Feeding Time
(2nd Person, Feedee POV. - Gender, Race and Orientation Ambiguous)
WARNING: This story is intended for mature readers 18 years of age and older only.
Contains themes of: Fat, Gluttony, Feeding, Force Feeding, Weight Gain & Extreme Obesity, Diminishing Mobility, Teasing, Humiliation & Degradation, Torment, Pig References, Feeder & Feedee, Dominant & submissive, Non Consent, Bondage, Confinement, Brutality, Sexual Content & Strong Language.
Perhaps a little early for Halloween, but this one does have a little bit of a horror element to it. The story does get rather extreme, but I tried to keep it somewhat within the realm of feasibility.
Synopsis: Having frivolously sought out a relationship, solely for the opportunity of enjoying a hedonistic life of leisure, excessive gluttony and indulgent, physical pleasures. A long time glutton must suddenly face the consequences of their lazy, lustful, greedy compulsions, and the impulsive choices that they have made.
First, an editorial note:
I have seen quite a few creators of this kind of content include âtrigger warningsâ on their works. This seems rather redundant to me. I mean, isn't that the point of this kind of material? To trigger emotional, physical and even psychological reactions.
Yes, I understand that âtriggerâ is a term used in the practice of psychology, to identify a stimulus, that has the potential to harmfully effect an individual, who has previously experienced an associated trauma.
My point is, people who are âtriggeredâ in a negative, or harmful way by feedism erotica and the subject matter typically associated with it, probably shouldn't be reading feedism erotica... Am I right? Likewise, who's to say what's a trigger, and what isn't. Everyone is different. What may be a trigger for one individual, might not be, for another. For example: some people are triggered by the sight of a fluffy, white bunny.
In my humble opinion, there are good triggers, as well as bad. I like to believe that many readers seek out this type of material, because it contains triggers. Some people like to be disturbed, made uncomfortable, or scared. It's part of the human condition. Also, the very reason that horror films and novels exist. Likewise, for some, triggers can elicit thrills, excitement and even arousal.
But I am not criticizing creators who choose to include such warnings to inform their viewers, or readers, nor am I making light of individuals who truly have undesirable, harmful reactions to certain kinds of content. But âweâ (and I mean everyone,) as consumers, need to take some personal responsibility for the products and materials we choose to consume. i.e. using some common sense.
I mean, FUCK! We have to slap warning labels on every fucking thing nowadays. A knife shouldn't need to have a label that says âWarning: Sharp Edgeâ... Dumb-asses!
When it comes to this type of feedism erotica, reading the first few sentences should normally give you a pretty good idea just what you're getting into. And in most cases, the title alone should be enough.
It would be different if I created a work titled: âThe Effects of Inflation in a Warehouse Environment.â Leading readers to believe that it was some, sleepy essay on economics within the warehousing industry. But then, the first paragraph starts out with:
A dumb, big-titted, plump-assed, blonde co-ed, finds herself the victim of a kidnapping. She awakens in the middle of a dark, abandoned warehouse, stripped completely naked and strapped into some, bizarre medical chair. A hose had been shoved down her throat, connected to an enormous, overhead storage tank, which was about to mercilessly empty it's full contents into her belly. Surrounding her, an assortment of sinister, shadowy figures watches on with great arousal, intent upon using the girl for their pleasure and fucking her senseless, once she has been engorged to the size of a compact sedan.
That would be misleading.
Umm, oops! Sorry... That there, probably should have had a trigger warning attached... My bad.
Yes, I do try to place content and age appropriate warnings on my writings, to give readers a heads up, and give them some idea what sort of theme(s) are involved. I personally feel that content warnings are more informative than a simple trigger warning.
But, as I believe that the following story may definitely contain potential triggers, I will play along and say:
(Trigger Warning)... I mean, that is why you're here... Right?
OK, I will shut up now. I hope you enjoy the following offering.
Feeding Time
By The Torture Artist
Life truly didn't get any better than this. You were in your happy place... Down on all fours with your face buried in a trough, greedily gorging yourself upon your favorite, yummy treats. A group of highly aroused feeders had clustered around you now, urging you on, growling lustful, sexually charged encouragements in your ear, pushing you to go on gorging yourself even further. Their eager hands busily explored every inch of your delightfully fattened body, excitedly caressing your heavily distended belly, as they aggressively worked and stimulated the pleasure centers between your legs, as well as every other, sensitive erogenous zone on your body, for added incentive.
They pushed handful after heaping handful into your greedy mouth one after the other, never allowing you a moments pause, and you eagerly accepted every one of them, frantically, lustfully gulping it all down. They had you worked into a feeding frenzy, your entire body was inflamed, your mind overwhelmed and numbed with indulgent exhilaration. You didn't want this unbelievably euphoric pleasure to end... Ever!
But you were getting so fucking full, your profoundly engorged belly pressing heavily into the mattress beneath you. Your gut felt so damn tight! It ached, and throbbed, groaning and creaking with the most unsettling sounds. You were at your absolute limits, you had never felt so unimaginably full... You were ready to fucking explode! But that uniquely distressful condition, that delicious blend of pleasure and pain, only served to arouse and insight you further, as you continued to force more and more down. Inevitably, something had to give. You didn't know which was going to explode first... Your insanely overloaded belly, or the whopping orgasm welling in your loins.
Your body convulsed... And then tensed. Your eyes widening with fearful anticipation as you froze, your bulging cheeks still packed with food, unable to even continue swallowing as you huffed and squealed through your nose. Your body began to tremble, rapidly building in intensity, until you were quivering volatiley... This was it!.. You were about to...
Suddenly, a sharp commanding voice ripped you from your blissfully climactic crescendo...
âWakey - wakey my lazy, rotund pig... Feeding time!â
Groggy and disoriented, you blinked your eyes, reluctantly departing the world of blissful, tryptophan induced twilight, as you slowly returned to consciousness. Barely half awake, you grunted and huffed in sexual frustration, beginning to realize, it must have only been a dream... A delicious sex dream. Or at least, âyourâ kind of sex dream. The sort that occupied your unconscious, greedy mind on a regular basis... But it had been interrupted right at the best part. You were so fucking horny right now, it wasn't funny.
âMmmmmm...â you moaned wantonly as you reminisced... Ohhh, to be profusely indulged in gluttony and sexual gratification... Was there truly any greater form of pleasure to be had?.. No, not as far as you were concerned, you mused, as you sluggishly rejoined reality.
