“Don’t worry. Just keep eating. Everything’s going to be perfectly fine.”
She assures me in that calm, yet stern voice of hers. The one she likes to use to reduce me to putty. The one that got me here in the first place, making an absolute pig of myself, feeling ready to explode!
I wanted to argue with her, to struggle against this, to protest… but I also really badly, desperately, just want to still believe her too. That despite as wrong as all of this seems, maybe I should just sit back, let her keep feeding me. Not try to fight her any longer. Let her do her thing. See where this goes.
I mean despite eating so, so much already, I’m not even the slightest bit satisfied. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this hungry in my entire life! So utterly famished, it’s almost nauseating. Or maybe that’s because I’m also, at the same time, kind of full? It’s hard to explain, & all of this is just so unlike me! And yet I can hardly think of doing anything else right now, but continuing to eat. To let her keep feeding me.
Because, well… it seems like, at the very least, she’s intent on trying to help. Like she’s trying to help me with that. Reach some level of satisfaction. I mean I have no idea where all this food is coming from, but she seems pretty focused. And I’m so hungry, I can hardly think straight. I want to think she has my best interest in mind.
But goddamn, this has all been so much food! The last thing I want to do is think about what all these calories will do to me. Especially so much, all at once.
What am I doing? I mean as wrong as it feels to give in, I’m here literally trying to justify excuses to keep going. To let her have her way with me. All as I watch her go for another cupcake.
Luckily, embarrassingly, my painfully full stomach decides to speak up for me. To push back. It’s both a little humiliating, & yet a bit of a relief to have my body advocate on my behalf in this moment of indecisiveness. It lets out an inhuman gurgling cry, more on the loud side than simply just audible. It makes me wince sharply, & the internal displacement leaves me trying to catch my breath, which I have to do in a measured fashion, as the bigger huffs are a little too uncomfortable for me now. As much as I want to avoid acknowledging my stuffed belly, & all the contents & calories within, & especially with how far it seems to be spilling into my lap at the moment, pinning me to the chair, I don’t want to have it heaving about & shaking too much right now either, as I’m left lowkey gasping.
But then I noticed that she’s staring at me intently, & for whatever reason, I’m making her smirk. I realize I must be quite the sight like this, so impossibly full, struggling to simply breathe right now. Her expression is still mostly calm, which in turn, helps keep me calm. Or at least want to try to. For her. But then? There’s… something else going on too. Something that I can’t quite place. A devilish glint, only going on in like the corners of her eyes.
“I’m sooo proud of you,” she offers up as encouragement, caressing my cheek with her free hand, standing over me. I melt at her initial touch, though I swear my cheek seems rounder, fleshier beneath the delicate, soothing touch of her fingers. All of this food, the consequences should be obvious, but this quickly?
I catch her eyes, trying to stare into mine intently. They’re entrancing. They make me quiver in my seat at the head of the table. And suddenly I realize I’m running out of chair. It’s becoming a bit constricting. But I can’t pull my eyes from her glare. I want to, look down at myself, see all this damage I’ve been doing. See the effect all this food is having upon my poor figure.
But I can’t. I’m locked, looking at her calm, but stern expression. And in turn, I start to calm down. Suppress my anxiety, if even just for the moment. Despite everything, I get the sense that she’s more than happy to look over me. Dote on me. Meet any need.
Other than simply stopping, of course.
“Now keep going,” Her command is not only insistent, it’s flat, direct, & lightning quick. The cupcake in her other hand is being driven right into my face & I have no choice but to try to catch it with an open mouth. And I do so like a pig, biting an apple before being placed upon a spit. I realize I involuntarily kick my legs out a little in reaction. And her stern look breaks to leave out a slight giggle, as I slowly work my teeth into biting the cupcake. She picks up a napkin to pat her excess frosting off my upper lip.
“Eat up, sweetheart,” she directs. “There’s so much more food you need to get through for me. We can’t be wasteful, right?”
This time, it’s the sweet, moist cupcake, leaving my mouth too full to push back. The taste is amazing. Just like everything else she’s fed me. But I’m almost becoming numb to it at this point. Of course it’s amazing. Still, her asking me this, while I have a mouthful? It seems intentional. And that talk of so much more food? It ricochets in my mind almost as a threat.
I really don’t know how much longer I can keep going.
Oh, but I’m still so hungry!
I have to put my foot down. Stand up for myself. Be assertive.
Yet a feel so powerless. So helpless. So completely at her whim.
Is this just my life now?
Her feeding me? Me, constantly eating, & inevitably swelling up like a tick? Fattened up like prized livestock, or probably more apt, a victim from some sort of dark fairy tale?
I don’t even have time to lament as another cupcake comes perilously close to my mouth. And once again, I’m forced to catch it with my teeth. Despite my complete lack of agency, there’s still some solace in the notion that I will be very well cared for, at the very least. Possibly too well cared for, in fact.
