chapter 1 - what you have done to me

© 2020 SLDB

I know I have said these words to you so many times before, but I need you to know just how much I hate you for what you have done to me. I used to be young and beautiful. I would flaunt my skinny body on the beach with all my friends at my side, having the best time of our lives without a care in the world. I was so free, so popular, so… alive. I was a straight A student, I had graduated at the top of my class, and most importantly, I was killing it in my career. Heck, I was on the fast track to becoming the youngest partner in the history of my prestigious law firm.

But then you entered my life.

God I was so stupid then, to think I had met that special someone that I could live happily ever after with. You were so mysteriously quiet, yet there was something about your warm smile and beautiful eyes that drew me in. I must admit, you truly made a believer out of me after those first couple months of dating, but that was only because you were keeping secrets, plotting my downfall in the shadows.

The red flags were there in plain sight, but I allowed my girlish desires to feel loved blind me to reality. My friends told me they couldn’t see why I was into you, but I foolishly mistook their doubts for jealousy. Of course, you used their skepticism as the perfect opportunity to force a wedge between me and my best friends. Soon I found myself spending less time with them and more time with you, moving further and further under your control. Our extravagant date nights were slowly and insidiously replaced with evenings at your apartment. After all, it’s easier to control my diet when you get to pick the food.

I should have seen that something was wrong, the way you constantly forced more food on my plate, but fuck the sex was so good. Every time I would put up a fight about eating more you would remind me of the last time I stuffed my face, then my mind would wander back to the wonderful orgasms you had given me. How could I say no?

After only six months of dating my slim, 125-pound body had grown chubby, the results of your intentional efforts to sabotage my diet. Deep down I knew what you were doing, but work had become so stressful that I soon found myself escaping through your caloric bliss. You had been pushing me for months too give up on my workout routine and finally after so much lobbying… you won. I told myself I would use that extra time and energy to turn my work life around, but you made sure that I spent that time watching TV on the couch, stuffing my face as you massaged my bulbous belly.

Soon the meals you were feeding me became heavier and the portions grew larger. You insisted every night that I should have a glass of wine, insinuating that it was good for my soul, but of course that single wine glass turned into two and before I knew it, I was drinking several bottles a week. The pounds quickly piled on as I allowed you to take advantage of my fragile state of mind. After dating for nine months, my once skinny and athletic physique had become a thing of the past, drowned in 70 additional pounds of disgusting fat that turned me into a different woman. With my thigh gap gone and my slim abs reduced to a bloated and wobbly potbelly, everyday life became more of a chore as I found myself regularly oversleeping. My tardiness at work eventually caught up to me but when I came home crying after being fired, you took me into your arms and consoled me. God I was so blind and stupid. You asked me to move in, said that it would help me save money while I searched for a new job, but you made damn sure that I would never be employed again. Instead you began feeding me even larger meals, encouraging me to overeat as you brought home delicious treats from work.

By our one-year anniversary I had crossed the 200-pound threshold. I turned even further towards alcohol and food to escape my troubles, hiding from the voices in my head that were screaming for me to stop. But I couldn't stop. I had nowhere to turn and we both knew it. I had abandoned my friends and cut off my family when they turned on you for so obviously fattening me up. You were all I had left. The night I hit 250-pounds, you pulled out a ring and proposed there on the spot. I didn't even stop to think, I knew that finding a man with my obese body would be difficult, so I just said yes. I wasn’t just a fat girl; I was a morbidly obese woman. My growing paunch extended out past my DD breasts before drooping down towards the earth. My massive shelf-butt jiggled and rippled as I waddled to and from the kitchen. My manners went out the window as I spent most of my time alone, stuffing my face on the couch. You would hold my paunch in your hands, rubbing it so tenderly as I shamelessly belched. I was obscene.

