Discord Piggy

Chapter 1

The shrill scream of a toddler echoed through the grocery store, a high-pitched wail that seemed to vibrate the fluorescent lights above. Amna slowed her pace as she approached the snack aisle, squeezing her cart between a display of cereal boxes, narrowly avoiding the little boy in the midst of a tantrum. His tiny fists clenched around a box of cookies, the very thing his mother had refused to let him have. The child’s cries grew louder, and Amna shot a sympathetic smile to the mother, who was attempting to wrestle the squirming boy out of the aisle. She looked exhausted, like this wasn’t the first time her little one had screamed in protest over something so trivial. 

Amna remembered her own childhood tantrums. She hadn’t been much better at her younger age. But now, as an adult, she had learned to control her impulses. More or less. 

She turned her attention back to the shelves, scanning over the rows of cookies. The bright packaging beckoned her with promises of sweetness and crunch. Her gaze lingered on the Oreos, familiar and one of her favorites. Then, her eyes landed on the Keebler Fudge Stripes, the buttery shortbread was just as tempting, she had been craving them for days. A small smile tugged at her lips as she grabbed both packs and added them to her already overflowing cart. It was stuffed with snacks—chips, candy, sugary drinks, frozen pizzas, and other fatty treats. She took a moment to survey her haul, her heart fluttering with anticipation. The thought of consuming all of it, every sugary, salty, fattening morsel, satisfied the deepest urges within her. Her mind wandered to the weekend ahead, imagining the indulgence, the laziness, and the pleasure of stuffing herself until her belly stretched tight. It made her pulse quicken. 

She smiled, her lips curling slightly at the thought of it. It wasn’t just about the food, though. It was the feeling, the heaviness that would settle in her stomach. The way it would turn her on to know that everything she bought would eventually end up in her gut, making her a little bit bigger, a little bit rounder. She was going to be the ultimate feedee this weekend.

The excitement thrummed through her veins, and she felt a slight warmth rush to her cheeks. 

Five thousand calories a day. That was the goal. As she turned away from the cookie aisle, heading toward the dairy section at the back of the store, her thoughts wandered to her previous attempts. She'd tried this before, of course, tried to push her body past its limits and gorge herself silly for a month, a week, or some other period of time. But she never followed through. She’d get excited at the start, but by the end of the first day, and sometimes even the first meal, the thrill would be gone. She’d be too full and the hunger would fade, and the motivation would slip away like sand through her fingers. This time will be different, she thought. She only had three days this time around. Three days of complete indulgence. No holding back. She could manage that much, right? This time, she was determined to go the full way. And she was already off to a good start. 

She picked up three pints of heavy cream from the dairy section, each one would be a rich, creamy addition to her indulgent weekend. One pint for each day. She added them to the cart with a slight grin. The creamy liquid would go down easily, thick and satisfying, and help her reach her goal of 5000 calories easily.

Amna briefly imagined herself drinking one of the pints in its entirety, her belly rounding out with the excess. The thought of it made her stomach growl in hunger, though it was still pleasantly full from the 1000-calorie fast food breakfast she’d already had. 

Her hands were already starting to feel the weight of the cart, and she could feel the satisfying fullness in her belly as she pushed it toward the checkout. She loved the feeling of being full, how it seemed to pull at the edges of her stomach, a tightness that came with each step. She wasn't huge, not by a long shot. At 5'4" and 155 pounds, she was nowhere near the BBW she longed to be. But she’d get there eventually, starting with this weekend.

When she reached the checkout, the cashier’s eyes immediately landed on her cart. His shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly, like he was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of scanning ahead of him. Amna noticed his reaction with a quiet satisfaction. He couldn’t possibly know that each item in her cart represented a tiny piece of the gluttony she was about to dive into, but she liked the idea of being noticed. 

Her fingers brushed over a row of Snickers bars, and she grabbed a handful, tossing them on top of the pile with a little flourish. She added them almost carelessly, knowing that the candy would only add to the already overflowing caloric intake she had planned.

Chapter 2

Amna heaved the last of the groceries, a pair of hefty 2-liter soda bottles, onto the kitchen counter with a thud. The bottles rolled slightly as she set them down, and she straightened up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face as she took in the sight of her weekend’s indulgence spread across the countertop.

Just as she began unpacking, she heard the light, familiar patter of footsteps coming from the hall. Amna glanced over her shoulder as her roommate, Renee, came rounding the corner. Renee was dressed casually in a distressed, graphic t-shirt and high-waisted flare jeans, exuding an effortless, natural beauty as she sauntered into the kitchen. She stopped short, raising a brow as her eyes swept over the mountain of food. 

"If you're planning on throwing a party or something," Renee said, brushing her long blond braids over her shoulder, "just keep people out of my room, okay?"

Renee was every bit the tall, athletic beauty Amna often admired, her caramel skin glowing against the white of her shirt, her figure perfectly toned yet soft in all the right places. She had the sort of presence that naturally drew people in, a warm, casual confidence that came easily. Compared to Renee, Amna sometimes felt invisible, though she was practical enough to know that she was pretty, too. “Too pretty to get fat,” her mother would often ‘lovingly’ say. With pale skin and dark, Middle Eastern features, her black hair and large, expressive brown eyes were perhaps her most noticeable qualities. And yet, standing next to someone like Renee, she couldn’t help but feel a longing for change. One day, she thought, she’d have curves so dramatic that the contrast between them would be even more obvious. 

The thought made her blush, especially now, watching Renee eye the spread on the counter with a casual curiosity, assuming it must be for a group. Amna cleared her throat and shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.

“Nah, no party,” she said, letting out a soft laugh to cover her amusement. “Just a chill weekend in, I guess.”

Renee gave her a slow nod, casting a final look over the groceries, and then shrugged. She wasn’t one to pry; Renee had always been the “you do you” type, and it was one of the reasons Amna liked living with her. They’d known each other since college, growing closer over the years before moving in together after graduation. Renee was easy to get along with, relaxed in her approach to almost everything, whether it was her friendships, her love life, or her ever-evolving spiritual interests. She was constantly introducing Amna to crystals, incense, herbal teas, and every kind of plant imaginable, filling the apartment with greenery. They thrived under Renee’s attentive care, just as Amna had begun to thrive in their peaceful, easygoing friendship.

"All right,” Renee said, flashing Amna an encouraging smile. “Enjoy your weekend, then! I’ll be back Monday.”

Amna watched as Renee picked up a duffle bag she had set down near the door. She knew Renee was off to a weekend retreat with her boyfriend and some other friends, though the details had slipped her mind. She’d been invited too, of course, but she hadn’t been about to miss out on the chance for an uninterrupted weekend alone, a weekend she’d dreamed about all week. It was a perfect opportunity to truly dive into her fantasy without a single interruption.

Renee swung her car keys around her index finger, her rings flashing in the kitchen light as she grinned. “See ya, girl! Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything, okay?”

Amna smiled warmly, grateful for the reminder, even if she had no intention of needing anything from Renee this weekend, except for space. She walked over and gave Renee a quick hug, her hands brushing against the beaded bracelets and woven bangles that adorned Renee’s wrists.

“Drive safe,” Amna called as Renee slipped out the door, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet that followed. The door clicked shut behind her, and Amna was alone.

Amna lingered in the silence, feeling a shiver of excitement as she stared at the door. Renee’s absence settled into the apartment, making the space feel more intimate and private, like a sanctuary. She turned back to the kitchen counter, taking in the bags of food spread out before her. She was finally alone, with no one around to notice her indulgence, no one to interrupt her, no one to question the heavy meals she’d prepare for herself.

Amna dug through the bags on the counter, smiling as she pulled out the frozen pizza she’d been looking forward to. She tore open the box and ripped away the plastic. It wasn’t anything gourmet, just a classic pepperoni pizza with pools of cheese scattered around, but she knew once it was hot and melty, it would taste just perfect.

She switched on the oven, not even bothering to wait for it to preheat as she slid the pizza onto a baking tray and placed it inside. She closed the oven door, staring at the raw pizza through the glass as if she could will it to cook faster. Waiting wasn’t her strong suit, especially not when it came to food. There was a stirring excitement in her belly; she couldn’t wait to start filling herself again.

Turning back to the remaining groceries, Amna began stocking the fridge and pantry. She loved seeing all her snacks lined up, each a little pleasure waiting to be unwrapped. Cans of whipped cream, a pack of donuts, frozen tubs of ice cream, sugary sodas, salty chips. She stacked them neatly, eyeing the shelves as they filled up. She felt a warmth creep through her as she imagined devouring it all, visualizing every calorie settling into her frame. Her stomach gave a tiny, impatient grumble as if agreeing with her plans, and she smiled, patting it affectionately.

Checking on the pizza, she could see the edges starting to brown and the cheese beginning to bubble. Now that she had the apartment to herself, she could stuff herself as much as she wanted, wherever she wanted. She rarely got to have heavy meals lazing on the couch, as Renee or one of their friends was always around, but today she could. She turned her focus to setting the scene, going to her bedroom to grab the cheap tripod she’d bought online years ago from her nightstand drawer. The video would be just for her, and would likely never leave her phone. But she loved recording her stuffings to watch back later, obsessing over every new inch of softness on her frame and comparing them to her older ones to reassure her that she really was making progress. They were also great to pleasure herself to.

