his desires would condemn him to a lifetime of secrecy. But did he truly wish to erase them? Or did he simply want to know that he wasn’t alone?
“I don’t know,” he admitted, exhaling shakily. “I just don’t want to be broken.”
Her gaze softened. “You’re not broken, Martin.”
And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to believe it might be true.
Lidia leaned back in her chair, her eyes scanning Martin with quiet intrigue. She had met men like him before—young, uncertain, desperate to be understood. His nervousness only heightened her curiosity. Feederism. It wasn’t entirely foreign to her. She had encountered mentions of it in past studies, heard whispers of it in academic circles, but she had never had a patient who embodied it so sincerely.
“You don’t need to be ashamed, Martin,” she said, tilting her head ever so slightly. “This is a space for honesty.”
He nodded, but his hands remained clenched, his body tense.
“Have you acted on these desires before?” she asked, her voice smooth, controlled.
He hesitated. “No. Not really. I mean... I’ve thought about it. A lot. But I’ve never been with someone who—” He trailed off, his cheeks burning.
“Who understood it” she finished for him.
He nodded, grateful that she had spared him the embarrassment of saying it himself.
Lidia crossed one leg over the other, adjusting her posture with deliberate ease. “Tell me, Martin, what is it about feederism that draws you in?”
His breath hitched. He had imagined this moment so many times—admitting it, laying it bare before someone else. He had feared disgust, ridicule. But Lidia’s expression remained calm, her lips slightly parted as if inviting him to confess more.
“I don’t know,” he said finally. “It’s... it’s the idea of nurturing, of watching someone change because of me. Not in a bad way. In a way that feels... intimate.”
Lidia tapped her pen against her notepad, watching him closely. “Intimacy,” she repeated. “That’s what you crave.”
He nodded, exhaling deeply.
She let the silence stretch between them, letting his words settle. Then, with a measured smile, she leaned forward just slightly, enough for her presence to feel closer, heavier. “You know, Martin, sexuality isn’t just about what society deems acceptable. It’s about power. About trust.”
He swallowed hard. Something about the way she said it made his skin prickle.
She continued, her voice softer now, almost coaxing. “Do you trust me?”
His lips parted, but no words came out. Did he? He had only just met her, and yet, there was something about her presence that made him feel as though she could see inside him in ways he had never let anyone else.
“Yes,” he whispered.
Her smile deepened. “Good,” she murmured. “Then let’s explore this together.”
Martin wasn’t sure what she meant, not entirely, but as her gaze held his, he felt something shift inside him—a slow unraveling of the walls he had so carefully built.