Force Feeding

I was a child when I first saw her.

Asleep in bed, my scrawny body bundled up in many thick blankets, I didn't notice anything until I felt a hauntingly cool breeze skim across the nape of my neck. As my eyes flickered open, the girlish bedroom came into view - the dolls house, the tea party set, and the big box of dress ups against the back wall. It took a minute before my eyes laid on the figure standing in front of it.

It was a woman, of course, with flowing blonde hair, golden skin, and devilishly dark eyes. She grinned as I stared at her, her teeth perfectly white. Well-sharpened incisors pressed gently against full red lips. Her full face was pretty and innocent, but those teeth gave me the chills.

Looking away from her face, I studied her body. She had a small amount of neck swallowed by fat that pushed up from her generous bosom. Her shoulders were broad but rounded with soft adipose that extended along her arms and down to sausage-like fingers. Those puffy hands rested on the bloated sides of a swollen belly that pushed out big and smoothly round, as though she were heavily pregnant with multiple babies. The woman's hips were even bigger, holding up her love handles without much effort. From what I could see, she had quite the sizeable backside as well. Her legs were as thick as tree trunks, her calves one size all the way down to her puffy feet, which had been tightly stuffed into strapped black heels.

Covering her from chest to mid-thigh was a far-too-small blood red dress, that hugged every inch of her huge body, emphasising each bulging roll she had. Something about the sight of this woman lured me in, and I couldn't turn my eyes away. I looked up from her body and once again met her eyes. My own widened in absolute awe.

This woman was beautiful. Though I was only nine years old, I knew that she was definition of female perfection. There wasn't a part of her that was flawed. So big and round and wonderful, her soft body jiggling even as she breathed. At that moment, the mysterious woman became my idol. I wanted nothing more, nor anything less, than to grow up and become as seductively curvaceous as she was.

With a quiet giggle, she stepped over to me, her large hips swaying. Bending over as much as her ample belly would allow, she whispered in my ear a string of words I didn't understand. Once again, her icy breath blew across the nape of my neck, and slowly her face faded from focus, until I awoke in my room. Alone.

From the very next morning, I upped the amount of food I ate. It didn't take long before food was going from bag or box or container, into my hands, and then down my throat, day in and day out. That woman kept returning to my dreams, whispering her encouragements and promising that, if I kept pushing myself, feeding my inflated body more and more, then I would look just like her.

Finally, upon turning twenty one, I reached my goal. Hitting 300lbs, I got myself a job working at an ice cream store. Though I wasn't the only chubby employee, I was certainly the chubbiest. That is, until, Ryan arrived.

He was tall and fair skinned, with curly brown hair and green eyes. His body was big all over, but his belly was monstrous, sagging forward to fight the belt strapped tightly around his waist. As he greeted everyone and finally laid eyes on me, a smile split his round face. Almost instantly we became close, and pretty soon he asked me out on a date.

He took me to an all-you-can-eat buffet, which could not have been a better choice. It was clear both of us loved a good meal, and as soon as we sat down food became our number one topic. I didn't tell him about the girl in my dreams, but I edged around her, saying that I'd dreamed of being big since I was a child. Ryan explained he'd never thought of it until he began dating a girl who turned out to be a feeder.

Ryan must have noticed my puzzled expression. "What, you've never heard that term before?"

I shook my head. "No, I really haven't."

Explaining the term, he went on to tell me how it had started off innocent enough - she'd give him an extra slice of pie or cake for dessert, and "accidentally" make too much for dinner. Soon after, she began to cook all of his meals as though she was cooking for a whole family, and it didn't take long for that to progress to force feeding him. Many a night she'd handcuffed his bloated wrists to the kitchen chair and stuffed him until he passed out. Eventually - at 330lbs - he broke the chair, and decided enough was enough. He broke it up, but couldn't lose the weight.

"Actually," he admitted. "I didn't really want to. Once you get this big--"

"It's hard to go back," I finished for him, understanding completely.

"So you've never had someone feed you before?"

"No, I didn't even know people did that kind of thing."

"Well," said Ryan, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "How about we change that?"

He got up from the table with a grunt, heaving his belly up with difficulty. I watched him waddle towards the plates, feeling a strong desire to take him home. My jaw almost dropped as he walked back with two piled-high plates - burgers, fries swimming in gravy, onion rings, cheese-filled nuggets, and a few slices of meatlovers pizza. I thought he'd save a plate for himself, but instead he slid them both over to me, and told me to eat.

After years of training my belly, I wouldn't have thought this meal would be such a task. I started with the burgers, wolfing them down so fast my hands were almost a blur. Then I worked my way through the pizza, starting to feel my tummy puffing outwards against the tight-fitting fabric of my red dress. Enjoying my increasing fullness, I munched on the nuggets, losing count of how many found their way into my stomach with me barely even chewing. As I started on the onion rings, I became increasingly aware of how much my well-fed stomach was bulging. I also noticed that familiar feeling down below, and had a new urge to keep eating.

The fries went down with ease - helped by the deliciously perfect gravy - and I sat back. Patted my belly and sipped my Coke. As I'd been shovelling in food, Ryan had eaten his own mammoth meal, and was immediately up to get seconds. Not for himself. For me.