âCome on tubby!.. Time to feed your big, fat, greedy ass!â The voice boomed even more loudly, accompanied by three quick, sharp slaps upon your exposed, protruding belly.
You squealed in shock and pain as you were startled fully awake now, your belly stinging from the sudden assault... It was your feeder, and you knew the drill. You were to assume the ready position, then await their further instructions, and you were expected to do so, promptly and obediently... Your feeder was not one who liked to be kept waiting.
Huffing and groaning under the strain, it required several attempts to finally get yourself rolled over. It surely must have been a comical sight. You were doing your best to get into position as promptly as possible. However, speed was not one of your more notable qualities. At nearly 600 pounds, you didn't do anything quickly... Well, except eat. But that never kept your feeder from expecting immediate compliance from you. Any hint of hesitation, apathy, or obstinance, was always met with swift retribution, in the form of ridicule, penalization, or worse... Punishment!
Although your feeder would never admit it to you, they secretly enjoyed your frantic, laborious struggles to comply with their commands. Finding your wallowing, fatty precipitated buffoonery, not only amusing, but also, quite arousing. They derived great pleasure from tormenting you over your lethargic, clumsy efforts.
As you ponderously worked yourself up, onto your hands and knees, your immense, pendulous belly, swayed and wobbled, dislodging a huge belch. Bringing back with it, fond memories of the extra large pizza, chewy, cheesy, breadsticks and the plate of brownies, that you had earlier.
As per your feeder's wishes, you positioned yourself near the edge of your massive, oversized bed, beginning to tingle and quiver with nervous excitement, as you awaited them anxiously. Your thoughts drifting to your usual preoccupations... Food and sexual pleasure.
Your horny, greedy, food obsessed mind whirled with the possibilities. What delicious, belly filling treat did your feeder have in store for you? Was it to be an intimate, passion filled, hand feeding this time? Perhaps a humiliating session at the trough, with lots of teasing, taunting and groping? Or maybe your feeder would strap you down for an intense, fast-paced feeding... That was always such a rush. You loved that sense of helplessness and vulnerability, the complete submission and inability to resist anything that your feeder wanted to do with you... Or to you. Those were always some of the hottest feeding sessions.
Your feeder was always very creative, possessing a real gift for devising exciting new ways to conduct your feedings. They liked to keep things random and spontaneous, to make things fun and keep you on your toes, as they liked to say. A rather odd analogy, as you actually spent very little time on your feet anymore. They were so bloated and swollen with fat, that it was doubtful they were even of much use for waddling around anymore. They were just there for the aesthetics. You know... To look plump and cute. Well, you hadn't actually seen them in quite some time... But your feeder always said they were plump and cute. So you just had to take their word for it.
Feeding Time! No two words in the English language could incite such excitement, arousal and lustful hunger within you. Likewise, the presence of food and the impending glutting that it foreshadowed, was a trigger for you. The sight, the smell, even the mere thought of food caused your mouth to salivate profusely and your genitals to become aroused and inflamed.
In fact, the prospect of being overfed, stuffed and utterly glutted, aroused you like no other sexual act could. Unrestrained gluttony was sexual pleasure for you... And the application of sexual stimulation while you were gorging, or being gorged, elevated that pleasure to euphoric levels. An association that had been instilled and reinforced through years of training, conditioning and repetition.
But you were oblivious to such things. Your simple pig mind didn't expend any effort trying to comprehend, or justify why you craved the pleasures of gluttonous indulgence so profoundly. All you cared about was eating and cumming... Both in profuse quantities... As much as you could physically tolerate.
You no longer simply ate conventional meals, such as breakfast, lunch, or dinner, etc. For you, those terms no longer held any meaning. Instead, you received feedings, or sessions, as your feeder often referred to them. Administered on a schedule completely at your feeders discretion.
A feeding session could happen at any time, anywhere, and consist of any kind, or quantity of food that struck your feeders fancy. Pizza at 6 am, pancakes and sausage at midnight, cupcakes and sweetened heavy cream at 3 in the morning, or a thick, 4 quart, cake batter shake, funneled down your throat, without warning. There was no rhyme or reason behind it, it was completely random. That kept things fun and unpredictable, as was your feeder's intention. It could be as simple as a jelly donut, spontaneously shoved in your mouth, or elaborate as a huge, hours long, belly stretching marathon, sprung upon you at any time, morning, noon or night.
You liked surprises, especially those pop-up feedings that came out of nowhere... When your feeder suddenly began shoving food in your mouth without warning. Though, your feeder's sadistic streak could be rather frightening at times. They often enjoyed sneaking up on you, and pinching your nose shut. Then, as you gasped in startled surprise, they would shove a huge mouthful of food in, leaving you short of breath and frantically struggling to swallow it down. As always, spitting it out, was of course, an absolute no-no. It was sometimes a fun surprise when you were awake. However, not so much when your feeder did it while you were sleeping. But, such was your feeder's perverse m.o.
As a result of your feeder's erratic, spontaneous whims, time had become an abstract and largely irrelevant concept for you. Your life was simply a random succession of eating, cumming and sleeping, with the occasional, special activity arbitrarily thrown in for variety. Activities, which more often than not, typically involved filling your belly, in one form or another. You could no longer discern morning from night, Monday from Thursday, or Spring from Fall. There was only food, sex, sleep and pleasing your feeder... And that was all you needed. The more, the better, as far as you were concerned.
For better, or for worse... This was your life now.
As you waited with mounting anticipation, for your feeder to begin, your arms and legs began to grow weary, trembling and growing numb, as you struggled to hold up your massive bulk. It was different when you were feeding from the trough, you could manage to hold yourself up much longer... Perhaps it was your pig adrenaline kicking in. But, even that was becoming increasingly more difficult as you continued to balloon. In actuality, everything was getting more difficult. You were becoming absolutely enormous, and impossible as it may have seemed, your gains were accelerating.
You wondered how much longer you would be able to comply with your feeders desires. If things continued the way they were, you knew there would soon come a time when you could no longer manage to get yourself up into the hands and knees, ready position... The realization of that frightened you. As did the uncertainty of how your feeder would react when that time came.
You rarely took pause to contemplate âThe Weightâ of your situation... You were usually too busy gorging and enjoying yourself. But your physical limitations were growing more and more noticeable with each and every passing day... Every feeding.
This realization prompted a rare moment of reflection...
