🍽️ 48 Hours of Total Indulgence: My Body Will Never Be the Same 🐷
After weeks of teasing, flirting, late-night chats about calories and capacity… I met her.
A feeder. One that pushed me further than I thought I could.
Day One: Breaking the Seal
We started slow. Pancakes, sausage, hash browns, syrup, all laid out on the table. For one person. Me.
I stuffed myself obediently while she watched, rubbing my belly between bites. Soft moans left my mouth between chews. My pace quickened. She didn’t even need to say anything. Her eyes and hands kept me eating. By lunch, I was already heavy, distended, groaning. But she wasn't done. She straddled me, grabbed my face, and said:
"You're going to eat until you're stupid, breathless, and begging me to stop."
Lunch was pizza, wings, garlic knots dipped in oil. She fed me by hand, sliding greasy bites past my lips, teasing me for chewing too slow. My belly rounded out harder and tighter with every mouthful. I couldn’t keep my thighs from spreading wider to make room for the growing dome of my stomach. I whimpered. She laughed.
Dinner? Chinese takeout. Multiple entrées. A tray of lo mein, egg rolls, fried rice, honey chicken and she wouldn’t let me use my hands. I had to lie back, moaning, while she stuffed me, one bite after another. I was slurring my words by the end, drunk on food and her dominance.
A thick gainer shake, poured straight down my throat while I squirmed, too full to speak, too helpless to resist. I cried out. She whispered:
“Good pig. You’re gonna hurt tomorrow.”
I woke up with my belly still full. Sore. Heavy. The hangover of pure gluttony.
“No breaks today. I want you ruined.”
Breakfast was brought to bed , donuts, buttered croissants, bacon piled high. She rubbed my bloated middle as I groaned through every bite, her voice cooing filth in my ear:
“Look at you. Can’t even sit up anymore, can you? Just a big, soft, stuffed mess.”
I was red-faced, sweat pooling in my folds, body too sluggish to respond. But she kept going.
By afternoon, I couldn’t even walk. She dragged me to the couch, stripped me down, and fed me like livestock. Chicken tenders, mac and cheese, mashed potatoes. all shoveled into my mouth while I whined, burped, twitched from the pressure inside me.
"You’re gonna grow so much you forget how to move."
She sat on my lap as I ballooned under her, belly pressing against her chest, both of us moaning with each slosh and stretch. Every time I thought I’d reached the end, she pushed me further. She owned my body. My limits didn’t matter anymore.
And then… the final push.
Funnel. Tube. Two shakes, then three. My belly rippled, fighting for space. I was crying, drooling, so full it hurt to breathe.
She kissed my forehead and whispered:
“Look at you. Too fat to move. Too full to think. Just how I like you.”
Now, I’m home. Still sore. Still heavy. I can feel the difference. Every movement slower, every breath deeper. My belly hangs lower. She didn’t just feed me.
And I can’t wait to go back.