This time he came back with a colossal bowl of special fried rice, accompanied by an equally large bowl of prawn crackers. Placing a forkful of rice into a prawn cracker as though it were a miniature bowl of its own, I pushed it into my mouth. One after the other, I worked my way through both bowls until there was not so much as a crumb left. At this point, I was convinced I'd burst, my stomach so swollen it seemed close to tearing the fabric of my dress. I was in pain, now, but it was good pain. I'd never eaten so much in one sitting, and was fairly proud of myself.

Again, Ryan was up to retrieve dessert. I considered protesting, but I also wanted to prove I could handle anything he threw my way. So, I stayed silent as he returned with heaped up helpings of ice cream drown in chocolate syrup, and a side of chocolate mousse. I managed the ice cream, but didn't dare attempt the mousse.

"You can do it," Ryan encouraged, but I knew I couldn't.

I shook my head. "I really can't," I told him. "I'm too full."

Ryan moved his chair over to my side. Picking up the spoon, he immediately began feeding me. I let him do it, sitting back in the chair and feeling my pot belly stretch all the more. Finally it was over, and Ryan - after paying - suggested we go back to his house. Full and tired, I agreed simply because his place was closer, and I wanted to lie down.

When we got there - a single bedroom apartment decorated minimally but still very modern - he led me into the kitchen. He was shy to kiss me, at first, but when I returned the gesture he knew it was okay. Things grew heated quickly, and he pushed me up against the bench, reaching behind my back. Suddenly he was leading me over to the kitchen table, and I happily followed him. He gently sat me down in the dining chair...

...and cuffed my soft wrists to the arm.

I looked up at him, shocked. "What?"

He fumbled around in the kitchen, then came back with a terrifying looking needle filled with an eerily blue liquid. He injected it into the fat folds of my neck, left me for a few minutes, and came back with a feast.

Chocolate, cakes, cupcakes, pies, ice cream, it seemed he'd cleared out his entire kitchen. At the sight of the food, my stomach groaned in agony, but at the same time grumbled with a ravenous hunger that I'd never before experienced. It was all too easy to succumb as Ryan shovelled bite after bite of the deliciously fattening food down my gullet.

It wasn't until the cuffs on my wrists began to cut deep that I noticed something. It wasn't just my belly that was growing bigger as I was crammed full of every last crumb on the table. My whole body - thanks to that blue serum - was beginning to bulge. My thighs, which already had a tough time snuggling into the chair, were pushing so hard at the sides that I was most certainly stuck in the chair, the fat spilling out of the gap beneath the arms. Falling out of my bra, my chest sagged down to my beach ball of a stomach, getting visibly bigger by the second. Everything from my fingers to my toes was doubling, tripling in size before my very eyes.

The sound of my strapped shoes snapping reached my ears, followed by the thunderous ripping of my dress as it disintegrated. Every roll on my flabby body fell out of the torn fabric, and I was naked before Ryan. He barely seemed to notice that his own ball of a gut was pressing hard up against my, and he was having to reach over more to force food in my throat.

Between bites, I managed swallow quick enough to try and beg him to stop. My stomach was crying, screaming for this to end - it simply couldn't take any more. It gurgled unhappily as a thick slice of pie was forced into it, followed by a big scoop of ice cream and finally an entire chocolate cake. The tighter that stomach was stretched, the itchier it became, as though the skin was on fire. I was about to split open, for sure.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as Ryan continued forcing food on me. My entire body fattened, swelling up like Violet in Willy Wonka. My love handles covered the arms of the chair, and pushed viciously against them. With any more force, those arms just my snap off.

The food just seemed to keep coming. My pleas were silence with another slice, another mouthful, another painful swallow that made my tummy all the more upset. Over my muffled cries, I could hear the sound of my stomach gurgling dangerously, the skin itself creaking as it was stretched far beyond capacity.

Full. Stuff. Bloated. Distended. Augmented. Engorged. There wasn't a word in the dictionary enough to satisfy how terrifyingly overfed I was. Finally the food stopped coming, and Ryan watched as I groaned and moaned in nothing short of pure agony. The creaking grew louder, and I was convinced my belly was about to burst, like a balloon pumped full of too much air.

All I could hear was the gurgling of my belly and the mysterious creaking. It grew louder, more threatening, until finally the mother of all creaks echoed through the apartment, and the chair beneath me snapped into pieces. I went crashing to the ground, and laid there, unable to so much as turn my body, let alone get up by myself.

Ryan, his apron-like belly swaying awkwardly in front of him, knelt down beside me and continued to feed. He fed and fed and fed until I fell into a stupor, and I vaguely remember consenting to sex with him. Afterwards, with incredible, almost inhuman strength, he helped me to my feet and led me to his well-reinforced bed, where I lay there and slept for an unholy amount of time.

"Morning," Ryan said, greeting me happily with breakfast in bed.

Looking around at myself, I saw that the growth I'd undergone last night had not dissipated, but the awful feeling in my belly had. Now, my stomach was empty and screaming for more food to please it.

With daily injections of that blue serum, I now happily allow Ryan to feed me until I pass out. I can't say I ever thought of becoming an immobile, thousand-pound pile of lard that is stuffed to the brim all hours of the day, but now that I am, I'm certainly not complaining.