Big Beautiful Dreamer
ridiculously contented
Why Not?
BHM, Dining, WG, Sex
By Big Beautiful Dreamer
This is my first attempt at a feeder-feedee relationship, and Ive tried to explore a little of the psychological side of it. Tell me what you think! BBD
Christopher stared at the page torn from the personal ads for the millionth time, blinking to bring the small print into focus. I WANT YOU: Financially secure WDF, 35, FFA, seeks open-minded guy, 30-50, to be feedee in serious relationship. Lv. msg. phonebox #7121A.
For the millionth time, also, he thought about answering, then decided against it. Surely that kind of ad would generate a ton of responses. Blinking, he suddenly changed his mind. Might as well leave a message.
The voice in the message was enticing, warm and slightly husky. Hi. This is Paige. If you seriously like the kind of relationship Im after, leave a message. Beep.
Hi, um, Paige? This is Christopher. Id love to be your feedee. Um, call me. He left his number, said, Uh, bye, and hung up.
He turned from the phone to the kitchen trash can, planning to toss the page from the paper, then hesitated. Feeling foolish, he laid it down on the kitchen counter, debating whether to go bar-hopping or stay in. A spattering whoosh against the window made his decision; it had started to rain. Christopher made some microwave popcorn and settled onto the sofa with the TV remote.
The next morning, Saturday, he noticed the page on the counter and went to toss it, but again changed his mind. He thought about calling and leaving another, better message. Maybe shed hear that message first, if the messages landed in her box in reverse order. He had his hand on the phone when it rang, creeping him out.
Hello?
Christopher? This is Paige. She was calling him! Holy cow.
Uh, this is Christopher. He cleared his throat, feeling self-conscious.
Youre interested in the kind of relationship Im looking for?
Yeah, Christopher said, feeling more confident. I always thought it would be fun to just
Eat? Paige finished his sentence with a gurgly laugh.
Well, yeah, he said, laughing with her.
Well, she said, now brisk, shall we meet? Are you available tonight?
He thought about playing hard to get, then decided it would be silly to. Sure.
Carls Country Buffet, she suggested. You know where it is?
OK, he agreed. Yeah. What time?
Six, she suggested. Ill be wearing a red blouse.
All that day, Christopher was in an agony of indecision. All his life hed wanted to explore overeating and being seriously big, but something had always held him back. Hed never even had the nerve to try it a little. At 26, he was 510 and 175 pounds. Absolutely average size, average hair, average looks. What if she took one look and said, No thanks! He was jittery all day. Went for a run, came back, showered, tried napping, went to a movie and walked out after the previews, took another shower, channel-surfed incessantly. Finally it was time to go.
Christopher dressed in a new blue polo shirt and khakis and set off for the restaurant. At the hostess stand, chatting with the hostess, was a woman wearing a red blouse. She was pretty enough, not spectacular, but OK-looking. About 5 foot 6, she was also wearing a beige silk skirt with black and red poppies printed delicately along the hem, low beige heels, and had smooth chestnut hair in a neat pageboy. She looked him up and down, then smiled.
Are you Christopher? She extended a hand for what turned out to be a firm, smooth handshake. Im Paige.
Hi, nice to meet you, he said. The hostess smiled, winked at Paige, then led them to a table.
So, Christopher, Paige said confidently, have you ever been in a feeder-feedee relationship before?
No, he admitted. But Ive always, um, wanted to.
Ive been in a few, she said. I like being a feeder. I used to be pretty big myself, but I had a heart attack two years ago and the doctor said Id better lose weight or die.
Christopher blinked. Wow.