As the barrage of cupcakes continues, & she helps me work my way through the tiered tray she plated for me, I feel a sense of regret in not standing up for myself sooner. Before this, there were several other points before this where it would’ve been so much easier. Back when my will was stronger, & when I was still able to move easily on my own. Now, who knows? I could’ve mounted more of a resistance earlier, before I seemed to be so fully entranced by her.
And I didn’t. I just let her feed me.
And as much as her pushiness landed me here, I’m starting to realize that it’s just as much my fault for being stuck to this seat. I let her do this to me. And now, like a fly ensnared in a spider’s web, I’m all hers.
It’s becoming so much easier now to fully give in. With each fleeting second, the more my body seems to push against this ever more constraining chair. In fact, the only thing preventing me now is simply just giving her the satisfaction. But soon, even that won’t be enough to stop myself.
Even now, this whole time as my thoughts race & I try to mount any sort of rebellion? Materially, all I have done physically is stare deeper into her eyes, & munch on a few more cupcakes while being too full to breathe. All dutifully doing as I was told. Like an obedient pet. Growing all the more pliant. And plush.
It’s not like I had a lot going on in my life. But I had options. And now, she seems to have made my mind up for me. And I just went along with it.
All that’s left for me now is to sit here, stuff my stupid face, & get fatter. For her.
And there’s no telling just how much fatter that will even be. She alluded to there being a lot more to eat. And I’m already busting at the seams here. And now, I’m starting to outgrow this chair. Do I eventually get so big I break it beneath my weight? Surely she’d stop before that, right?
As the last cupcake comes swinging towards me, I feel as though I should be a little more self-conscious about getting so fat. Maybe it’s something about her calming expression. Or maybe I would be, if I were under the impression I was ever to leave this place, & end up being several hundred pounds heavier than I first came here. But the longer this goes on, the more she seems to feed me, the less & less I feel like I’m going anywhere ever again.
I still can’t even rationalize what purpose fattening me up would serve. It seems as though she simply gets off on the aspect of control. Making me lose all of mine, & asserting her own over me. Which only seems to grow the same way my sides do. Or the way my resentment for her seems to, as I realize my face has ended up in a slight scowl.
“What’s the matter?” She asks.
I almost panic. Is she really, all of a sudden, letting me get a word in edgewise? Asking me something beyond a yes or no question without a mouthful? I suddenly feel anxious, put on the spot like this.
“I… I…” I can only stammer. I look down at my engorged belly, dominating my lap. The first clear sight of it I’ve had in hours. It’s horrifyingly large, turgid, & alarmingly red. Stretch marks criss-cross it & I’m suddenly even more concerned with breathing too heavily, staring at this part of me that looks as though it’s out of some sort of body horror film. I’m too scared to move the wrong way, fearing it could rupture on me at any second. And beneath that, my hips are firmly wedged between the arms of the chair now. So I couldn’t move, & get away even if I really wanted to! And wouldn’t burst in the process.
Still, I was desperate to fight back. To put my food down. To stand up for myself. And now? Now finally the time had come to do exactly that!
“I… I’m…” I stutter. Her calm, stern expression gives way to a sort of eager curiosity, hanging on my every word, very much interested in what I have to say. And I try, desperately, to reach for the right words.
Instead…
“I’m soooo hun-gry…” Was all that was able to leave my pathetic mouth. I don’t even know where it came from. Not that it was at all a lie. But vocalizing this? Instead of saying what I truly wanted to say? It felt like I was sealing my own fate.
“Oh, of course you are, sweetie.” She caresses my cheek again, putting on something of a doting, patronizing voice while I shrink into my own disappointment with myself. It’ll probably be the last time any part of me shrinks ever again. “Don’t you worry, there’s plenty more! And we have all the time in the world!”
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Just something I had going as a warmup in my drafts folder.
It’s a common premise I return to, but sorry, I enjoy variations on the theme of someone sitting down to be feed by someone, only to have some sort of almost magical compulsion that continues the feeding indefinitely. And I really wanted to explore the control aspect & the rationalization of the person in the chair, helpless to stop themself, even though they could theoretically.
Did it in first person, but kept it pretty vague, so it can be whomever you’d like it to be, I just wanted the magical, entrancing feeder person to be femme presenting. In my head I wanted to have a sort of matronly, Lady Dimitriescu-maybe-just-not-full-on-giantess vibe (though I’ve been considering maybe doing some giantess stuff a little, but that might be for another day). But your mileage may vary. Roll with it however you see fit!
No promises, but the next piece of writing I’m hoping to drop will be the next overdue Bellflower chapter. This was a warmup I just happened to finish before already working towards that.