You had entered this arrangement willingly, eagerly. In fact, it was primarily your idea from the start. Having long been obsessed with the idea of living a life of complete leisure, you sought to establish a relationship in which you would have little, to no responsibility, leaving you free, to completely immerse yourself in all the things that brought you the most pleasure. You longed to become someone's feedee, to be pampered, spoiled and indulged with all the food and sexual pleasure you could possibly want. To become their sexual plaything, their hungry, horny little pet, to be used as they wish, and fattened up for their pleasure.
Then, one fateful day, you finally found someone, and the two of you hit it off immediately. Your desires and interests were perfectly aligned. They were not only willing, but able to give you everything you wanted... And then some. Thinking, as you usually did, solely with your stomach and genitals, you submitted without hesitation, giving little thought as to where it all might lead... Or the potential consequences. Perhaps it was that your greedy desires had gotten the best of you, but things progressed very quickly, and within a matter of less than a week's time, you had moved in with them... Willingly and eagerly abandoning and walking away from everything and everyone you had known to that point, solely for the opportunity to indulge your lustful, greedy compulsions. It was a decision that would change your life... Forever.
Relinquishing control and fully submitting to your new-found partner's desires had brought out a Dominant side of them, that you could have scarcely seen coming. They took over complete control of your life, and in that moment, your would-be partner became not only your enabler and feeder... But your owner and taskmaster!
It was all better than you could have possibly imagined. Both of your lives exploded in an endless buffet of perverse, indulgent pleasures. There was no moderation, no limits observed... No turning back.
As part of this no holds barred immersion into blatant overindulgence, your new feeder immediately began referring to you as, âtheir pig.â An epithet denoting both endearment and ownership. Although being called a pig made you uncomfortable initially, you quickly came to find your feeder's playful, though often brutal, teasing and humiliation to be quite arousing. Becoming their pig, enriched your gluttonous journey. It not only identified who and what you were, it defined your place within the hierarchy of your feeding relationship. You came to embrace it and crave having it acknowledged. Nothing brought you more joy, or filled you with a greater sense of pride, than being told what a good pig you were... Consequently, you would never hear your given name uttered again.
Overindulging had always brought you great pleasure. The delicious food, the overeating, the feeling of your belly filling, stretching and expanding, the sight of it distending and swelling out in front of you as you gorged... The entire gluttonous experience aroused you tremendously. But your feeder took your gluttony induced pleasure and arousal to a whole new level.
You loved your feeders aggressive approach, their passion, their intensity, as well as their unwavering commitment and determination. The way they constantly pushed and challenged your limits, provoking you to excesses of gluttony exceeding anything you thought you could take. Then of course, there was their manipulative application of sexual pleasure as a motivational tool, provoking and inflaming your gluttonous compulsions to ever greater extremes. A skill that your feeder quickly achieved mastery of, frequently leaving you acutely gorged beyond anything you believed was possible.
For you, there was no greater pleasure in the world than being so heavily glutted... It was the pinnacle of gluttonous pleasure. Being gorged to your absolute limits got you off like nothing else could. Often bringing you to the very edge of gluttony induced orgasm. You couldn't get enough of that delicious medley of incomprehensibly pleasurable sensations. The unsettling pressure, the painful ache, the distressful struggle for breath, and that terrifying sense, that you might actually... Explode!
Then, there was the fucking, mind blowing sex. As you lie there in euphoric, bloated, aching distress, rendered helplessly incapacitated and completely at your feeder's mercy. They would descend upon you like an aroused, ravenous wolf, come to slaughter the disoriented and defenseless, fattened sheep. Using you to satisfy their needs, they would lavish you with carnal pleasures, and praise for being such a good pig. Then, when you were teetering on the verge of orgasmic climax, your feeder would reward you, driving you to mind numbing orgasms, and plunging you into blissful, overindulged unconsciousness. It was pleasure pushed to the very limits... A pleasure that perhaps you enjoyed a little too much.
That uniquely pleasurable, overly glutted, euphoric state and the orgasmic pleasure you derived from it, was highly addictive. You soon craved being utterly gorged at every feeding. A desire that your feeder was all too happy to encourage and overindulge... Only serving to exacerbate the situation.
For your feeder, it became a point of personal pride to see just how much food they could cram into you... Constantly pushing your limits, inciting you to go too far, always striving for a new, personal best. Whether achieved voluntarily, through means of incentive, or simply by force... Nothing pleased your feeder more than seeing their fat, greedy pig gorged absolutely senseless.
Likewise, nothing filled you with a greater sense of pride and accomplishment, than pleasing your feeder. Seeing your feeder beaming with pride and arousal was the cherry on top of the pure pleasure you derived from having your gluttonous compulsions overindulged. You never wanted to disappoint your feeder, or fail to meet their expectations... For numerous reasons. Not the least of which, was the fact that your feeder could be quite cruel and perverse when it came to devising punishments for your failures and shortcomings. A predicament that you tried to avoid at all cost... No matter how much you had to eat to keep them happy.
But your incessant need to satisfy your own greedy compulsions, and your desperate desire to belly-up to your feeders expectations, carried with it, a heavy price... 586 pounds worth, to be exact... At last accounting at least.
How could you have ever known things would go this far... Get this out of hand. You didn't mind getting a bit fat, it came with the territory, and you knew how much it pleased your feeder. But you never imagined yourself weighing over a quarter of a ton... It just kind of happened. You were all too easily seduced and entranced by the pleasures of gluttony and the sexual ecstasy that it brought you. Compounding the situation, was the fact that your feeder was just as turned on and compelled by all of this as you were... It created a perfect storm... An insatiable monster.
Not that you had any regrets per se. You certainly enjoyed getting here... You just never conceived that this would be your destination. But now, here you were... Fatter than you could have possibly imagined. Enormously fat... No... Downright obscenely fat, and wallowing on the verge of complete helplessness and dependence. Just how many feedings away from complete immobility were you, at this point?
Though, it wasn't all your fault... Was it? You had plenty of help getting here. Your partner was a natural, Dominant feeder, and there was no reining them in, once they had been unleashed. Things proceeded at a blistering pace under their control. The Dominance, coercion, manipulation, teasing and humiliation that emerged from your new power dynamic, only added to, and enhanced the experience, as well as heightening the symbiotic pleasure that the two of you shared. For your part, you were too lost in the whirlwind of attention, food and sexual pleasure that your feeder plied you with, to be concerned over how rapidly things were progressing... It all just felt, too - fucking - good. You had become theirs... Hook, line and sinker. The power, presence, determination and control they exuded was alluring, exciting, hypnotic and most certainly arousing... Although at times, it could also be quite frightening.