Yeah, Paige chuckled, it was a wake-up call. Anyway I enjoy being a feeder. There are a few informal ground rules. Some feeders draw up a contract, but Im not that way. Heres how Id like it to be. I am, as my ad said, financially secure. Id like you to start dating me exclusively, and if it works out, move in with me when the time seems right. Id like you to agree to eat what I ask you, whenever I ask you. The restaurant, grocery and clothing bills are on me. You can tell me when youre full, but that might not mean that Ill agree to stop feeding you. I wont endanger your health. I know what Im doing. But I think you might be pleasantly surprised to discover how arousing it can be to be totally stuffed. And the sex is better, too. More interesting, more fun, and more satisfying. Ill respect you, and I ask you to respect me. Well re-evaluate every week or two, and any time one of us wants out, thatll be the end of it, no hard feelings.
Christopher had felt himself steadily becoming tumescent during this little speech. Now he discovered the room was a little warm. He gulped some ice water.
Paige, he managed, that sounds great to me.
Well then, she smiled slowly, gentleman start your plates.
They stood and headed for the buffet. Christopher at first took his usual amount and variety of food, but Paige suggested this or that, and sometimes just put stuff on his plate. He returned to the table with the plate piled high.
He began to demolish the plateful, finding nothing particularly exciting in it. When the plate was empty, however, his tummy was full. He drew a deep breath, discovering an unusual stirring in him. There was something oddly arousing about feeling his distended abdomen expand with every breath, feeling his belly stretched tight, feeling his stomach hurt. His parts were girding themselves, and he liked it. Paige scooted her chair around next to his and slid a hand up her leg toward his bulging belly, massaging it. That felt good.
Ready for more? she purred, reaching for the clean plates.
Christopher stifled a belch. Sure.
As he ate on, his pleasure began to diminish as he began to feel a little sick. His waistband was slicing painfully into his swollen belly, stuffed beyond capacity. His stomach ached, his sides ached, his back ached his jaws ached. Paige, however, was very skillful. She massaged his bulging midsection and fed him so languidly that he couldnt resist. Finally, though, he had to quit. If he ate one more bite he would burst.
Stop, he puffed. Stuffed (hic!). No more. He stifled a belch. You did great for your first day, Paige said, helping him up. Dazed, lightheaded, hot, he leaned heavily on her arm and stumbled toward the door.
Ill drive you back to my place, Paige suggested. Well pick up your car tomorrow. They wont care.
Bloated and gorged, Christopher scarcely remembered wobbling out of the car and into her house. He dimly realized she was undressing him, massaging his swollen belly, then nothing.
The next morning, he awoke to find sun streaming through sheer curtains. Paige glided in, bringing a loaded breakfast tray.
Good morning, my dear, she said silkily. Ready for breakfast?
Wow, Christopher said. I could get to like this, he thought. The tray looked like a lavish breakfast buffet with only one place setting. Although Paige occasionally snagged a strawberry or nibbled a bit of croissant, for the most part, she fed him. Propped up on big firm pillows, feeling like a sultan, Christopher ate. And ate.
As with the night before, Christopher began to feel a stirring in his privates, a definite arousal that was partly from Paige massaging his belly and partly from the feeling of being stuffed. As his stomach became taut and distended, bulging out over his shorts, the sensation of his stomach being packed to capacity was making him rock hard in more places than one.
Playfully, Paige drummed on his swollen tummy, making a hollow, thudding rhythm. Christopher found his hand sliding up her back, and Paige responded. Though he was far too full to move around much, Christopher found plenty to explore as Paige twisted sinuously around him, letting him fondle her breasts, tease her velvety parts, and slowly slide a finger along her pelvis, making her shiver with delight. Finally, after an eternity, she mounted him.
As she rhythmically rode his pole, he guided her with his hands, running his fingers up and down her body, her hair, massaging her breasts, tickling her and making her shriek with laughter. Their ride was joyous, exhilarating, and Paige was right: sex was better, Christopher thought, with his belly so full he was about to burst. His aching stomach sloshed heavily as Paige rode him and he rode her and they exploded into each other with moans so loud he was sure someone would call the cops.
Afterward, sated in more ways than one, they lay in bed, languid, replete, Paige with her head on Christophers chest, slowly running her hand up and down his sweaty, distended midriff. The only sound was the clock on the wall lazily ticking the day away. Contentedly, they drifted off to sleep.
