You and your feeder move in together.
The relationship is friends with benefits, satisfying the needs of the other while they stay adult-like roommates.
He is to feed you dinner every night, he gets to choose, and you have to eat the entire meal, or else he wont satisfy you downstairs.
Each day goes by and for dinner it just seems that there is far more food than you can handle. He insists that you have to finish.. but cant
Your pleasures go unsung, not allowed to finish until you complete your promise.. to finishing dinner.
Each day goes by and you’re eating more than ever. Dinner’s last hours and you can’t remember where you are sometimes.
You wonder how he’s managed to make so much each night, but all he let’s you worry about is if your mouth is full.
For however much you eat.. however much you’re stretching and growing, thickening with fat as you digest.. there’s always more food.
How can you finish it? It’s.. simply beyond your capacity. You’re forcing yourself fuller each time, starting to stay raging hard during it.
You’re growing is increasing. And still he won’t let you touch yourself.. you feel bloated, engorged, your balls heavier than ever.
Everything’s thick and warm down there and you know you’d cream if you stroked for more than a minute. Feeder says no..
One night.. the dinner is embarrassingly small.
A cake. A cheesecake, about 9 inches wide.
He feeds it to you one by one, smiling the entire time and making sure to take great emphasis.. in shaking the gut you had grown.
The thing pooled into your lap, swollen out 80 inches in circumference.
You had no idea just how fat you had become, but you knew you’d at least doubled in size.. And now you were.. finishing dinner.
For the first time in months you had finally eaten all that he had brought you. But you couldn’t believe it. How could there not be more?
Why would he not let you eat your fill and go to bed full..
“You can touch yourself now..” He’s says, and sits down beside you, and waits.
You huff and look down in front of you, palms laid flat down on the dome of flab billowing out from your middle, love handles spread wide.
A hand reaches down and pushes that gut around, shifting it side to side, lifting it up and just REACHING for downstairs..
You feel this fat mound of musky softness ballooned out of your crotch.. a thick chubby mountain hiding under an apron.
And you realized you’d lost it. And you lean back on your couch, huffing and panting. and you cum.
You need him if you wanted to reach it. To feel it. To have the reminder that its still there. Now you had all the time in the world to eat.
You won’t be reaching that thing anytime soon anyways.
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