She returned to the living room and set up the tripod in front of the couch, positioning it carefully to get the best possible angle. Amna clicked her phone into place, opening the front-facing camera to check the view. She took a moment to tilt and adjust it, angling it so it would focus squarely on her small stomach. It wasn’t much, just a slight roundness that poked out when she relaxed. But she loved seeing it, watching the way it rounded out during a binge.

The ding of the oven timer pulled her out of her thoughts. The smell of melted cheese and spicy pepperoni filled the kitchen, making her stomach growl even louder. She grabbed the oven mitts and pulled the tray out carefully, placing it on the counter as waves of heat rose up, carrying the delicious scent with them. Amna knew she should wait for it to cool, but with all the food she had planned to devour, she didn’t want to waste any time. She grabbed their dull pizza cutter and pressed down, doing her best to slice the pizza into four slightly uneven quarters, the cheese stretching and oozing between each piece.

Balancing the pizza on the largest plate she could find, she snagged one of the 2-liter sodas from the fridge and headed back to the living room. She set everything down on the coffee table and took a deep breath. She unbuttoned her jeans, letting her small belly breathe a little, and then slipped off her shirt, leaving her in her simple B-cup bra. She settled down on the couch, positioning herself to the side so that the camera would capture every little detail, from her belly button to the slight curve where her stomach stuck out.

She pressed record, watching herself come to life on the screen, her stomach exposed, looking just a little rounder than her last video weeks ago, if she wasn’t mistaken. She picked up one of the steaming pizza slices, blowing on it gently to cool it. The melted cheese was gooey, stretching as she lifted it, and the warmth in her hands made her even more eager to take that first bite. She brought it to her mouth, and bit into it.

She chewed slowly, savoring the greasy, cheesy mouthful, her hand drifting down to give her belly a playful rub. She loved feeling her belly as she ate, pressing her fingers against the soft flesh, imagining how it would look by the end of the weekend—rounder, softer, fuller. The thought sent a little wave of arousal through her, and she couldn’t help but be a little greedy with her next big bite, her free hand still toying with the soft skin just above her hips.

As she finished the first slice, she felt her stomach starting to fill up again, a pleasant fullness that was becoming more familiar each time she indulged like this. She shifted a little on the couch, feeling the soft give of her belly as it brushed against her open jeans. Taking a sip from the 2-liter, she let the sugary fizz wash down her first slice, adding to the heaviness in her stomach. She knew she had three more slices to go, and plenty of snacks waiting in the kitchen for later, but that just made her more eager.

Amna took her time, savoring each bite, her hand still resting on her belly as she chewed, constantly adjusting to make herself look as tubby as possible. As she glanced at herself on the camera, watching the slight changes with each bite, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride and excitement.

Chapter 3

And now that excitement was gone. All of it from earlier in the day had drained away, dissolving right alongside her motivation. Now, she was sprawled out on her bed, her laptop propped up in front of her as a YouTube video droned on. It was a few hours after she’d stuffed herself with that pizza, yet she was still so full she couldn’t think of eating anything more. She’d tried nibbling on snacks here and there, lazily reaching for a handful of chips or a couple of cookies to keep her calorie count up, but the thought of consuming anything substantial was out of the question.

With a sigh, she tried to calculate her intake in her head. She’d probably made it to around 4,000 calories, not bad by most standards but short of her goal for the day. What else did you expect? she thought, rubbing her bloated stomach. She pushed her hand against it, feeling its fullness but also its softness. She sucked in slightly, just to see if she could. She sighed, disappointed at how it flattened out again.

“It’s not fair,” she mumbled to herself, deflated. Amna had spent hours scrolling through the profiles of other feedees online, marveling at how much they could eat in a single sitting, how their bodies filled out so quickly. She’d seen them flaunting every new inch of fat, every added pound, but no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get her body to respond the same way. It felt impossible, like there was some secret that everyone knew except her.

The need for some validation, any reassurance, pulled her to her feet. She padded down the hallway, grabbing her phone on the way to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, she lifted her shirt slightly, eyeing her belly, then her arms, her thighs. She looked herself over critically, cataloging every flaw she saw, every bit that didn’t quite meet her goal. No one would even call you fat, she thought, a harshness in her gaze. Her hand tightened on her phone.

With a practiced motion, she raised her phone to cover her face in the reflection, angling it just right as she pushed her belly out as far as she could. She lifted her shirt a little higher, contorting her posture to emphasize what little curve she had, willing herself to look like the feedees she admired. She snapped a few shots, checking each one, and once she was satisfied, returned to her room, flopping back onto her bed with a sigh. She pulled up the Feabie app, scrolling through her library’s photos before selecting the best new shot and uploading it. Within seconds, the likes and comments began to trickle in, little heart-eyed emojis or words of praise, telling her how “huge” she was getting, how “cute” her belly was.

For a moment, she felt a flicker of pride, imagining that maybe, just maybe, she was really making progress. But as she continued reading, the feeling quickly faded. Instead of feeling motivated, the comments only made her feel worse. She hadn’t reached any of her goals; she was barely chubby, let alone close to what she wanted to be. She felt almost like an imposter, as if these people were praising her for something she didn’t deserve.

Several messages appeared in her inbox. Most were the usual greetings of “hey,” “how are you,” and generic compliments. Amna replied with a quick ‘thanks’ to a guy who had sent a compliment on her new photo, trying to muster up some gratitude for the attention. A moment later, he sent another message. She opened it, expecting another harmless attempt at conversation, only to find a message that took her aback: ‘Still not fat enough tho.’

She stared at the screen, feeling a small stab of irritation. Most men showered her with shallow praise, sticking to the same polite comments, but this guy had decided to go straight for her biggest insecurity. She opened his profile—Blakob98. There wasn’t much to go on: a couple of faceless pictures of his torso, toned and muscular, his abs visible even through the grainy quality of the photos. She scoffed, feeling a surge of annoyance.

Back in their chat, she typed out a response, feeling a strange need to defend herself, even to someone as blunt as him. ‘Yeah, well. I’m working on it,’ she typed, her fingers tapping harder than usual.

‘Are you?’ his message popped up on the screen, the words simple yet stinging, making Amna’s brows knit in frustration. Who does he think he is? she thought, biting her lip. The nerve of him to question her, as if he knew anything about her struggles or how hard she’d been trying. Despite her irritation, her fingers moved to type, spilling out a message longer than she intended.

She explained what she’d tried today, how she’d packed her grocery cart with snacks, planned out her meals, even pushed herself to eat more than she thought she could. She confessed how eating so much wasn’t easy for her, how no matter how much she loved the fantasy, the reality just didn’t come as naturally. The words tumbled out, a strange mix of embarrassment and frustration. She didn’t owe him an explanation, but some small part of her wanted to be understood, maybe even taken seriously.

After she hit send, the seconds stretched into moments, her heart thudding a little faster with each one. She didn’t know what to expect, but when his response finally came, it was almost underwhelming.

‘I can help you if you want’

Amna blinked, feeling a wave of disappointment mixed with something like exasperation. Help me? It was clear what he meant. She imagined him offering hollow words of encouragement, expecting pictures or videos in return, like so many other self-proclaimed feeders she’d met. He wanted her to think he could solve everything just by showing up, but she’d seen this pattern too many times before.

Still, she typed out a quick reply: ‘how so?’

‘Add me on discord,’ he replied without hesitation, including his username.

‘I don’t have one,’ she said, her irritation creeping into her fingers as she typed. It felt like a small victory to throw some resistance his way, but he immediately countered with a response that made her grimace.

‘So make one then? duh lol’

The irritation flared hotter. He’s so rude, she thought, rolling her eyes as she closed the app and focused back on her YouTube video. But the humor she’d found in her annoyance faded quickly as boredom took over. Her hands found their way to her belly, as they often did, casually exploring the light padding of fat she maintained. Her mind eventually drifted back to Feabie, to Blakob98. She couldn’t help but wonder, maybe having a feeder really was what she needed, someone to keep her accountable. If she couldn’t motivate herself, maybe someone else could. She just needed to find the right one. It was worth giving it another try. Before she knew it, she had her laptop pulled toward her, opening a new tab.

She typed “Discord” into the search bar, quickly downloading the app and creating an account, a mix of curiosity and reluctance tingling in her chest. But her actions seemed to have a mind of their own. With Discord set up, she returned to Feabie, double-checking Blakob98’s username before sending him a friend request.

It didn’t take long for him to accept, and almost immediately, a call request appeared on her screen. Her heart gave an anxious thump as she clicked to accept, hearing a deep, husky voice break the silence.

“Well, that took forever.”

The screen switched to video, and there he was, the same torso and shoulders from his photos on Feabie, now encased in a fitted black T-shirt that hugged his muscles perfectly. She could see the taut lines of his chest, the curve of his shoulders filling out the fabric. Clearing her throat, Amna steadied herself.