Perhaps some ground rules should have been laid, goals discussed, maybe some limits set. But it was too late to be thinking about that now. Here you were, rapidly closing in on 600 pounds. A prodigious size by nearly anyone's standards. But your feeder showed no signs of slowing down, and a part of you truly feared just how far they planned to take this. Would 600 be enough? Or were they already looking onward to 700?.. Possibly 800?.. Or ghad forbid, 1000 pounds... Or more? What if your feeder intended to simply go on fattening you indefinitely?.. How enormous would you get? The prospect terrified you.
What terrified you even more, was the fact that you knew, ultimately, your sexually charged, gluttonous nature would win out in the end. When push came to shove, your reservations and fears, didn't stand a chance against your gluttonous, pleasure-crazed compulsions. You enjoyed all of this far too much, there was no way you could stop now, even if you wanted to. You would willingly give yourself over to the pleasure, the greed, the gluttony, and your feeder's irresistible, dominating influence, regardless of the consequences. You were a slave to your compulsions and a pawn to your feeder's will. Under their skillful manipulation and coercion, you knew you would be completely helpless to resist. Your feeder knew how to push every one of your buttons. Your lustfully greedy nature was your greatest weakness, and for your feeder, their greatest leverage and means of control.
But such thoughts, concerns and fears were fleeting... Easily dispelled by the next delicious morsel that was waved under your greedy nose.
True to form, within moments your thoughts drifted back to the feeding at hand, as you heard the serving cart being wheeled into the room from behind you. You could smell the delicious aromas before the cart even came into view, causing your mouth to water profusely, and your arousal to spike once more. Your fat ass waggled excitedly as you eagerly awaited the reveal.
As your feeder pulled the cart up along side, you caught your first glimpse of the aroma hinted delicacies. Your eyes widened in stunned awe and your jaw fell agape, when you saw the heavily laden cart. Your greedy excitement quickly turning to concern and fearful apprehension. There was a lot of food there... A hell of a lot! You suddenly began to realize just how full you still felt from your previous feeding. You'd already had two, rather sizable feedings prior to this. There was no way you could have anticipated a feeding of this magnitude as a follow up.
This was the kind of high volume feast, that your feeder liked to refer to as, a pig-stretcher. But just looking at the sheer amount of food on that cart, pig-stretcher, suddenly seemed like an understatement... This was more of a pig-burster! You hadn't seen this much food in a single feeding in a long time... Probably ever. Certainly not on top of the two, rather considerable feedings you'd had already.
While your feeder didn't typically impose time limits for such whopping, gut-busting feedings, they also did not tolerate any dawdling. You were expected to eat, without taking a break, until every last bit of food and drink had been consumed. Anything over an hour, and your feeder would begin practically shoving the food down your reluctant gullet. You weren't sure you could handle this much food even if you had twice that amount of time.
Not only was there an unimaginable amount of food... It was an unimaginable amount of rich, heavy, fucking food, more than generously drenched in various sauces, cheeses and butter. Your belly tightened as your stunned eyes darted back and forth, taking inventory of the overloaded cart's contents.
- For starters, there was a very generous platter of deep-fried chicken tenders, drenched in ranch dressing.
- A family size basket of fries, swimming in thick, rich, brown gravy and copious amounts of cheese. Clearly a nod to Canadian poutine.
- An overflowing, mounded platter of spaghetti, with what must have easily been, three pounds of meatballs.
- An entire loaf of toasted garlic bread, soaking like a sponge in a pool of melted butter.
- A large crock of gooey mac n' cheese, which in all honesty, appeared to be more cheese than anything else.
- And for seemingly no reason at all, other than to fill the last bit of space on the cart. An enormous, triple-decker, bacon cheeseburger, that was barely able to contain all the bacon and cheese that had been piled onto it, not to mention the copious amounts of mayo, oozing from between each layer.
- Then, for dessert, an entire, black forest cake... An entire fucking cake!
- And to wash it all down, 2 large pitchers, which more than likely contained chilled, sweetened heavy cream, or some creative variation. It was typically your feeders, go-to beverage of choice.
There wasn't room on the large, crowded cart for another morsel. A small blessing for which you were thankful, but it was little consolation. As it was, there was easily enough food there to feed at least eight people... Or more! You shuddered to think what else your feeder might have thrown on there, had the cart sported a second tier. The amount of food was insane... And you had eaten some truly insane amounts of food over the past few years... But this!.. This was utterly insane! A nightmare scenario, even for a high-capacity glutton like you... Had your feeder finally found their pig's breaking point? Was this some sort of test, just to see how you would react?
Your belly began to ache, almost feeling as if it were expanding just thinking about trying to eat all of it. For the first time, in a long time, you were truly worried. Failure seemed almost certain, as did the likelihood of horrible punishment. A fate that you truly did not want to face.
As you gazed sickly upon the monumental feeding that lay ahead of you, your feeder began their pre-feeding ritual, caressing and fondling your luscious, blubber-laden body. Admiringly kneading your huge, pendulous belly, palming your broad ass and tracing each, bulging roll as they eagerly explored every inch of their burgeoning, prize pig. Their attentions and arousal intensifying, as they continued meticulously poking, squeezing and probing, as if trying to assess purely by feel, if you had gotten any fatter.
You normally enjoyed this portion of the feeding ritual tremendously, serving as a warm-up of sorts, building your excitement and heightening your arousal for what was to come. Not that you typically needed much incentive to get excited about eating, but your feeders attentions were always welcome and appreciated. This time however, you were too preoccupied with worry, to give in to the pleasure of the moment. Then, your feeder's hand began to travel up between your blubbery thighs. A sensation that normally kicked your arousal into overdrive, but you were so consumed with panic, that you couldn't even enjoy their attentions.
Suddenly your worrisome trance was broken as your feeder exclaimed!.. âOh! You filthy, horny pig!.. The insides of your thighs are already wet and sticky, and I haven't even started feeding you yet!.. What am I going to do with you? You're incorrigible!â
The slick of secretions, a result of the dream you had been pulled from just moments ago. A dream in which you imagined that you were pushed to eat until you thought you were going to literally explode! A dream, which in retrospect, now seemed tame, in light of the reality that faced you.
