Feederism Short Stories + Inspo

Relationship Weight

When he first met you, you were a skinny, cute, and shy girl. You barely ate anything, not only because you wanted to stay thin, but because it simply didn't cross your mind. Food was barely a part of your life, more something you ate once in a while because you had to than anything that you have a great passion for.

It was that dreamy, skinny girl with her head in the clouds and her thin little hands twiddling that he first fell in love with. The feelings were mutual. Little did you know what an impact the relationship would have on your waistline.

He took such good care of you. He would tend to your every need, always making sure you were comfortable and happy. But more than anything else... he made sure that you were well fed.

"good morning!!" You would text him, eagerly waiting his response

"Good morning!" He'd respond back "Make sure to have a hearty breakfast!"

And so you did. They say old habits die hard, but with his encouragement, it felt like they went much easier. Eating went from a burden to an enjoyable experience, especially whenever he was over. That's when he'd cook for you, making delicious meals filled with savory, irresistible flavor. What came next was natural.

Your figure filled out a bit. You got a heavier backside, a fuller face, softer arms. Nothing huge, certainly not enough to call you fat, or even chubby. Just not so emaciated and delicate as you used to look. And with most girls and most boyfriends, that's where the story would end. But not with you... and not with him.

No, he kept going. Every morning the same text, and soon a new one in the evening as the two of you were saying good night:

"Did you eat enough today?"

You would coyly respond with an affirmative text and think no more of it. At least for the few nights, but then you began thinking... did you eat enough today?

After all, you know how you could get. Skipping meals and everything. And he was so sweet, just wanting to take care of you. Maybe he was right to be asking. He just wanted what's best for you.

One day, when you genuinely had skipped dinner, he sent you the text. This time, instead of your usual "ofc!" You responded with an honest: "no :("

"Well you better eat some more then! I don't want my girl going to bed hungry"

You didn't know why, but it made you blush. He was right. You threw your covers off to head downstairs, opening your cupboard. Now, you thought, what would he nice and filling?

This is when your figure began to look fuller and fuller. Rounder breasts grew more and more, until they were bigger than they'd ever been. Your thighs started to thicken, your thigh gap disappeared. Your face grew even chubbier, your cheeks round. Your waist began to fill out, your body growing wider. And most of all, your tummy began to swell and grow.

It wasn't long before you had to throw out your old wardrobe. This was not long after you moved in with him. A long struggle session with an old pair of jeans that you couldn't zip round your now rounded belly showed you that. He went with you to the store to help you pick out the cutest clothes. But in your heart, you were already thinking about dieting.

You started cutting back. Less snacks, smaller portions, fewer soda. After all, you didn't want to get fat.

He seemed to disagree, because the first thing he started doing was taking you out to more meals than ever, buying more snacks than ever, and cooking larger, more fattening meals than ever. You tried, you really did. But in an environment full of butter-soaked pasta, bags and bags of potato chips, candy in every cupboard, and McDonalds delivery on the way, it would be hard for every the strongest willed girl to not get enormously fat.

And you, well, you were certainly strong willed. But that didn't stop the pounds from continuing to pile on. You felt defeated, like you had lost. Until...

The fatter you got, the more ravenous he seemed. Like he couldn't keep his hands out of your rolls, or from grabbing your increasingly enormous belly. It seemed almost as if, he loved it.

So you gave up. You surrendered yourself to the pasta and the chips and the candy and the McDonalds. If you were ballooning before, then by now you were positively blowing up. Few signs remained of that frail, skinny girl. She was buried under pounds and pounds of lard, under an enormous round, stretchmark-laden belly, under a fat face and a thick double chin.

Every night, he still asks you the same question

"Did you eat enough today?"

And now, as you set aside your nighttime bag of greasy potato chips and let out a little burp, you can answer truthfully

"Yes..."