“Well, I wasn’t sure I was going to at first,” she replied, angling her laptop to keep the camera from capturing her face. With a hesitant hand, she turned on her video, positioning it so he could only see a faint view of her upper body.

“What made you change your mind?” he asked, a note of amusement in his voice. He reached to the side, grabbing a water bottle from the desk he was sitting at and taking a slow drink, his bicep lifting into frame. The muscle was firm and defined, casting shadows under the blue and purple glow of LED lights that bathed his room.

“I don’t know,” she admitted softly, feeling her cheeks grow warm. The truth was, she didn’t have an answer, at least not one she was willing to give.

The man leaned back, his gaming chair swaying slightly as he settled into it, his demeanor as calm and unwavering as if this were a routine interaction. Amna wondered if he’d done this a thousand times before, if other feedees had been in the exact same position.

“Take your shirt off,” he said, his tone low and nonchalant.

Chapter 4

Amna nearly laughed, caught off-guard by his blunt request. The nerve, the sheer audacity of it, and the casual, commanding tone he used. “What?” she replied, incredulous. “No.”

“I’ll go first, if you want,” the man said, unfazed. And with that, he smoothly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere behind him, settling back into his chair. “Now you,” he said, rolling his shoulders, the motion making his muscles shift under his skin, broad and toned.

Amna’s mouth went dry as she took in the sight. Whatever annoyance she’d felt ebbed away, replaced by a strange, tugging thrill at the sight of his bare chest. She swallowed. “Why?” she asked lamely, knowing it sounded weak but unsure what else to say.

He chuckled softly, a deep, rough sound that slid through the speakers, raising goosebumps on her arms. “What? You can post a topless photo, but now you’re shy? Take your top off, fatty.”

Amna’s heart skipped, her thoughts skidding to a halt. Fatty? The word echoed in her mind. She’d never been called that, or anything like it, but she dreamed about it all the time. It sent a wave of warmth through her, but at the same time it felt like a tease, almost like a dare. Before she could overthink it, she lifted her shirt off and set it down beside her, a sudden, bracing chill prickling over her skin.

For the first time in a long time, she felt a genuine self-consciousness about her size. Did he really want to see her like this? It almost didn’t make sense, a fit, muscular man like him wanting to see her soft body, her plushness laid bare. She sucked in instinctively, trying to make herself look smaller.

“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice firm, almost gentle. He leaned forward slightly, his body moving closer to the camera.

“Do what?” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Suck in your stomach like that. Let it out.”

Amna hesitated, feeling warmth rise in her cheeks. She wasn’t sure why she was reluctant. If he was on Feabie, he had to like fat girls, didn’t he? She took a steadying breath, feeling her stomach ease forward, bowing out slightly.

“Better,” he murmured, leaning back in his seat. After a moment, he asked, “What do you have to eat?”

The question threw Amna for a second, and she blinked, trying to think. “Umm,” she stalled, trying to find a response. The answer was ‘a lot.’ Her kitchen was packed with junk food and snacks she could gorge on, but her appetite was still fully sated since her last binge. She wasn’t in the mood to eat, especially not in front of him, a stranger.

Then she remembered. “I have…heavy cream,” she said, almost sheepishly.

“Go get it,” he replied instantly. He gently swiveled in his chair, picking up a Rubik’s cube on his desk and idly twisting it. The motion was almost dismissive, as if she were just a passing curiosity. But for some reason, Amna didn’t mind. She almost…liked it? His cool detachment made her want to do it even more. His voice, that teasing name “fatty” kept echoing in her head. She wanted to hear it again.

She got up and walked to the kitchen, her mind buzzing with a strange excitement. Pulling open the fridge, she grabbed a pint of heavy cream and quickly returned to her room. She settled in front of her laptop, the pint resting awkwardly in her hands.

The man stopped fiddling with the cube after a moment. “You want a countdown or something? What are you waiting for?” His voice was casual, a bit snarky. But it was laced with a tinge of interest.

Amna pressed her lips together, giving the pint a quick shake as if it would somehow steel her nerves. She twisted off the cap, peeled back the tab, and turned slightly to the side, feeling the sudden heat of the camera on her.

Why am I doing this? The thought flitted across her mind, but it was drowned out by the soft thrill of knowing he was watching. She lifted the carton to her mouth and let herself get lost in the moment, tilting it back as she began to drink.

Amna took a few gulps of the heavy cream, letting the thick liquid pour down her throat. But after just a few seconds, she had to pause, her mouth coated in its richness, her stomach already feeling the weight of it. She wiped a dribble from her lips and lowered the carton, gasping slightly at the thickness lingering on her tongue.

"Is that all you can manage?" came the man’s voice. He set down the Rubik's cube, leaning back into his chair, elbows braced on the armrests with a sense of supreme ease. Amna wished she could see his face, certain his expression would match the smugness she heard in his voice.

“No," she replied, feeling a prickle of defensiveness. "It’s just...really thick and cold.” She hesitated, then added, “Plus, I’m already pretty full.” The words slipped out before she could catch them.

He leaned forward at that, and her breath hitched slightly as she saw the way his pecs flexed, broad and solid. His voice dropped to a tone that was suddenly softer, almost predatory. “You want to get fat, don’t you?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the question and the note of certainty in his voice. A small, embarrassing flush bloomed in her cheeks. “Y-yeah,” she stammered, barely above a whisper, surprised by her own answer. It was the first time she’d ever said it aloud, to anyone.

“Then chug it,” he replied firmly, no room for hesitation in his tone. Amna took a shaky breath, steeling herself as she raised the carton once more to her lips. She tilted it back, letting the cream flow thickly into her mouth, sliding down her throat with a weighty richness that both thrilled and overwhelmed her.

A few seconds in, she heard him sigh softly, a slight edge of mockery to his tone. “What a pig.”

The words hit her like a jolt, and she froze mid-drink, her eyes widening. She’d never been spoken to like that before, so blunt, so dismissive, and yet... so enticing. The unexpected harshness sent an instant surge of heat through her, making her feel a strange, conflicted sense of arousal.

“I didn’t say you should stop,” he added smoothly, and she felt the blush deepen as her stomach fluttered. She brought the carton back to her lips, pushing away the urge to question herself, and continued to drink. This time, she went faster, feeling her cheeks heat as she imagined his eyes watching every gulp.

“There you go,” he murmured approvingly, his voice softening. “All of that is going to make you even fatter by tomorrow.” He paused. “Rub your belly.”

Amna’s fingers tingled as she moved her free hand to her stomach, shyly pressing against the soft swell that had grown tighter under the steady weight of the cream. Her hand traced the side of her stomach first, feeling the way it bowed out slightly, before she let her fingers drift lower, cradling the slight softness at the bottom. As she shifted, her fingers moved higher, brushing over the upper curve where her fullness was most pronounced.

“You feel that?” he asked, his voice wrapping around her like a whisper in the dark. “You’re packed tight, aren’t you? And still, you’re chugging that cream like you need it.”

A shiver ran down her spine, and she was barely able to hold back a moan as the tension in her belly grew tighter. She’d never felt so full, more than she’d have ever pushed herself on her own. But something about his presence, his taunting, edged her on, feeding her desire to keep going, to push herself further.

“You’re going to get huge,” he continued, his words sinking into her mind, fanning her excitement. “I can already tell. If you keep being as greedy as you are right now, you won’t even be able to suck in that belly of yours.”

The thought sent a delicious tingle through her, and this time, a small, soft moan escaped her lips. Her fingers tightened over the soft swell at her middle as she imagined herself that way—her belly spilling forward, round and plush, unable to be hidden or downplayed. The image of her body growing, becoming undeniably softer, settled in her mind, and she could feel her resolve weaken as she eagerly tilted the carton further back on her lips, sucking down the last of the cream until she had to gently shake the carton to get every drop.

She let the empty carton fall beside her on the bed with a sigh, feeling the dense fullness settle heavily in her stomach. Her whole body felt warm and pliant, her breaths deepening with the weight pressing down from inside her. She leaned back on her hands, head tilting back, still basking in the lingering thrill of his words.

As she caught her view on the screen, she took in the way her belly pressed outward, tight and round, unmistakable. She ran her hand over the curve again, a soft moan escaped as she bit her lip and savored the sensation, marveling at how full and sexy she looked, at how undeniably different her body felt in this moment.

“What’s your name?” His voice interrupted her reverie, snapping her back to reality.

“Amna,” she replied without a second thought, breathless. She didn’t even think about whether it was smart to tell him her real name, it didn’t matter. In the state she was in, she’d have told him anything he wanted to know.

“You want me to make you fat, Amna?” The way he said her name, hearing it on his lips, sent another shiver through her. She felt herself melt slightly at the sound of it, her breath catching in her throat.

“Yeah, I do,” she whispered, straightening a little, feeling bolder and yet more vulnerable than ever.

There was a pause as he leaned closer to the camera. Amna could somehow feel his eyes on her, taking her in, even if she couldn’t see them.  “Okay,” he murmured. Then, without another word, he reached for his mouse, his hand hovering for a moment before clicking, and he abruptly left the call.

