Admit It

Chapter 7

I gulp, unsure of what to say.

Tyler looks at me evenly, unwavering, his arms crossed against his chest. He went for a casual look too, a white t-shirt and dark wash jeans, but now I realize for an entirely different reason. This isn't a date, it's an interrogation, so he can figure out what happened two days ago.

I finally find some words, and they're not good ones: "What's what?"

"What. Is. Feederism?" Tyler says slower, not in an angry tone, but his voice is steady. My stomach tightens into a knot, but I try to keep myself calm, telling myself that he just wants to talk.

"I...I know what it is," I admit quietly, looking down at my feet and shuffling uncomfortably. I hear him move but don't look up for a moment. When I do, he's not standing in front of me anymore.

I slowly take a few more steps into his apartment, walking through the kitchen towards a table, and look to my right, where Tyler's sitting on a couch with his hands propped on his elbows. He looks tired but not in an unfixable way.

Making my way over to the living room, I sit in a chair facing the couch Tyler's on at an angle. The silence once again engulfs us, and I don't know how to speak first.

Luckily Tyler does. "Are you a feeder?"

I feel a sense of calm wash over me, realizing that answering as bluntly and honestly as possible will make this easier for both of us. "I think so, yeah."

"How long have you known?"

I pause to think for a moment. "Actively, not very long. But subconsciously, a few years at least, since my early teens."

Tyler contemplates this, not looking at me but instead down at his hands, where he fiddles with his nails, picking at the cuticles with great concentration. He finally looks at me, barely meeting my eyes. "What if I'm not a feedee?" he asks.

I meet his eyes as evenly as I can, taking a moment before answering, trying to sound sure despite a deep feeling that I've fallen into a hole I can't crawl out of. "Then we have a normal relationship, and it'll never happen again," I say with as much confidence as I can, trying to sound pursuasive.

Tyler looks back down at his hands and takes a deep breath. Everything in me wants to sit on the couch and wrap an arm around him to make him feel okay, but I know that won't make him feel better right now. "And what if I am?"

My mind stops abruptly at his words, completely taken aback and unsure of how to reply. What if he is? Is that my biggest fantasy or a nightmare, considering I've wanted to leave this part of myself behind me, and successfully did until a week and a half ago?

"Then....we figure that out, together hopefully," I say quietly, my eyes pleading him to look back up at me, but he doesn't. Instead his hands roll into fists and shake for a second before he takes a deep breath, exhaling in a way that makes him sound close to tears and I feel my heart tug towards him.

"I don't know what to do," he whispers, and that finally prompts me to walk over to the couch and sit next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in towards me. He lets himself fall into my shoulder, resting there for a moment before speaking again. "I feel so torn."

"About what?"

"About this," he says, taking a moment before clarifying. "On one hand, I felt almost....objectified isn't the right word, but you know what I mean, when you made me a big meal and I realized it was because it turned you on. But then again...I've been having trouble not overeating, and I really like doing it, and having someone who was okay with that sounds like a dream come true."

I sit silently, my arm tightening around Tyler supportively, but I say nothing. I have no excuse for making him feel like I just used him for a hot hookup, because in hindsight....I did. A sick feeling settles in my gut that I'm desperate to shake.

"I'm sorry," is all I can manage to say.

Tyler shifts under my arm, and I turn my head to see him looking straight at me. I meet his gaze, searching his eyes for a clue. "Would you still be with me if I didn't want to be a feedee?"

"Yes," I say immediately, and realize it's true. I was attracted to him before I knew he had a pot belly, and I'd still be attracted to him if he wanted to lose the pot belly.

"But you prefer if I am?"

I bite my lip. If someone had asked me this two weeks ago, my answer would have been hell no. But now that the door's been reopened, I don't know how difficult it could be closed again. I've let myself fall into a hole of indulgement that feels too difficult to claw out of.

Tyler picks up on the answer that my silence implies. "I get it," he says with a sadness in his voice, and I feel a lump in my throat that makes me feel like this is a break up. I didn't prepare for a break up, I prepared for a hot date with a hot guy. My body starts to feel light and dizzy at the possibility that this is our last date, and it's not even a good date.

"Okay then," Tyler says, in a firm voice that sounds less sad. I tense and look towards him, but he sits up, letting my arm fall behind him on the couch before looking at me. His eyes are soft, and they flick down towards my lips before leaning forward.

Our lips meet softly, and my eyes flutter closed, tears of confusion and relief stinging them and threatening to fall. The kiss lasts a few seconds before Tyler pulls away, looking at me with a grin that's infectious, immediately making me feel better. He pats my leg and leans away from me.

"So if I gain weight, that's not going to be a dealbreaker either?"

"Of course not."

"Well," he says, an almost giddy smile reaching his eyes. "You should order me some takeout so we can turn this night around."