Two months later we were at the altar, exchanging wedding vows as my rapidly growing 280-pound body was practically bursting at the seams of my dress. I don’t know why I thought you would change after the marriage, but whatever hope I had was quickly erased later that night when we entered the bedroom. I still remember the panic I felt as I gasped at the mountain of food that was waiting for me. For hours I whined as your kept me handcuffed to the bed, shoving mouthfuls of cake and ice cream down my throat as I begged you to stop. But you didn’t. You teased me and called me a fat slut; good for nothing but eating and fucking. You stuffed my throat until I was ready to explode and just when I thought you’d leave me alone; you abused my delicate pussy until your seed was planted deep within me.

That was when the true feeding started. All the healthy items disappeared from our home, replaced by processed sweets and sugary goodies. You introduced food into our sex like, feeding me chocolates during sex, conditioning my mind to associate food with sexual pleasure. My body was a runaway train on a one-way track to immobility. Soon after hitting 350 pounds, I orgasmed at the dinner table just from stuffing myself full. You were so turned on, you pulled me to the ground and took me from behind, slapping my ass repeatedly until my pale, cellulite-ridden cheeks were bright red. Something inside of you snapped that night. Emptying yourself deep within my precious womb, you screamed so loudly it nearly startled me. You called me your prize hog, making pig noises throughout the rest of the night as I soon found my role in this world changing.

Things were never the same after that night. I was no longer your loving companion, girlfriend, or wife. Oh no, I was your property. A fat pig to do with as you pleased. You haven’t called me by my name ever since, always referring to me as a slut, pig, or hog. You bought a small private farm outside of the city, away from the prying eyes of any neighbors. I’ll never forget the day you took me into the barn and told me that it was my new home, I was devastated. You shoved my 372-pound body into ground, the mud splattering all over my massive paunch. Even when I got to my hands and knees my gigantic sack of a stomach fat dragged on the muddy barn floor.

“Are you ready for your first meal as a true barnyard pig?”

You taunted me as you filled a feeding trough with a mixture of liquid cake and ice cream. With my self-esteem and willpower eroded to nothing, my growling stomach begged me to eat. I shoved my face into the mixture and felt myself immediately becoming hot. I hardly noticed as you spread my cheeks and entered my body, but that didn’t stop us from finishing at the same time. When I had slouched over from exhaustion, you snuck up from behind and branded my right ass cheek with the words “Property of Fat Slut Farms.” God the pain was awful. I screamed so loud, but you simply laughed and said it smelt like bacon. You put a collar around my neck and chained me to the fence but told me that it was only temporary until I get “nice and big.”

I slept alone on the cold barn floor that night, covered in mud with a part of you dripping out of me. The next day I awoke to the wonderful smell of your ice cream cake slop pouring into my trough. I didn’t want to give into anymore of your degradation, but my stomach cried out for food and soon my pale and fleshy form crawled over. Reaching my face into the slop as I stuffed myself, I only came up to breath and belch. With my natural urges in complete control, you teased my soaked pussy as I swallowed gobs of the fattening mixture down my throat, tears streaming down my cheeks in shame. I had nothing left to live for except for food and sex, and as I finished up my meal, my extremely overweight body broke down into convulsions as I fell to the floor, jerking about as I orgasmed from my own overfeeding.

Of course, that was nearly a year ago. As I lay here by myself in the barn, staring down at my disgusting 623-pound body, my life before this prison only feels like a dream. I had been a beautiful, successful woman with a wonderful life, and you reduced me into this fat hog, living in filth as your barnyard pet. You removed my chain a few months ago; partly because my neck had gotten to fat for it, but the reality is I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to. I’m a big, fat, disgusting pig. Nobody else would want me like this, yet you still come out here every day. You give me all the food I could ever want and then you physically show me just how hot I make you.

As I feel your children moving within, a part of me hopes that I will one day reclaim my place as your rightful wife, but there’s a new version of myself that has taken root in my mind. It has no interest in being a housewife. It yearns to be a pig, eating and fucking the days away. I fear these desires, yet they grow stronger every day. The last remnants of my old self will soon be gone, and only the pig will remain.

And so, I hate you for what you’ve done to me, but I can’t deny how amazing it feels.