Amna stared at the empty screen, blinking in surprise. Her mind reeled with a mix of disappointment and exhilaration, her heart still pounding from the rush of the call, her skin still tingling with his voice in her head. She glanced down at herself again, her hand drifting over her stomach, feeling the last traces of his words linger in the fullness pressing against her hand.

Chapter 5

Amna took a big bite of her toasted bagel, savoring the thick smear of blueberry cream cheese that filled her mouth. The sweet, fruity notes mingled with the creamy richness, and she loved how indulgent it made her feel. She'd already had a full breakfast, and she still had lunch to look forward to soon. But the bagel, her second so far, would serve as a decent snack before then. She chewed thoughtfully, reveling in the mild stickiness on her fingers and the creamy residue left on her lips, lazily licking them clean as she padded through her apartment.

With Renee gone, Amna had the place to herself, and she relished the rare opportunity to feel and look as fat as she wanted. Her body, clad only in a bra and a pair of cheeky pajama shorts, felt soft and free in the gentle air circulating from the window she’d cracked open. She ran a hand over her bare stomach, enjoying the plushness of her belly, the way it poked out proudly, looking slightly fuller and rounder than usual. Last night’s indulgence with Blakob98 had left her feeling… bigger, somehow, even though it was all in her head. That lingering sensation, of being bloated, heavy, and greedy, stirred something in her every time she thought about it. She’d feel a subtle surge of arousal, and a not-so-subtle urge to fill her mouth.

She dropped onto the couch, sinking comfortably into the cushions, and lifted her phone. Navigating to her photos, she pulled up the video she’d taken after her call with him. She watched herself on the screen, sprawled out on her bed, her face flush with satisfaction, rubbing her gut in slow, deliberate circles. She’d even caught herself moaning in the video, her hand roaming the soft, full roundness of her belly, the pure pleasure and arousal clear on her face. She smiled now, feeling a tingle bloom in her belly. This video was now her new favorite, she’d already pleasured herself to it last night, and again this morning, basking in the memory of how full, how heavy, she’d felt, and how he'd urged her on.

The thought of getting there naturally, of looking that full and round even when she was empty, filled her with an unexpected, thrilling motivation. She wanted to feel and see that kind of softness on herself all the time, to reach that roundness without needing a late night chug of heavy cream.

She closed her photos app and opened Feabie, checking her messages for what felt like the dozenth time that day. As soon as her inbox loaded, she pulled up her chat with the man from last night. Still no response. A faint twist of disappointment tugged at her, but she tried to brush it off. She’d sent him a few messages, both on Feabie and Discord, trying her best not to come off as too desperate, but it was hard to conceal her eagerness. She really wanted to talk to him again, to hear that teasing, flippant tone that had pulled her right in and left her feeling things she hadn’t expected. The way he’d spoken to her, the way he’d pushed her with that cool, taunting edge, was intoxicating.

She’d been riding the high of having passed her calorie goal yesterday, replaying their interaction in her mind, savoring every word and every feeling it stirred up. But the longer she went without a response, the more her mind began to race with little doubts. She told herself he was probably just busy. It was Saturday, after all, and maybe he had other plans. She knew she wasn’t entitled to his attention; they’d only met half a day ago. And yet… she wanted it, craved it, especially this weekend, when she had ample opportunity to indulge and let herself feel as spoiled and as full as she could.

Her thoughts drifted back over their conversation, anxiously picking through every detail, wondering if she’d done anything cringeworthy. Had she said something embarrassing? Had her display of gluttony been too much, or worse, not enough? She struggled to remember, but all she could think of was the thrill of last night, the intensity of the moment. Nothing seemed like it would’ve put him off, but the longer she waited, the more doubt snuck in.

“Stop overthinking,” she muttered to herself, shifting on the couch and taking another big bite of her bagel. The familiar taste and warmth of the bread softened the edge of her anxiety. Letting herself sink deeper into the cushions, she switched apps, opening TikTok, the familiar scroll a temporary distraction from the pangs of anticipation.

Amna let herself sink into the easy distraction of funny, cute, and sometimes irritating videos. She laughed out loud at a cat pawing at a bubble, rolled her eyes at a couple making a show of some cringe-worthy proposal, and felt a small pang of envy at a girl’s flawless makeup tutorial. It was the kind of lazy entertainment that made the hours slip by before she even realized. After a while, she felt a low rumble in her stomach. Cooking was out of the question; she was far too cozy on the couch for that, so she reluctantly closed TikTok and opened DoorDash.

Her fingers hovered over a few options, scrolling through her recent orders, but she settled on Chick-fil-A, adding more to her cart than usual. She stacked up two spicy chicken sandwiches, some extra nuggets, a large fries, and a chocolate milkshake for good measure. She felt a small, guilty thrill as she saw the total, imagining just how full she’d feel after devouring all of it. Just as she checked out, a notification popped down at the top of her screen, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the name.

Blakob98.

Amna’s pulse quickened as she clicked on the notification, opening Feabie in record time. His message read, ‘what do you want.’ She stared at it for a second, feeling an odd mix of excitement and… was that offense? His tone was dismissive, almost rude, and she could practically feel the chill through the screen. But the abruptness didn’t dampen her excitement. It was a message from him, finally, after hours of waiting. Still, the dismissiveness made her pause. What do I want?, she thought. The answer wasn’t simple, and it wasn’t something she could just blurt out. She certainly couldn’t say she wanted him to tease and encourage her some more, that she’d spent half the day thinking about him.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She typed out, ‘I didn’t catch your name.’ It felt like an innocuous enough way to ease into the conversation. She hit send, her heart racing slightly, and waited.

A few minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last. Then, finally, another notification. ‘Blake,’ his message read.

She smiled to herself. Blake, that makes sense, she thought, considering his username. Somehow, he even seemed like a “Blake.” She typed out, ‘Good to meet you lol’ and sent it, hoping it would spark more conversation. But then the minutes began to stretch again, his silence becoming more conspicuous as her excitement deflated.

Amna chewed her lip, feeling an uncomfortable mix of nervousness and frustration. She tried to keep it cool, reminding herself that he’d responded at least, which was something. But she wanted more. She wanted to talk to him, to feel that same thrill she’d felt last night. Maybe he needed a little nudge to get talking. She typed another message: ‘How’s your day been?’ It felt like a safe, friendly way to keep things moving, a direct question he’d hopefully feel compelled to answer. She hit send, and waited again.

But nothing. 

She tapped her nails against her phone, feeling her impatience bloom. Trying to distract herself, she switched on the TV and opened a streaming app, half-listening to episodes of a sitcom she liked. But her eyes kept drifting back to her phone. She checked Feabie again, no new messages. Then Discord, he wasn’t even online. Each check made her stomach knot tighter, a mixture of nerves and irritation. She felt ridiculous, sitting there, waiting for some guy she barely knew to grace her with a response. Hadn’t he been the one who offered to help? The one who had reached out to her in the first place? Now it felt like he’d vanished. It was like he’d flipped a switch, going from that teasing, flirty tone to dead silence without a second thought.

The doorbell rang, breaking her out of her thoughts. She stood up to answer, and her DoorDash order sat waiting on the doorstep, smelling deliciously of crispy chicken and salty fries. She brought the bag back to the couch, practically tearing it open, the savory smell making her mouth water. She set up her food, glancing at her phone one last time. Still nothing from Blake.

Fine, she thought, trying to shake it off. She settled in and started eating, taking a large bite of her sandwich, the spicy chicken, pickles, and sauce melding together perfectly. She followed it with a handful of fries, savoring the salty crispness. She chewed slowly, letting herself enjoy it, hoping it would distract her from the nagging feeling that lingered. But as she finished off the nuggets, a familiar tension returned. She felt full, more than satisfied, and yet there was still that growing frustration, the lingering ache of wanting more. She couldn’t help but think that eating anything would be better with someone encouraging her. She’d had a taste and now she somehow craved it.

Hours seemed to pass, the sun dipping lower, casting her living room in a warm, golden glow. She lay back on the couch, phone in hand, flipping through Feabie every few minutes, even though her notifications were on and she’d know immediately if he responded.

“Forget it,” she muttered, the words half-hearted. If he wasn’t interested, he wasn’t interested. Last night had been fun, and she’d wanted it to happen again, but if he wasn’t willing to give her any attention, she’d have to do without it. She wasn’t about to let one random guy derail her weekend, or her progress. She still had her goals, and she was determined to hit them, with or without Blake’s encouragement.

She tossed her phone onto the couch and headed to the kitchen, her footsteps feeling heavier than usual. She opened the fridge, her eyes landing on a pint of heavy cream, and a small smile tugged at her lips. She pulled it out, the chill of the carton refreshing in her hand as she twisted off the cap. The events of last night flickered through her mind, his taunting words, the way her stomach had stretched to its limit, the thrill she’d felt knowing he was watching her.

Amna took a deep breath, feeling a wave of determination. She didn’t need anyone to encourage her, she could do it herself. Holding the carton up to her lips, she tilted her head back and took a large gulp, the thick, creamy liquid filling her mouth, coating her tongue, and slipping down her throat. It was heavy and rich, exactly what her body needed, the kind of fullness that settled in her stomach with the promise of pounds to come.

