Turning the Tables (part One)

Chapter 1

“Come on, baby,” she teased as she dangled another slice of carrot cake above my head. “You can do it! I want to see you eat this whole cake for me!”

I sat at the edge of the bed, holding my distended belly, panting with my tongue hanging out of my mouth. I had eaten so much already and was so full I felt like I was going to explode, but she was so sexy and irresistible as she paraded about the room in her lacy red lingerie that showed off every inch of her curves – I probably would have eaten myself to death in that moment if she truly wanted me to.

“You’re such a good fatty!” she cooed as the soft and moist cake met my open mouth. She proceeded to stuff the entire piece into my face as she quickly reached over to the platter on the nightstand next to the bed to grab for the last slice. “One more to go, baby! Show me you can take this down like a champ and I will rock your world!”

My name is Brian Morgan and I'm thirty-two years old. I grew up in Boston but I live in Jersey now and work in Manhattan. I had come home from work just a couple of hours earlier that evening, where I found my girlfriend Jessica dressed like a Penthouse model and armed with a feast fit for an army of hungry kings! Ordering take out from no less than seven different restaurants, every manner of delectable temptation was laid before me: pasta and pizza, noodles and egg rolls, curries and rice and loads and loads of sweet desserts. To say that I was in heaven would be overselling heaven; I was over the moon and beyond.

Introduced to Jessica by some mutual friends not long after moving to a new neighborhood, she at once felt to me fresh and new as well as wholly familiar. She was a stunning beauty, tall and svelte with curves for days, long legs and wide hips and a generously endowed bust. Her face was like that of a Roman goddess, with chiseled cheekbones and a sharply sloped nose, accentuated by the most sultry set of smokey blue eyes I’d ever seen. Her lips were full and pouty, and she had a tongue that danced about in her mouth and lapped up against her pearly-whites as she spoke.

I was putty in her hands from day one, and from day one she made it clear just what her agenda was: she was going to fatten me up, and there was nothing I could do to stop her.

Was it a coincidence that my first serious relationship after starting my new life here in town was with a feeder? Hardly, as I had been raised by a woman who was a feeder, namely my grandmother. Both of my parents had passed away by the time I was twelve years old, leaving me in the care of my paternal grandmother, who was known far and wide for her amazing cooking skills. Not knowing what else to do with me, I suppose, she made it her mission to fatten me up. By the time I was in high school I was a real butterball of a kid.

As I got older I tried hard to resist the temptation of my grandmother’s culinary prowess, to little avail. Getting involved with sports in school I thought would help me to shed extra pounds, but of course the more I tried to be active and athletic the more my grandmother would pump me full food, telling me that I needed it to “keep up my strength.”

At eighteen I went away to college, and being away from my grandma’s constant cooking and feeding helped me to slim down a bit. Even the dreaded “freshman fifteen” that so many of my classmates complained about didn’t hit me nearly as hard as the constant barrage of fattening calories I would have received otherwise under my grandmother’s care.

After college some of my friends from school and I got internships at the same company in the city, which soon led to full time employment and the beginnings of my career as a professional. My friend Gerald and his girlfriend Anika had known Jessica from their own days as high schoolers, and had the good foresight to introduce us. There was no way they could have known just how spot-on their instincts were, or how much that single act would reshape my life.

Being Jessica’s feedee brought me back to a feeling that I thought I had left behind me years ago, while also introducing me to some new feelings that I never knew existed. The act of being fed was an act of love, one that made me feel whole and comforted, but I never knew the sexual aspect of it until Jessica introduced it to me. The feelings of arousal that came from being so stuffed I could barely breathe, from seeing Jessica’s reactions to every inch and pound I’d gain, the look on her face when she’d watch me open my mouth as wide as I possibly could and wrap my lips around a gigantic sandwich or shove my entire face snoot-first into a whole pie, scarfing at all down while I grunted like a pig – all of that helped me to define a part of myself that I had never fully understood before.

After Jessica stuffed that last slice of cake into my face and I swallowed the whole thing, I began to get that painfully bloated feeling, that one that makes you worry for a moment that maybe you took things too far this time. My belly was distended and hard as a rock as all the food I’d eaten of the course of the evening swirled around inside of me in a sea of digestive acids. Pressure was building up inside of me, and I felt like I would bust wide open at any point. Bigger and fuller, tighter and tighter, I expanded like a balloon until finally I let out a gargantuan burp.

“Oh, you naughty piggy!” Jessica gasped, teasing me playfully. “Now do it again!”

I let out several more huge burps, each one seeming to get Jessica more and more aroused. Before I knew it I was on my back and she was straddling me and riding me like a rodeo champ atop a big and raging bull. My huge stomach was rippling up and down, back and forth as a tsunami tossed about inside of me. I could do little more at that point than lay there with my tongue hanging out, gasping for breath as Jessica pleasured me from above.

It was an incredible evening, one that would lead to a new and exciting world for the both of us.