Your feeder proceeded to wipe their hand on your gelatinous ass-cheek, then administered a sharp smack in mock disgust. Drawing a squealy, little yelp from you. Afterward, returning to their hands-on exploration and appreciation of their ongoing, widening project. Continuing to indulge themselves in your voluptuousness for another minute or two, they suddenly stopped.
âYou seem tense pig. Is something wrong?â They inquired almost knowingly.
You quivered uneasily, your mind racing, struggling with the dilemma of whether, or not, to express your concerns. Your feeder had always made it very clear, that you were expected to eat all that they placed before you. But maybe if you broached the subject subtly...
âTh-th-that's a lot of food.â You finally stammered nervously.
âYes it is.â Came the cold, poignant reply. âI need to keep my pig nice and full.â
After a brief pause in which they could sense your uneasiness, they continued. âI'm going to be stepping up your feedings. I've decided that I want you much fatter pig... The only way to accomplish that, is for you to eat more.â
You trembled with the reality of their statement. In that moment your worst fears were realized. 600 wasn't a goal, or even much of a milestone to them. It was to be a mere bump in the road, to be blown past, on the way to something much bigger.
Not really knowing how to respond, or if you even should, you remained uncomfortably silent, trying to choose your next words carefully. Inciting your feeder was best avoided under the circumstances.
The tense silence hung in the air like a 600 pound cloud, until finally, your growing uneasiness got the best of you. Hoping foolishly, that perhaps you had misunderstood what your feeder said, you decided to question their statement.
âY-you're going to feed me m-m-more? To-to make me... Fatter?â
âWell of course... That is a pig's, sole purpose. To eat! And grow big and fat for their feeder.â They responded matter-of-factly. âBesides, you love to eat more than anything. A greedy compulsion for which I generously provide, all that you could possibly want. In return, I want to have a big, fat pig... An extremely fat pig! Therefore, I am going to be feeding you considerably more, so that you may grow even fatter. You see, we both get what we want... It's a win-win!â
Out of panic and without thinking, you blurted out... âI-I- -I can't eat that much!â
âNonsense pig. I've seen you eat... You can take it.â Your feeder responded dismissively, mockingly patting your pendulous gut. âBeing the greedy pig that you are, you'll likely gobble your way through all of that, and be begging for more.â
Loosing your composure and forgetting your place, you whimpered pathetically. âBuh-but, but I've eaten so much already... I-I, I'm still full from earlier... I-I won't be able to finish it all.â
Clearly growing annoyed by your apparent reluctance, your feeder snapped back... âFull?.. Full?.. Don't be ridiculous pig! It's been nearly two hours since you last ate. I don't believe for a minute that you could possibly still be full!â Your feeder taunted dismissively, as they roughly prodded and jabbed at your bulging, hyper distended belly. âYou've got plenty of room in there!â
With that, you began to break down. Whimpering and pleading... âBuh - but I-I can't possibly eat all of that. I-I-It's too much!â
âPig, I assure you, you can, and you will, eat, every - last - bit of it! I worked hard preparing all of this delicious food for you. The least you can do is show a little appreciation and enthusiasm for my efforts. Or perhaps you would like it better if I just pumped a slurry of lard-based slop down your throat? That doesn't sound like a very appetizing option... Does it pig? But no, instead, I go to the trouble of providing you with good, delicious food, all of your mouth watering favorites... So now, you're going to fucking eat it!â
âOf course, on the other hand. If you choose to continue whining and complaining about it, I will have no choice, but to punish you... Is that what you want pig? If you insist upon resisting and carrying on in such a ridiculous manner, I promise you, this feeding will become quite an unpleasant experience for you. Any more, and I will be forced to add a very large funneling on top of all of that!.. Is that what you want, you obstinate pig?..â
âYou think your miserable, dumpster of a belly feels full now? Just imagine how fucking full it's going to feel, if I have to carry out my threat! And don't forget, there is always another orifice that I can cram full, pig!.. I will fucking pack and over-stretch every bit of space inside of you to the absolute bursting point!.. You'll be left so acutely and painfully gorged, you won't be able to move for a fucking week!â
âOh - oh no - no, p-please don't do that. Please don't punish me!.. I-I - I'll burst!.. No-Nooooo!â
Finally having had enough of your drama and hysterics, your feeder broke into a scolding, lecturing rant...
âThat's enough pig! What in the world has gotten in to you? I've seen you eagerly gorge yourself into unconsciousness more times than I can count, and now you're suddenly intimidated by a little extra on your plate? As for the prospect of growing fatter for me... You certainly didn't show any hesitation gorging your fat, lazy ass to nearly 600 pounds! And now, because âIâ want more, it's suddenly a problem?â
âIf you're worried about getting too fucking fat... I'm afraid that ship has already sailed pig. You've grown so fucking huge, that all you're really good for any more is feeding and fattening! Trying to fuck you has become nearly impossible at this point. Any pleasure I derive now, comes from seeing how much food I can stuff into your fat, fucking ass, and just how fucking fat I can grow you! Seeing you gorged and stretched to your very limits until you fall into a gluttony-induced coma is what gets me off now!... You wouldn't deprive me of my greatest pleasure, now would you pig?â
Too terrified to say anything, you listened on in silence, trembling and praying that your feeder's anger would subside.
âYou've willingly given yourself over to a life of sloth and gluttonous overindulgence you ignorant pig! The consequences of your gluttonous compulsions have rendered you completely dependent upon someone else to serve all of your needs... Well guess what pig... I am that someone! Not only am I your lover, but also your provider and caretaker. Not to mention chief, cook and fucking bottle washer! I bathe you, clean up after you, and make sure you always have clean linens. You're certainly not capable of doing any of that for yourself... Are you pig? I've become a glorified housekeeping service, charged with baby-sitting a helpless, overgrown, spoiled hog!â
âJust look at yourself!.. And I mean that rhetorically pig! I doubt you can actually see much at all, past that mountain of blubber that you've become. You can barely manage to waddle your lard-bloated ass over to the scale for your weekly weigh-in and measurements. All you really do anymore is lay in bed and wait to be fed. You can't even raise your heavy, blubber-laden arms for any substantial length of time. You've essentially grown too fat and lazy to even feed yourself, much less take care of yourself. Content to just lay back and let me do all the work... Where else do you think you're going to find someone willing to take care of you pig?.. Other than perhaps a hog farmer, or some circus sideshow. I guarantee they would never care for you, or feed you, as well as I have!â
âYou enjoy the luxury of laying in bed all day, being generously supplied with all the delicious food you can possibly eat, and being spoiled with copious amounts of sexual attention. All of which, I am of course, more than happy to provide. Your only concerns are eating, cumming and sleeping. But that does not mean that you are completely absolved of obligations and responsibilities. No pig... You are obligated to me!.. To meet âmyâ expectations and satisfy âmyâ needs. To put it simply pig... I expect you to eat all that is placed in front of you, or shoved into your obstinate mouth, and you will grow as fat as I fucking desire... Period! I really don't think that's asking too much, pig.â
âDo you?â
Stunned and horrified, you didn't know how to respond... Or, more accurately, you failed to respond properly. You opened your mouth, emitting a few terrified, little squeaks and finally began to utter... âBuh-...â
The word had no more than begun to come out of your mouth, when your enraged feeder cut you off, growling...