Chapter 6

The soft, rhythmic tapping of a keyboard drifted through the office air as Amna sat at her desk, her mind far from work. It was a quiet Monday at the law firm, too quiet for her restless thoughts. Next to her, the other secretary, Natalie, typed diligently, her focus unwavering. Amna knew she should be doing the same, diving into emails or checking the firm’s case logs, but the motivation just wasn’t there. She sighed, glancing at her screen as she pulled up a random lawyer’s schedule, a quick attempt to look busy. Not even half a day into the workweek, and she already wished it was the weekend again.

It wasn’t that she disliked her job. In fact, she found it fairly comfortable, with most days being calm enough for her to drift through without much stress, perfectly manageable when there weren’t any big cases or high-profile deals. But today, all she could think about was how much she’d rather be home on her couch, a cheeseburger in hand, indulging herself without a care.

Amna checked the time: 11:32 a.m. Almost lunchtime, at least. But even that small reprieve didn’t bring her much excitement. After the heavy weekend she’d had, her enthusiasm for food had settled into a lull. She’d packed a simple sandwich with some chips, nothing like the rich indulgences she’d treated herself to recently. A part of her thought about going out to grab something more exciting, but Natalie would complain if she came back late, which meant her own break would be pushed back. With a resigned sigh, she grabbed a folder filled with documents.

“I’m gonna fax these to the ADA’s office, for Zach’s case,” she told Natalie, who only nodded before turning back to her monitor.

With the file in one hand, Amna grabbed her phone from her desk and slipped it into her pocket, fully intending to waste some time in the copy room. The idea of scrolling through social media or catching up on a few unread messages sounded far more appealing than filing away records or making endless client calls. Halfway to the copy room, she felt her phone buzz against her leg. Curious, she pulled it out, glancing down to see a notification from Blakob98. She froze, her thumb hovering over the screen.

She stared at the notification with a mix of surprise and irritation. He hadn’t bothered to respond to her messages over the weekend, each one either left unread or simply not worthy to reply to, which stung more than she wanted to admit. Part of her wanted to ignore him. After all, why let herself get pulled back in when he clearly hadn’t been as interested? But another part of her, the one that craved his attention, felt a small thrill at seeing his name.

She slipped into the copy room and closed the door behind her, settling at the small table by the wall. For a moment, she debated ignoring his message entirely, but she couldn’t resist the pull. Against her better judgment, she opened it.

‘hop on discord tonight,’ it read. Plain and casual, as if he hadn’t just spent two days ignoring her. Her lips parted in mild annoyance, but still, she couldn’t deny the tiny flutter that ran through her. She lingered over the words, imagining the scene, Blake’s steady voice coaxing her to push her limits, her stomach aching from the thrill of it all.

Before she had time to overthink it, another message flashed on her screen. ‘sometime around 8. Bring dessert’

Chapter 7

Amna sat nervously at her desk at home, a quiet excitement circulating within her as she arranged her array of snack cakes with delicate precision. Swiss Rolls, Zebra Cakes, and a whole box of Cosmic Brownies lay on the table before her, each treat neatly positioned, waiting. She’d gathered them from the kitchen, extras from the weekend’s indulgence. Now, her door was locked in case Renee chose to pop in as she had a habit of doing, her face lit by the soft glow of her laptop as she waited, listening for any sounds outside her door, her hair tumbling around her shoulders in loose waves.

A notification popped up: Blakob98 has invited you to a call. Amna’s heart raced, and she clicked Accept almost too quickly, cheeks warming with a mix of excitement and nerves. When his camera turned on, she was greeted by the familiar view of Blake’s torso, his face just out of frame. This time, though, his skin had a slight sheen to it, catching the pink and blue light of his room and glinting off his damp skin in a way that made her heart skip a beat.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, his low voice coming through her laptop with a familiar roughness. "I was at the gym."

"No worries," Amna replied softly, her voice almost a whisper. Whatever irritation she’d felt waiting vanished at the sight of him, his toned arms and broad chest just slightly damp, as if he hadn’t yet cooled off. She couldn’t help but let her gaze linger on his arms, thick and strong, making her feel small in comparison.

"So," Blake’s voice broke through her thoughts. "What did you eat today?"

Amna shifted, caught off guard by the question. She ran through her day’s meals, listing off her light breakfast, her plain sandwich for lunch. She felt a touch embarrassed for not having anything more substantial to share. "But I had a ton of tortellini for dinner, before this," she added, hoping it would sound more impressive.

"That's pretty… pathetic," he said, his tone nonchalant but cutting, mirroring the doubts already playing in her head. Her cheeks flushed slightly, but at the same time, she felt a shiver of excitement at his quiet expectation for more, as though he wanted her to go further, to be bigger.

"And dessert?" he asked, already moving on.

Amna quickly held up her small feast of snack cakes, lifting each one so he could see. “A bunch of these… and some milk,” she murmured.

A low chuckle escaped him. "No heavy cream this time?" he teased, referencing their last call, when she’d gone above and beyond, chugging cream until she could barely breathe.

She couldn’t help but blush at the memory. “I’m out,” she admitted, secretly pleased with herself for finishing all three pints over the weekend, a record she hadn’t kept, but one she still felt a swell of pride over.

"Guess that’ll do for now," Blake said, his tone dismissive but amused, like he was talking to a kid who needed extra motivation to eat. "Start with a Zebra Cake."

The command was simple, and she obeyed it, peeling open the wrapper and lifting the cake to her lips. The sweet, sugary taste filled her mouth, and she trained her eyes on the screen as she took a big bite. The frosting and cake were soft and sweet, and she quickly took another, eager to see his reaction.

One snack cake down, he didn’t wait. “Eat a Swiss Roll now. And don’t hold back, I don’t want to see you nibbling like a rabbit.”

Amna reached for a Swiss Roll, pulling the wrapper back as she took a large bite, savoring the creamy filling. She ate quickly, eager to please, and as she finished, she looked at the camera, feeling strangely self-conscious. But the silence from Blake was urging her on; she could almost feel his eyes, critical and watchful, judging her for every bite.

He leaned back in his chair, and she heard the faintest sound of him sighing as she ate, his playfulness subtle but palpable. “Eat two brownies at once.”

Amna swallowed, already feeling a slight tightness in her stomach, but she grabbed a brownie and unwrapped it, then another one before stacking them on top of each other, the fudge toppings squishing together like a sandwich. The chocolatey smell was enticing as she took a big bite. The richness was overwhelming, and she tried to pace herself, but knowing Blake was watching, the way his muscles seemed to flex under his damp muscle tee, made her want to go faster, to keep going until he told her she was finished.

Before she knew it, she’d eaten another cake, and then another roll, her stomach starting to swell beneath her shirt, pressing against the waistband of her pants. She felt the fabric dig slightly into her skin, and with each bite, she could feel herself getting fuller, her belly rounding and growing heavy in her lap.

“Another brownie,” Blake ordered, his voice smooth but firm. “And chug some milk, too.”

She complied, taking bigger bites now, the weight in her stomach growing with every swallow. Her skin felt tight, her breaths shallower as she struggled to keep up with his pace. The chair creaked slightly beneath her as she shifted, feeling the growing discomfort, but also the strange, thrilling sense of fullness that made her feel dazed.

Finally, she placed the last bite of a Swiss Roll in her mouth, chewing slowly, savoring the sensation. She leaned back in her chair, feeling so stuffed she could hardly move, her hands instinctively moving to her bloated stomach, pressing down slightly to relieve the pressure. No way I just ate all of that, she thought, staring at the empty boxes and wrappers strewn in front of her.

"Good girl," Blake murmured, his tone unexpectedly warm but still edged with that same teasing cruelty. 

Amna felt her face heat up at the comment. Something about his approval, his praise, was attractive to her.

"Stand up so I can see you better," Blake's voice commanded, calm and low but carrying a weight that made Amna shiver. She moved slowly, feeling the heaviness of her swollen belly as she rose, a soft groan escaping her lips as her body adjusted to the shift in gravity. She stepped back from her desk, glancing at the screen to see her own reflection, her belly a round, taut shape pressing against her shirt. The fabric stretched slightly, the tightness leaving little to the imagination. 

"God..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She placed her hands on her belly, running her fingers over the tautness of her skin, and turned sideways, letting the camera capture her profile. Her stomach jutted out, heavy and full, soft around the edges but undeniably bloated, packed to its limits from Blake’s encouragement.

Blake leaned closer to the screen, his voice barely containing a smirk. "Are you fatter than last time?"

She caught her breath at his words, a flicker of excitement sparking within her. She knew she wasn’t any bigger, not really, or at least not by much. But the way he asked, like he could actually see some difference, as if the weekend alone might’ve added a few pounds, it was thrilling. The possibility that she could visibly be fatter in such a short time was arousing in a way she hadn't expected, and she knew he must have understood that.

"Maybe," she replied, feigning nonchalance as she felt the subtle heat spread across her face. With a heavy sigh, she dropped back into her chair, too full to stand for long. The weight in her stomach pressed down, grounding her in a strangely comforting way, making her feel solid, even a bit powerful, just sitting there, sated and full.