BHM, Dining, WG, Sex
By Big Beautiful Dreamer
This is my first attempt at a feeder-feedee relationship, and Ive tried to explore a little of the psychological side of it. Tell me what you think! BBD
Christopher stared at the page torn from the personal ads for the millionth time, blinking to bring the small print into focus. I WANT YOU: Financially secure WDF, 35, FFA, seeks open-minded guy, 30-50, to be feedee in serious relationship. Lv. msg. phonebox #7121A.
For the millionth time, also, he thought about answering, then decided against it. Surely that kind of ad would generate a ton of responses. Blinking, he suddenly changed his mind. Might as well leave a message.
The voice in the message was enticing, warm and slightly husky. Hi. This is Paige. If you seriously like the kind of relationship Im after, leave a message. Beep.
Hi, um, Paige? This is Christopher. Id love to be your feedee. Um, call me. He left his number, said, Uh, bye, and hung up.
He turned from the phone to the kitchen trash can, planning to toss the page from the paper, then hesitated. Feeling foolish, he laid it down on the kitchen counter, debating whether to go bar-hopping or stay in. A spattering whoosh against the window made his decision; it had started to rain. Christopher made some microwave popcorn and settled onto the sofa with the TV remote.
The next morning, Saturday, he noticed the page on the counter and went to toss it, but again changed his mind. He thought about calling and leaving another, better message. Maybe shed hear that message first, if the messages landed in her box in reverse order. He had his hand on the phone when it rang, creeping him out.
Hello?
Christopher? This is Paige. She was calling him! Holy cow.
Uh, this is Christopher. He cleared his throat, feeling self-conscious.
Youre interested in the kind of relationship Im looking for?
Yeah, Christopher said, feeling more confident. I always thought it would be fun to just
Eat? Paige finished his sentence with a gurgly laugh.
Well, yeah, he said, laughing with her.
Well, she said, now brisk, shall we meet? Are you available tonight?
He thought about playing hard to get, then decided it would be silly to. Sure.
Carls Country Buffet, she suggested. You know where it is?
OK, he agreed. Yeah. What time?
Six, she suggested. Ill be wearing a red blouse.
All that day, Christopher was in an agony of indecision. All his life hed wanted to explore overeating and being seriously big, but something had always held him back. Hed never even had the nerve to try it a little. At 26, he was 510 and 175 pounds. Absolutely average size, average hair, average looks. What if she took one look and said, No thanks! He was jittery all day. Went for a run, came back, showered, tried napping, went to a movie and walked out after the previews, took another shower, channel-surfed incessantly. Finally it was time to go.
Christopher dressed in a new blue polo shirt and khakis and set off for the restaurant. At the hostess stand, chatting with the hostess, was a woman wearing a red blouse. She was pretty enough, not spectacular, but OK-looking. About 5 foot 6, she was also wearing a beige silk skirt with black and red poppies printed delicately along the hem, low beige heels, and had smooth chestnut hair in a neat pageboy. She looked him up and down, then smiled.
Are you Christopher? She extended a hand for what turned out to be a firm, smooth handshake. Im Paige.
Hi, nice to meet you, he said. The hostess smiled, winked at Paige, then led them to a table.
So, Christopher, Paige said confidently, have you ever been in a feeder-feedee relationship before?
No, he admitted. But Ive always, um, wanted to.
Ive been in a few, she said. I like being a feeder. I used to be pretty big myself, but I had a heart attack two years ago and the doctor said Id better lose weight or die.
Christopher blinked. Wow.
Yeah, Paige chuckled, it was a wake-up call. Anyway I enjoy being a feeder. There are a few informal ground rules. Some feeders draw up a contract, but Im not that way. Heres how Id like it to be. I am, as my ad said, financially secure. Id like you to start dating me exclusively, and if it works out, move in with me when the time seems right. Id like you to agree to eat what I ask you, whenever I ask you. The restaurant, grocery and clothing bills are on me. You can tell me when youre full, but that might not mean that Ill agree to stop feeding you. I wont endanger your health. I know what Im doing. But I think you might be pleasantly surprised to discover how arousing it can be to be totally stuffed. And the sex is better, too. More interesting, more fun, and more satisfying. Ill respect you, and I ask you to respect me. Well re-evaluate every week or two, and any time one of us wants out, thatll be the end of it, no hard feelings.