âWrong answer!â
With that, your feeder placed their foot upon your bulging, spongy hip and shoved with all their might, sending you collapsing back onto the bed with all the grace and dignity of an alpine avalanche, or blubber-lanche... If there was such a thing. Luckily, the heavy, steel reinforced bedframe held up, but not without a considerable amount of disconcerting groaning and creaking.
Before your bloated, gelatinous mass even stopped undulating, your feeder was upon you, quickly fastening the oversized wrist and ankle cuffs to your pitifully flailing arms and legs. With your limbs well-numbed from holding yourself up, you were incapable of any resistance.
You found yourself securely restrained before you even realized what was happening. Then working their way meticulously around the bed, your feeder snugged up each of the bindings one by one. Spreading and stretching your splayed limbs toward the edges of the bed, until they were pulled taut.
As you laid there disoriented, huffing and squealing in stunned panic, your feeder suddenly came at you from behind, forcing the large feeding muzzle into your agape mouth, and proceeded to quickly fasten it behind your head.
Your terror escalated, as things had clearly gone from bad, to worse. That sense of helplessness and vulnerability that normally excited you, suddenly became very real. This wasn't playful and erotic. This was forceful, aggressive and full of malicious intent.
With all but your head completely immobilized, you strained to see past your looming dome of a belly, watching on in helpless horror as your feeder proceeded directly across the hall, to the large, walk-in, storage closet. The very closet where they kept all of their feeding equipment, and implements of punishment. The implications causing a chill to run up your spine.
After a moment or two, they began to wheel out some, huge piece of equipment. An intimidating looking machine, towering over six feet in height, consisting of a monolithic, one foot square, black tower, mounted upon a mobile base. With what appeared to be a large hopper, mounted two-thirds of the way up, and sitting atop a very sizable, electric motor. Along with an assortment of hoses and cables that dangled from it, you immediately assumed, that it must be some manner of feeding machine... Except that it was easily more than twice the size of any that your feeder had used on you before.
They rolled the towering device into the room and right up, alongside your bed. It's imposing presence was exaggerated by your bed-bound vantage point, looming over you with all the subtlety of a medieval implement of torture. Though it's true purpose was to efficiently force large quantities of food into uncooperative pigs, your current circumstances made it difficult for you to appreciate the distinction.
Your feeder worked with intent and purpose. Within a matter of minutes, they had the equipment set up, plugged in, and began dumping the platters of food into the hopper at random. There wasn't enough room for all of the food at once, so your feeder put in roughly half of it, beginning with the chicken tenders, fries, mac n' cheese and the whopping cheeseburger. Being certain to scrape every last bit of dressing, gravy and melted cheese into the hopper, so as not to spare you of a single, calorie laden drop. They then proceeded to wet it all down with the contents of one of the pitchers. Leaving the spaghetti, greasy garlic bread and chocolate cake for the second round... A questionable combination of flavors that wouldn't even register with you, until later, when they hit your palate. Flipping the switch, the menacing machine hummed to life, proceeding to grind the pot luck feast into a thick, chunky slurry.
As the machine carried out it's preparations, your feeder next produced a large, U-shaped metal bracket of some sort. Moving around to the head of the bed, they quickly installed this new device into an awaiting receptacle in the bedframe. Adjusting it inward, it now loomed directly above your head, revealing all at once, that it was a clamping mechanism, designed to restrain your head. Your eyes widened in terror and your muffled, panicked squeals increased, as your feeder lowered the wide, curved, leather pad towards your forehead. Out of natural instinct, or perhaps simple, foolish, pig ignorance, you tried to turn away. But your feeder grabbed you securely by the chin, pulling your head back to center and holding you still, as they adjusted the pad, pressing your head firmly, down into the pillow. Next, two, smaller straps were added to the head clamp, dropping down and attaching to the harness currently securing the feeding muzzle in your captive mouth.
Your eyes darted back and forth frantically, denoting your panic. You were now completely restrained, unable to do little more than futilely wiggle your plump hands and feet, or rock your hips a bit, causing your massive, jutting dome of a belly to sway and roll comically.
âI'm afraid your not going to have the opportunity to enjoy all those delicious flavors after all pig... At least not individually.â Your feeder taunted, exhibiting a distinct air of sadistic pleasure, as they surveyed their handiwork with satisfaction.
Grabbing hold of the loose, hose end, your feeder then climbed onto the bed and straddled your vast gut, eliciting a heavy grunt from you, as they comfortably settled themselves down, to ride your wobbling belly. Leaning forward and staring directly into your wide, panicked eyes, your feeder paused for a long moment, flashing a deviously wicked grin. Their intense glare communicating in no uncertain terms, that they, were in complete control.
âAs usual, you get to simply lay back, while I do all of the work... But it looks like I'll be the one having fun today pig.â Your feeder taunted, reaching back and giving your quivering belly a few, firm, patronizing slaps, just as a cowboy might give their horse a smack on the rump.
There was a unmistakeable, sadistic perverseness in your feeder's manner. Given how well prepared they seemed to be, it was obvious that they had been planning all of this for quite some time. Their plan simply hinged upon your fearful resistance to the new feeding mandate, in order to set the wheels into motion. You had been set up, made the sacrificial pig, and now, everything was proceeding just as your feeder intended.
âWhat do you think of my new feeding machine?.. Impressive, isn't it?â Your feeder continued, clearly very pleased with the way things were unfolding. âI had it specially designed and built with you in mind... I've just been waiting for the right opportunity to unveil it and put it to use. I notice you haven't been able to take your eyes off of it, since I rolled it out... It is admittedly, quite an attention grabber.â
Attention grabber wasn't exactly the way you would describe it, you were essentially a captive audience, this whole thing was kind of being forced upon you. Though, your feeder was correct about one thing... You hadn't taken your terror stricken eyes off of it.