Blake watched her from his side of the screen, his image tilted as he swiveled slightly in his chair, casual yet observant. He let a silence stretch between them, and instead of feeling awkward, Amna found herself reveling in it, still absorbed by the lingering heaviness in her stomach and the way she looked on the screen, her own private admiration reflected back.

After a few moments, Blake spoke up again, his voice blunt and direct. "Give me your number. And your address."

The words caught her off guard, her brows raising slightly as she processed his sudden request. “Why?” she asked, wary but curious, her fingers instinctively tightening around the armrest of her chair.

Blake rubbed his chest with one hand as he leaned back. "How am I supposed to fatten you if I don’t know where you live? Where else am I supposed to send all the food?" His voice was casual but held an edge of smugness. "And don’t tell me you want to keep chatting on Feabie. I hate that app."

Amna bit her lip, her mind racing. She barely knew Blake, she hadn’t even seen his face yet. A part of her hesitated, cautious, knowing how risky it could be. But the other part, the one that enjoyed the idea of having a real feeder who would not just encourage her but would actually invest in her gains, practically leaped at the chance. The idea of boxes of treats, huge, indulgent meals, all delivered just for her, it was almost too good to believe. She hesitated, though, the practical side of her nagging slightly.

But then Blake interrupted her thoughts with a chuckle. "Geez, Amna. I live halfway across the country. What do you think I'm gonna do, show up to your house?"

Despite herself, she smiled at his comment, the hint of a tease in his tone disarming her. For a moment, she considered what it might be like if he did show up, a part of her didn’t mind the thought as much as she probably should have. 

"Fine," she said, almost too eagerly. Her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard, typing out her phone number and address into the Discord chat, a faint thrill running up her spine as she sent the message. She felt a momentary flutter of nerves, but it was quickly replaced by excitement.

A few seconds later, her phone buzzed. She picked it up to see a new message from an unknown number: ‘Blake,’ it read. She smiled, saving the contact. There it was, something solid, something real. Her heart thumped with growing anticipation.

Blake’s voice pulled her back to the call. "You’re my feedee now," he declared, his tone possessive, the confidence almost palpable. “I promise I’ll make you huge, but you’ve got to do what I say, okay?”

The simplicity and force of his words sent a shiver up her spine. She felt her heart race, her imagination running wild with the possibilities, with the images of herself even bigger, fuller, completely under his guidance. Her mouth was dry, and she could barely form the words, but she managed, breathless, "Okay."

Chapter 8

“Oh, this is really cute!” Renee exclaimed as Amna watched her pull a sweater off the rack. She held it up, and the light passed through the intentional holes in the knit. It was very Renee, a mix of edgy and laid-back. Amna smiled, matching her friend's enthusiasm. “I love that! It’s so you.”

Renee flashed her a grin, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of a good find, and went back to scanning the racks. It had been Renee’s idea to come to the mall, but Amna had been quick to tag along. If the past week with Blake had been any indication, she’d need to start sizing up her wardrobe soon. Their every-other-nightly calls had turned her indulgence into a bit of a routine, his encouragement fueling her every bite. And she couldn’t deny how much she loved it. Not only was he incredibly attractive, his muscled arms and the way he moved kept her attention glued to him, but she could also swear she was feeling a difference, even if the mirror didn’t quite show it yet. It was probably wishful thinking, but she felt heavier, like she was starting to carry herself differently.

They made their way toward the dressing rooms, Renee already carrying a few tops in her arms. While Renee ducked inside, Amna perched herself on a cushioned bench outside, pulling out her phone to pass the time. Her screen lit up with a new text from Blake: ‘Wyd?’

Amna’s heart skipped a beat, and she couldn’t help the giddy smile that spread across her face. ‘At the mall, gonna need new clothes soon, thanks to you,’ she replied, her fingers tapping quickly across the screen.

A second later, Blake’s response came through. ‘Lmao.’ Then, a special message came through, $50 sent through Apple Cash, followed by another text: ‘Get Sbarro. 3 slices.’

A thrill shot through her. She wasn’t hungry at all, but whenever Blake gave her a command like that, it was as if her appetite switched on at the mere suggestion. If he wasn't encouraging her through Discord, Blake was motivating her through text, or sending her money for meals. He had even sent food to her house unexpectedly once, and she'd had to cover in front of Renee, pretending she'd been the one to order it. She tried her best to keep up, and luckily she could. Even with him pushing her, it was never too much or too quickly. 

‘ok,’ she replied, her cheeks still warm as she tucked her phone back into her bag. She could already imagine the greasy, oversized slices piled on her plate, and her stomach grumbled in anticipation.

Just then, Renee stepped out, doing a small spin for Amna to see. The distressed sweater hung loosely, layering over her necklaces in that effortless, chic way that suited her so well. “What do you think?” she asked, her head tilted as she checked her reflection in the hall mirror.

“That looks great on you,” Amna said, her admiration genuine. She always wondered why Renee didn’t flaunt her figure more, she was naturally slim and looked great in almost anything, though she preferred comfort over anything too fitted. Amna couldn’t help but think that, if she had her own dream figure, she’d wear the tightest clothes to flaunt every inch of her softness. She daydreamed for a moment about the curves she hoped would be her reality one day, clothes clinging to her in a way that made her feel utterly fat.

“Yeah, I think I’ll get it,” Renee said, giving herself a last glance in the mirror before turning toward her.

“Hey,” Amna started casually, trying not to sound too eager, “wanna get Sbarro?”

—- —- —- —- —-

Amna and Renee stood in line at Sbarro, the scents of baking pizza and frying food thick in the air around them. The mall food court bustled with activity; groups of friends huddled around tables, couples shared desserts, and kids tugged at their parents’ sleeves for treats from various fast-food spots. Bright lights cast a strong glow over everything, and the hum of laughter and chatter mixed with the sizzle and clatter from the stalls. Amna felt the warm, enticing aroma of the pizza wrapping around her, each inhale priming her stomach for what Blake had told her to do.

When they reached the counter, Renee went first, ordering a single slice and a water. Amna felt a twinge of nervousness as she stepped up, glancing quickly over at Renee to see if she was watching. Then she looked the cashier in the eye and ordered, “Three slices of pepperoni, please… and a soda.”

Renee gave her a slightly surprised look as if she might say something, but she only smiled faintly. Amna almost wished she would comment, some half-teasing remark about her appetite or the amount she’d ordered. But Renee remained silent. As Renee reached for her bag, Amna tapped her card before she had a chance to react. “I’ve got it,” she said with a smile.

Renee raised an eyebrow. “Thanks!” she said brightly. Amna couldn’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction. Blake’s casual generosity, or obliviousness to the cost of food court pizza, had sent her more than enough for both of them.

They carried their trays over to a small table near the bustling center of the food court, and Amna took a quick, sneaky picture of her spread: three gleaming, cheesy slices, each slice practically an entire meal in itself. She knew she’d send it to Blake later, a little proof of her dedication. She tucked her phone away and took her first bite, savoring the gooey cheese and the soft crust beneath it.

Renee took a sip of water and started talking about her latest crystal purchases. “I got this gorgeous piece of amethyst that’s supposed to enhance intuition,” she said, digging into her bag to show a photo of it. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Amna nodded enthusiastically, swallowing her bite. “It’s beautiful! And, intuition sounds like a useful power-up,” she added with a playful grin, bringing the food to her mouth again.

“Oh, totally! I can use all the help I can get.” Renee chuckled, taking a bite of her own pizza slice.

As Renee continued talking about her new crystals, Amna turned her focus to the food. The first slice went down easily, the warm bread and sauce practically melting in her mouth. But as she tackled the second, the familiar heaviness started to settle in her stomach. She reminded herself why she was doing this, to feel herself grow, to indulge in Blake’s wishes. She could almost hear his voice encouraging her, calling her his feedee, his pet project, with that confident tone she couldn’t get enough of.

Amna took a sip of her soda, the carbonation settling with a fizz that spread warmth in her belly. She powered through the rest of the second slice, ignoring the mild stretch that told her she was full enough. Then, she started on the third.

Renee was still talking, but Amna could barely keep up with the conversation. She nodded and made agreeable noises as she struggled through each bite. Halfway through the third slice, her stomach was pulsing, almost aching with fullness, but she took another deep breath and another bite. She wasn’t going to stop, not until she finished.

By the time she finally leaned back, there were only a few bites left, but her body felt stuffed, tight, and heavy. Renee glanced over, noticing her lean back with a slight sigh. “Want me to toss that for you?” she asked, eyeing the leftover piece with a friendly smile.

Amna straightened, shaking her head. “No, I’m not done yet.” Her own words surprised her as much as they did Renee, but she wasn’t about to stop. She was so close, and she couldn’t leave the plate unfinished, Blake expected more of her.

Renee shot her a slightly quizzical look, but only nodded and went back to sipping her water, continuing to talk about how she wanted to go on another retreat. With a small, determined sigh, Amna picked up the remaining piece and forced herself to finish, each bite heavy but satisfying.