Christopher had felt himself steadily becoming tumescent during this little speech. Now he discovered the room was a little warm. He gulped some ice water.
Paige, he managed, that sounds great to me.
Well then, she smiled slowly, gentleman start your plates.
They stood and headed for the buffet. Christopher at first took his usual amount and variety of food, but Paige suggested this or that, and sometimes just put stuff on his plate. He returned to the table with the plate piled high.
He began to demolish the plateful, finding nothing particularly exciting in it. When the plate was empty, however, his tummy was full. He drew a deep breath, discovering an unusual stirring in him. There was something oddly arousing about feeling his distended abdomen expand with every breath, feeling his belly stretched tight, feeling his stomach hurt. His parts were girding themselves, and he liked it. Paige scooted her chair around next to his and slid a hand up her leg toward his bulging belly, massaging it. That felt good.
Ready for more? she purred, reaching for the clean plates.
Christopher stifled a belch. Sure.
As he ate on, his pleasure began to diminish as he began to feel a little sick. His waistband was slicing painfully into his swollen belly, stuffed beyond capacity. His stomach ached, his sides ached, his back ached his jaws ached. Paige, however, was very skillful. She massaged his bulging midsection and fed him so languidly that he couldnt resist. Finally, though, he had to quit. If he ate one more bite he would burst.
Stop, he puffed. Stuffed (hic!). No more. He stifled a belch. You did great for your first day, Paige said, helping him up. Dazed, lightheaded, hot, he leaned heavily on her arm and stumbled toward the door.
Ill drive you back to my place, Paige suggested. Well pick up your car tomorrow. They wont care.
Bloated and gorged, Christopher scarcely remembered wobbling out of the car and into her house. He dimly realized she was undressing him, massaging his swollen belly, then nothing.
The next morning, he awoke to find sun streaming through sheer curtains. Paige glided in, bringing a loaded breakfast tray.
Good morning, my dear, she said silkily. Ready for breakfast?
Wow, Christopher said. I could get to like this, he thought. The tray looked like a lavish breakfast buffet with only one place setting. Although Paige occasionally snagged a strawberry or nibbled a bit of croissant, for the most part, she fed him. Propped up on big firm pillows, feeling like a sultan, Christopher ate. And ate.
As with the night before, Christopher began to feel a stirring in his privates, a definite arousal that was partly from Paige massaging his belly and partly from the feeling of being stuffed. As his stomach became taut and distended, bulging out over his shorts, the sensation of his stomach being packed to capacity was making him rock hard in more places than one.
Playfully, Paige drummed on his swollen tummy, making a hollow, thudding rhythm. Christopher found his hand sliding up her back, and Paige responded. Though he was far too full to move around much, Christopher found plenty to explore as Paige twisted sinuously around him, letting him fondle her breasts, tease her velvety parts, and slowly slide a finger along her pelvis, making her shiver with delight. Finally, after an eternity, she mounted him.
As she rhythmically rode his pole, he guided her with his hands, running his fingers up and down her body, her hair, massaging her breasts, tickling her and making her shriek with laughter. Their ride was joyous, exhilarating, and Paige was right: sex was better, Christopher thought, with his belly so full he was about to burst. His aching stomach sloshed heavily as Paige rode him and he rode her and they exploded into each other with moans so loud he was sure someone would call the cops.
Afterward, sated in more ways than one, they lay in bed, languid, replete, Paige with her head on Christophers chest, slowly running her hand up and down his sweaty, distended midriff. The only sound was the clock on the wall lazily ticking the day away. Contentedly, they drifted off to sleep.