âOf course, I realize you can't fully express your thoughts, or reactions at the moment pig.â Your feeder went on. âBut the look in your eyes speaks volumes. Is that intimidation and fear I see?.. Or greedy, lustful excitement? There is often such a fine line between fear, and arousal... Don't you agree pig?â
Your mind was reeling, far too occupied with the horror of your situation, to contemplate the irony, or truth of their statement. You were simply a helpless plaything in your feeder's hands. Their pet pig, about to be subjected to their devious whims. Your feeder truly had complete control now... In retrospect, perhaps they always did.
âAllow me to introduce you.â Your feeder continued, as if proudly unveiling the latest high performance sports car. âYou're going to come to know this machine, along with it's various functions and capabilities quite intimately pig.â
Having no real choice in the matter, you listened on, growing increasingly uncomfortable, as your feeder boasted about their wonderful, new toy and all of it's capabilities. Their detailed rundown providing you with far more information than you ever needed to know... Or wanted to know.
âAhhh' - but this is no ordinary feeding machine... Oh no pig! This is a highly advanced, computer controlled, multi-function, feeding system. Unlike the much smaller, single action, feeding machines that we've played with before, this highly versatile feeder is capable of performing a wide variety of functions.â
âWith a high capacity, 10 quart, stainless steel intake hopper, 2.5 horsepower, electric motor, multiple extrusion ports and plug-in component expandability... This beast is well equipped to challenge even the greediest pig's appetite.â
âBut those are simply it's basic features and specifications. The real heart and soul of this machine, is the fully programmable, touch screen input, offering a versatile array of flow control and delivery options. The digital timer allows for an infinite combination of programmable, release intervals. Coupled with it's variable speed settings, this machine will have complete control over how often, how much, and how fast you will eat... No more casual sucking at the hose.â
âJust to keep things fun and interesting, there are a wide variety of flow control effects to choose from as well. Including: pulsing surge, intermittent burst and speed ramping, just to name a few. There's even a heating and cooling feature, to keep all the food at ideal serving temperature. But, I don't want to give away all of the surprises... Well, OK, I'll share just one more. I can even use the randomize feature, so you'll never know what's coming next. It's like a self-contained amusement park for greedy, gluttonous pigs.â
You were in full panic mode now. You were about to become nothing more than a mere receptacle, completely at the mercy of this diabolical machine and your feeder's perverse desires. Your terror and apprehension grew, as your feeder continued.
âThe machine is of course, still a work in progress. I can already see that I'm going to need to increase the machine's hopper capacity. But that's the beauty of it's design. With it's component style expandability, I can easily augment the machine's capacity, as you increase in size. I can add up to five, additional, intake hoppers, as well as four, high volume, fluid tanks, along the top of the machine, allowing for even greater variety and options. But, all things in good time. For now, the machine will suit our needs, as is.â
âOnce I have this system completely outfitted and accessorized to suit my needs, it will be fully capable of administering and maintaining a complete feeding schedule. From main courses, side dishes and desserts, to an assortment of beverages... Even impromptu snacks and treats. All pre-ground, perfectly moistened, served at the optimum temperature and ready to consume. All you'll have to do is swallow pig... And try to keep up.â
âOh, in case you have concerns regarding what might happen if the power ever goes out, there's no need to burden yourself over it. I've installed a backup generator, so you'll never have to worry about missing a feeding, or... Going hungry. I would never let that happen.â
Your mind was spinning, overwhelmed by the sudden, dark turn your previously simple, happy-go-lucky life had taken. Struggling to comprehend how everything could have gone so bad, so quickly?
You grunted uncomfortably as your feeder paused, leaning forward and laying themselves completely atop of you. Feeling their full weight bearing down upon your nervously churning belly, as they brought their lips close to your ear.
âI want to let you in on a little something pig. I've been looking forward to this for a long time, and now, I have you right where I want you. I'm not just going to be fattening you up pig... Oh-no!.. I'm going to fatten the fuck out of you!.. And there's not a thing you're going to be able to do about it. With the help of this machine, I am going to push you to excesses of gluttony that you can scarcely imagine. You're going to blow up like a fucking, Thanksgiving day, parade balloon!.. Looks like I'll be putting in that order for the overhead hoist I've been wanting, a little earlier than expected.â
Upon hearing this horrifying declaration, you began futilely tugging at your bonds. Going into full, huffing, grunting, squealing hysterics, as you desperately tried to appeal to any sense of compassion that your feeder may have still possessed. Sweat poured from your trembling brow, as you frantically shook your head, repeatedly screaming, no - no - no! But of course, your head hadn't actually budged even a fraction of an inch, and your screams were little more than unintelligible, muffled squeals to your feeder's disinterested ears.
None the less, your feeder wasn't having any of it. Raising themselves back to an upright position and glaring down upon you, with an almost contemptuous air of superiority. They began delivering a series of brutally hard slaps! to your frantically heaving, defenseless belly.
âThat's enough!.. Now, settle down, you ignorant pig!â They growled dismissively, continuing their assault.
Their arousal was inflamed, as they battered the gelatinous dome from left, to right, watching it's blush deepen under their hand. The heavy impacts echoing throughout the room, bringing tears to your eyes, and drawing painfilled, groaning, muffled squeals from your panicked throat. Then, just as quickly as the attack had erupted... Your feeder suddenly ceased.
You had received their message loud and clear, as your frantic, squealing hysterics were immediately reduced, once again, to fear stricken, gasping whimpers. The realization was finally sinking in, that no amount of whining or pleading, was going to help your cause now. Your feeder's intent was deliberate and unwavering... This was truly about to happen.
Taking a moment to recompose themselves, your feeder settled comfortably onto your inflamed, stinging belly once more. Then, flashing a deviously wicked grin, they reached down with their free hand and grabbed hold of your chin, casually flipping the cap of the feeding muzzle open with their thumb. Your rapid, panting whimpers were heard only for the briefest of moments, before the feeding tube was unceremoniously shoved into the opening and clicked securely into place, unequivocally dooming you to your gluttonous fate... Like the final nail being pounded into a coffin.
Then, with all the cold, deliberateness of pronouncing a sentence, your feeder began to speak once again.