Finally, when the last bite was gone, she let herself lean back in her seat fully, feeling how taut her stomach was. It pressed against her waistband, a pleasant reminder of her dedication. She pretended to check her phone, but in reality, she took another sneaky photo, this time of the empty, greasy cardboard boxes, evidence of her accomplishment. With a smirk, she sent the before-and-after pictures to Blake, feeling an extra rush as she did.

As she waited for a response, Renee stood and gathered up their empty containers, carrying them off to the trash. Amna watched her friend, only half paying attention as she felt the buzzing of her phone in her hand. Blake had replied.

‘You’re out with someone? lol my bad.’

Amna looked at the photo, realizing that the edge of Renee’s top had made it into the shot, along with her own lone slice. She giggled to herself, imagining Blake’s reaction to seeing just how much more she’d eaten.

‘yeah, my friend Renee,’ she typed back, ‘I think she was surprised at how much I ate.’

The three dots appeared immediately, and Amna’s heart skipped. ‘That’s hot,’ Blake replied. ‘Discord tonight?’

Amna grinned, fingers flying across the screen as she replied, ‘of course’

Just then, Renee returned to the table, grabbing her bag and water. “Ready to go?” she asked, watching Amna with a warm, contented smile.

“Yeah,” Amna replied, nodding as she slid out of the seat. She took her time standing, savoring the pleasant heaviness that settled in her middle, the kind of fullness that felt like an accomplishment in itself. She took another sip of her soda, each sip stretching her belly just a little more as she and Renee made their way out of the food court and back into the open space of the mall.

Chapter 9

Amna lay sprawled on her bed, laptop propped up in front of her, bathed in the soft glow of her screen. Beside her was the spread of food Blake had sent over, a feast meant for them to enjoy together, or at least, it was supposed to be enjoyed together. But the smell was irresistible, and she’d already snuck a handful of fries, munching on them absently as she waited. The fries were salty and hot, each bite firing up her appetite a little more. 

Her stomach gave a soft rumble as she glanced over the spread: two hefty triple cheeseburgers, a ten-piece box of chicken tenders, and a basket heaped with fries. She felt a little thrill run through her just looking at it all. Two months ago, a meal like this would have been unthinkable, but now, with a little nudge from Blake every night, it seemed almost normal. Her appetite had blossomed, her body hungrily catching up to her desires. She felt it everywhere, the slight swell of her belly, the new heaviness in her breasts, and the way her thighs jiggled in a way that made her want more.

She leaned back, resting a hand on her belly and giving it a light squeeze. It was there, soft and thick, starting to spill onto her lap in a way that made her stomach flip with excitement. It felt so solid, so real, that she couldn’t help but press down on it, feeling the way it squished beneath her hand, warm and pliant. The feel of it just made her hungrier, ever eager to eat more and add more pounds to her frame. She picked up another fry and tossed it in her mouth, enjoying the taste as it settled in her stomach.

She glanced back at her laptop. Blake was late again, and the waiting was killing her. She really didn’t mind, she often thought she was getting far more out of their situation than he was, so she really had no room to complain. But waiting while she was hungry, and with food right in front of her, tempting her, it was difficult to be patient. A few minutes later, a notification flashed on her screen, and she felt a familiar jolt of excitement. Blake was online. 

Without hesitating, she accepted the call, her face lighting up when his camera connected.

“Hey, fatty,” he said casually, his voice smooth and warm. 

Amna’s smile widened at the greeting, her cheeks flushing. She loved the way he said it, like it was just another pet name, yet laced with meaning. “Hey,” she replied, lifting one of the wrapped burgers to the camera. “I got the food you sent.”

As she started to unwrap it, Blake’s tone shifted, going from casual to suddenly serious. “You’re telling me you didn’t already eat half of it?” he asked, a hint of accusation in his voice. “That’s not how a greedy pig would act.”

Amna froze, her fingers hesitating around the burger wrapper. For a second, she was caught off-guard, a little startled by the shift. She knew she could have dove in without him, but half the pleasure came from the way he’d watch her, teasing and encouraging her with each bite.Then Blake broke into a laugh, and her shoulders relaxed. “I’m kidding,” he said. “But next time, you don’t have to wait.”

Amna laughed along, feeling the lingering thrill of his teasing. “Noted,” she replied, bringing the burger up for her first bite. The meat was juicy and flavorful, the cheese melting perfectly with each warm mouthful. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction as she chewed, the food tasting even better knowing Blake’s eyes were on her.

As they settled into their usual routine, Amna found herself opening up about her day, recounting every little indulgence, every extra snack or skipped physical activity, every small way she’d let herself lean further into her cravings. Blake listened intently, teasing her at every turn, calling her a pig, a glutton, a lazy little feedee. With each taunt, Amna felt her cheeks grow hotter, the words hitting her in all the right places. She could hear the taunts a million times and never grow tired of it.

By the time she’d polished off the first burger, her belly was starting to feel a bit tight. She was full, but not stuffed, not yet. She had more in her, especially with Blake there to encourage her.

“I want to try something different tonight,” Blake said, his voice taking on a low, almost distant tone.

Amna perked up as she picked up a tender and dipped it honey mustard, preparing her next bite. “Yeah?” she replied, curious.

Blake leaned in closer to his camera, his shadowed form dominating her screen. “Yeah,” he said. “I want you to touch yourself.”

Amna nearly choked on her food, coughing as she processed what he’d said. “What?” she managed, her cheeks blazing.

“You heard me,” he replied, his voice firm yet playful. “While you eat.”

Amna’s heart raced as she stared at him, weighing his request. She’d never done anything like that in front of someone, but his words sent a tingle through her. She hesitated, feeling both nervous and aroused at the idea. She touched herself all the time at the thought of being bigger, or to the videos of herself looking fat and swollen. But never while she ate. Something about it felt almost too indulgent, too hedonistic. But when she looked at the screen, feeling Blake’s eyes on her, watching his subtle movements as he waited for her to respond, she felt her resistance melt away. Slowly, she let her free hand drift under the waistband of her sweatpants, her fingers trembling slightly as they made contact with her skin.

With a deep breath, she picked up the second burger, her other hand dipping lower. She bit into it as she began to massage her lips, and the sensations somehow feeling strange, new but electric. Half of her focus was on the food, the other half on the feeling of pleasure as her fingers began to explore, slowly at first, easing her arousal forward.

Blake’s voice guided her, low and taunting, reminding her of every inch she’d gained, every soft curve that now pressed against her clothes. “You’re getting so soft,” he murmured, his words like a caress. “Every bite you take makes you fatter. You can’t help yourself, can you?”

No, I can’t, Amna thought to herself. She let out a soft moan as she bit into the burger, the rich flavor mixing with the growing fullness in her belly and the gentle, teasing touch of her own fingers. She kept her gaze on him, her cheeks flushing as she ate and touched herself in tandem, each bite a surrender to his encouragement, his control.

“You know everyone’s going to notice, right?” he teased, his tone demeaning yet thrilling. “It’s getting so obvious, Amna. People are going to see how fat you’ve gotten. It’ll be the first thing they notice.”

Amna’s mind whirled, her imagination flooded with images of people watching her, noticing her weight, the way her belly and thighs had grown. She could almost feel their eyes, their judgments, it only spurred her on. She took another greedy bite, moaning softly as Blake leaned in even closer.

“And you love it, don’t you?” Blake continued. Amna nodded as she brought the burger to her mouth again, although he couldn’t see her face.

“Mmhmm,” she murmured instead, through a mouthful of food. Her fingers stroked herself faster, and she moaned softly, the waves of pleasure mixing with the intoxicating pressure in her gut. She wanted more food in her, more fat on her. She wanted to be fat enough to take up her entire view on screen. She ate a few more bites greedily, driven by her own feelings and fantasies.

“You’re gonna get so much bigger and softer,” Blake said, his words mirroring the thoughts in her head. “Those tits are gonna spill out your bra, your gut’s gonna fill the space between your thick thighs, your ass is gonna outgrow every pair of pants you own…”

Amna could feel herself edging closer, her body responding to his words, her fullness, and the sheer decadence of the moment.

By the time she reached the last bites of the burger, her body was a tangle of sensations—arousal, fullness, and the slight discomfort of a belly pushed close to its limit. But she kept going, her breath catching as Blake’s words grew more intense, his taunts sharper.

“You’re such a fatass,” he whispered, his voice rough. “And you’re only going to get fatter.”

That word, that final taunt, sent her over the edge. A wave of pleasure washed over her, her back arching as she muffled a gasp, her free hand clutching at the sheets as her fingers coaxed the orgasm out of her. She could feel every inch of her softened body, her full belly, her heavy thighs, her soft chest, lost in the sensations Blake had built up in her, the pleasure rippling through her like a shock.

She looked at the view of herself on the screen, breathless and bloated, her body buzzing with satisfaction and a lingering sense of arousal.

Her heart was still racing as she gradually drifted down from the intensity of the moment, her breaths steadying as she lay back against her pillows. She caught the view of Blake on her laptop screen, where he was casually swaying in his chair, a familiar habit of his. Over time, she’d come to notice the small, subtle gestures he made without seeing his face, a barely-there shift in his posture or a slight pause in his speech. Right now, she could tell he was satisfied, his relaxed posture and that calm, amused silence filling the air.