âYou will remain restrained and subject to machine feedings for the foreseeable future, undergoing an intensive stretching regimen, until your capacity has been increased to my satisfaction. Then, if I am convinced that your attitude has improved, and you can show me that you are a good, obedient pig, who does exactly as they're told, I may allow you to enjoy solid foods once again. So, precisely how long you remain confined to this bed, being fed through a tube, is entirely up to you, pigâ
Pausing momentarily, your feeder leaned forward, staring intently into your fear-filled eyes and added. âBut know this pig... If you ever make such a ridiculous, obstinate display of defiance again... The machine is always at my disposal, and I will not hesitate to strap you right back down and keep you filled to the bursting point, until you learn the true meaning of obedience.â
At this point, your situation was dire enough. You didn't dare risk digging yourself any deeper. Though it was impossible for you to completely suppress your panicked, whimpers and obvious terror, you did your best to maintain your composure and remain quiet.
Taking advantage of your precariously awkward situation, and truly relishing the opportunity to torment you further. Your feeder decided to share a few more, unnecessary details regarding the machine. Knowing this information certainly wasn't going to benefit you in any way. If anything, it would only give you more to worry about... As was your feeder's, sadistic intention.
âAllow me to share a few, final details, that you might find interesting, pig. The incremental, digital speed control, has a range of 1 to 10. Level one is a slow, steady rate, offering a nice, casual feeding. But you of course, need to be taught a lesson, so I will be starting you off at level 4, and we'll see how you do. Your entire feeding won't take more than 45 minutes. Rather a bit faster than you're used to, but after all, you won't be needing to waste any time chewing. It shouldn't be too hard for a greedy pig like you, to keep up with... For a while, at least. However, well into your second helping, when you begin to reach your limits, I imagine it's going to become far more difficult.â
âHaving that amount of food forced into your stomach probably isn't going to feel very good, pig, but you will get used to it, after a few days on the machine. Besides, you get off on being overly-gorged... Don't you pig? I'm sure you'll do just fine.â
âOnce we've got you packed good n' full, I'll get you set up with a catheter, along with a waste flush and evacuation tube, so we won't have to deal with you soiling the bed... Then you'll be good for the long haul.â It would have been far easier to get all of that inserted before you were restrained... It only makes the procedure more uncomfortable for you. But, my hand was forced, so, we'll just have to deal with the situation that we've been dealt.â
Your pathetic whimpers increased once more, you couldn't help it, your feeder was in your head. But, fragile as your state was, you struggled to maintain your composure, trying not to think about it... Any of it.
Then, your feeder dropped one, last, horrific bombshell...
âIt may also interest you to know, that there is one, additional speed setting... A very special, overdrive setting. That's right pig... This machine goes to 11. At that setting, the machine is capable of discharging it's full contents in less than 60 seconds. Now that's what I call, speed eating! It would be like being fed from a fire hose. Of course, such a procedure requires additional equipment. There's no way you could possibly gulp it all down fast enough. Your lungs would simply fill up and you'd drown... We certainly can't have that. No, we would have to force a hose down your throat and directly into your stomach.â
Your eyes practically flew out of your head, as you struggled to even process the absolute horror of your feeder's last statement. If you weren't absolutely numbed by the absurdity of it, you would have gone out of your mind... But your feeder wasn't quite done yet.
âYour simple pig brain wouldn't even register just how full you were at first. You'd simply experience a tremendous, sudden pressure... It would probably be quite exhilarating for a while. Then after a bit of time, when your nerve impulses finally began to register in you tiny, little, fat-logged brain. I imagine the pain of being filled beyond your limits so rapidly, would become positively excruciating.â
You were absolutely frozen with fear, unable to resolve what actually horrified you more. The fact that someone had built a machine capable of such vile acts of torture, or that your feeder had thought all of this out so thoroughly.
Then, your feeder bated you, offering a glimmer of hope that such a horror might actually be avoided.
âDon't worry pig, I would reserve such severe measures, strictly as a form of punishment, and only in the most extreme of circumstances. I know a good pig like you, would never put me in that position... Would you?
Then turned right around and leveled you with an absolute gut punch...
âNone the less, it would be quite exciting to try at least once... Don't you think? I can just imagine the sight of you literally blowing up like a balloon, right before my eyes. It would be the ultimate feeding experience.â
Part of you truly hoped that your feeder was just mind-fucking you at this point, getting their jollies by tormenting you. It all just seemed too preposterous to be true. You shut your eyes, hoping that you would suddenly wake up from this freakish nightmare that you found yourself trapped in. Surely, this couldn't really be happening.
But you were cruelly jolted back to the hellish reality, as your feeder announced...
âWell, I know your as anxious to get started as I am... So, let's not delay any longer. I hope you're prepared to experience the gorging of your life, pig.â
With that, your feeder flipped the switch and the thick, chunky, slurry of food immediately began to flow into the tube.
Your panting quickened, as your heart pounded out of your chest. Your entire body beginning to tremble with anxiety, as the impending slurry of food made it's way down the clear tube, towards your captive mouth. The anticipation was gut wrenching, as the chunky slurry advanced at a steady pace. A pace which actually didn't seem all that terribly fast at first. But you quickly began to realize, the flow of food was going to be ceaseless and unrelenting. You were going to have to gulp it down rather quickly, just to avoid choking... Gulping constantly, without so much as a moments pause, or rest, for a full, 45 minutes.
Just as your feeder had pointed out, maintaining such a pace was going to be a real challenge, especially as you began to get full. You didn't know how you were going to manage to take it all. If this was only level 4... You couldn't even imagine what the remaining levels were going to be like.
As the slurry inched closer and closer, you braced yourself for the marathon of forced gluttony that was about to ensue. You should have been absolutely terrified in that moment, but instead, you suddenly found yourself becoming strangely aroused. Like a switch being flipped in your brain, your genitals began tingling with that familiar anticipation of an impending feeding... Damn your compulsive, gluttonous nature anyway. You were all at once exhilarated, intimidated, aroused and horrified... But fuck if this whole scenario wasn't hot as hell.
Here you were, helplessly cuffed to the bed, copious amounts of food about to be mercilessly forced down your throat. This is what got you off. This was what you wanted, what you needed, what you craved more than anything.
Your feeder had recognized these traits, and labeled you a pig, right from the start. As these lustful, greedy thoughts drifted through your sexually wanton, gluttony obsessed mind, you realized, that is exactly what you were, and all you would ever be... A pig!.. A greedy, horny, gluttonous, fucking pig!
And for the pig... It was feeding time!