“Atta piggy,” he murmured, and Amna could hear the smile on his lips. "Did you like that?" he asked, his tone light but laced with a self-assured amusement.

"Obviously," she replied, feeling a small twinge of embarrassment she couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was how easily he held this sway over her, how effortlessly she responded to him, how readily she followed his every cue and command. She popped a fry into her mouth, savoring the salt and crunch, letting it distract her as a comfortable silence settled between them.

Then Blake broke it, dropping a question that immediately had her heart skipping. "When can I come visit you?"

Her eyes widened as she processed the question. Blake always seemed to throw these surprising statements at her, catching her off guard. And while she tried to sound nonchalant, this was exactly what she’d wanted to hear. "I don’t know," she replied, hoping the eagerness in her voice wasn’t too obvious. "I mean, whenever works for you, I guess? Besides work, I’m not all that busy."

Blake leaned forward, the glow from his screen illuminating the sharp lines of his chest and broad shoulders as he shuffled closer to his desk. He clicked around on his screen, and for a moment, Amna held her breath, her stomach fluttering with anticipation. She waited, her eyes tracing the shape of his shoulders as he stared intently at whatever he was looking at.

"How about the 17th? Next month," he said finally, his voice calm and decisive.

She blinked, momentarily stunned. That was just three weeks away. Somehow, she’d imagined he’d suggest a date months out, giving her plenty of time to prepare, but soon was so much better. "Sure!" she said quickly, trying to keep her tone steady as excitement bubbled up inside. She sat up a little straighter, her belly pressing uncomfortably against her waistband after the heavy meal, but her thrill easily overpowered her discomfort.

Blake typed a few things on his keyboard, murmuring a quiet “perfect” as he scooted back from his monitor, more of his figure filling the screen.

"But first, I wanna see you," he said, leaning forward and pausing for a heartbeat. "Your face, I mean."

Before she could even process the words that made her pulse quicken, his hand reached toward his webcam, and the camera shifted, tilting upward to reveal a face she hadn’t realized she’d been waiting for.

She found herself staring, breath caught in her chest. He was handsome in a way that felt almost surreal, like someone she might only see in a dream. He had a strong jawline and perfect teeth, revealed in a devastatingly smooth smile that crept across his face. Dark bangs fell loosely over his brows, framing his eyes in a way that gave him a playful, magnetic charm. He raked his hair back, pushing the strands away from his eyes, only for the hair to fall back around his face, framing it perfectly. The colored lights of his room cast soft shadows over his features, leaving his eye color hidden in shadow, but they were smoldering as they held her gaze. She could almost feel their weight, their depth, through the screen.

"Now you," he said, his voice rich with amusement.

Amna swallowed hard, as if trying to shake herself out of the slow-motion trance she was in. Blake’s face filled her screen, more handsome than she could’ve imagined, somehow striking and easygoing all at once. She’d often thought he’d be attractive, but nothing had quite prepared her for how fine he actually was, and now, self-consciousness flooded over her like a wave.

With her heart pounding, Amna’s gaze shifted toward the full-length mirror leaning against her bedroom wall. Her makeup, which had been subtle and tasteful for work, had dulled over the course of the day, and now a slight sheen had formed on her skin. In the seconds she had, she pushed a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear, only to pull it back out, deciding it didn’t look right. But she shook herself, willing the insecurities to slip away. She turned back to her computer, taking a deep breath. Please don’t think I’m ugly, she thought, bracing herself.

With a slight, shaky exhale, she tilted her screen, angling it to show her face. Her eyes darted to her own tiny video feed, adjusting her head to one side to show her good side, hoping her nervousness didn’t show.

Blake’s grin widened as he took her in. "You’re beautiful," he said, his voice soft but certain, and Amna felt he meant it, each word sinking in, reassuring and warm.

She smiled, cheeks flushed, and managed a small laugh. "So are you," she said honestly, and Blake laughed, a hand reaching to scratch his neck, looking modest yet playful.

"I’ve been meaning to ask," he began, glancing away for a moment. "How much do you weigh?"

The question took her off guard, and for a moment, she blanked, realizing she actually wasn’t sure. "Uh…I actually don’t know," she admitted, laughing slightly. She’d been so caught up in their late-night binges and all the little food challenges that she hadn’t even bothered to check. And, truthfully, the scale had always been a point of frustration for her, never seeing the results she wanted.

“You do have a scale though, right?” Blake asked.

Amna nodded. “Yeah, I do. I just, forgot to keep weighing myself,” she replied, cringing at her own lame reasoning. But it was mostly the truth.

Blake’s eyebrow lifted, amusement flickering across his face. "A feedee that doesn’t care about the scale? Now that’s new."

Amna smiled, shrugging. "It’s more about size for me. And…the feeling, I guess."

Blake nodded, his expression softening, though his eyes glinted with interest. Amna felt herself sinking into his gaze again, lost in the way he looked at her. Then his voice cut in again, making her snap back to reality. "So…" He trailed off, his voice expectant.

"Oh!" She perked up. "I can weigh myself now, if you want."

Blake chuckled, nodding his head slightly. "Please."

She felt a blush creeping across her cheeks as she shuffled to the edge of the bed, carefully picking up her laptop. Her tight bra cut uncomfortably into her sides, and she briefly wondered if she should throw on a shirt, but the thought quickly faded as she padded toward the bedroom door. She cracked it open, peering out to make sure Renee wasn’t nearby, hearing the distant hum of the TV down the hall. Amna slipped out quietly and made her way to the bathroom, flicking on the lights before closing the door softly behind her. She set her laptop on the counter.

"One sec," she murmured, biting her lip as she felt the butterflies start up again.

"Take your time," Blake replied with a playful smirk, leaning back in his chair.

She pulled the bathroom scale out from under the sink, setting it down and tapping it lightly with her foot to activate it. After a pause, she picked up the laptop, angling the camera down to show her feet as she stepped up onto the scale. She held her breath, feeling a surge of both excitement and nerves as she watched the digital numbers flicker and stabilize.

"Can you see it?" she whispered, almost as if Renee might somehow overhear through the walls.

"Clear as day," Blake’s voice replied softly.

Amna glanced down at the screen, her pulse racing. 178 pounds. Her heart leapt in surprise. That was over twenty pounds gained since the last time she’d checked, which felt like ages ago. A wide grin spread across her face as she turned the laptop back toward her and set it down on the bathroom vanity, unable to contain her excitement. "178 pounds! Did you see?" She stepped back a bit so he could see more of her and lifted her shirt a little as she stared at herself in the mirror. She grabbed her small belly with both hands, giving it a little jiggle, feeling proud and amazed.

"Yeah," Blake said. "I mean it’s alright, I guess. I expected more."

Amna felt her shoulders sag, her arms dropping to her sides as the air seemed to deflate out of her excitement. She looked at the screen, only to find Blake looking off to the right slightly, distracted with something on his monitor, fingers tapping absently on his keyboard. "Seriously?" she murmured, her smile fading. "I mean, I was over 150 before this…that’s a lot, I think."

Blake shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Sure. But you’re not fat. Not yet." He turned back to the camera. "Hey, I gotta go. But I’ll see you in a few weeks, yeah?" He flashed a smile at her.

And before she could even fully process what he’d said, his face vanished from the screen as he ended the call. She blinked, staring at the empty screen, the sting of disappointment settling heavily in her chest. She shook her head and scoffed, her eyes drifting back to the mirror, and she slowly took herself in, studying her form with a critical eye.

She ran her hands over her body, trying to identify where the fat had settled. Her hips for sure, they had rounded out some, and her thighs had thickened. There wasn’t as much in her belly as she would have liked. but she could still tell that it had softened slightly. She could feel it when she poked at it, feel the evidence of all those late nights, those indulgent binges, those moments spent trying to satisfy Blake, trying to push herself just a little further for him.

Her large brown eyes met her own reflection, and despite her mixed feelings, a new thought took root, steady and insistent. Blake was coming to visit soon, and she knew she wanted to be different by then, noticeably different. Fatter. She wanted to impress him, wanted him to see what she was capable of, wanted him to take her in and realize how much of a pig she was. She wanted to get as big as she could and see how much of an impression she could make.

Chapter 10

Amna stood in the kitchen, tapping her fingers rhythmically on the countertop as the blender whirred away, its loud hum filling the quiet of the apartment. She’d gotten into the habit of making these shakes every day now, sometimes twice a day, depending on how hungry, or how determined, she felt. It had become a ritual, a part of her new, slow-growing obsession. Peanut butter, protein powder, heavy cream, whole milk, a banana for good measure. She’d tried various combinations in the last week, adding dollops of ice cream or spoonfuls of Nutella whenever she felt like indulging a little more. 

Her hands absentmindedly moved to her belly, rubbing the soft swell there. She was still bloated from lunch, but there was a kind of delight in pushing herself past the point of fullness, knowing that she was putting in the work to really grow, to reach a size Blake wouldn’t be able to ignore. Every night during their feeding sessions, they talked about it, about what they might do or how he’d challenge her to eat even more in person, and it all made her even more excited and eager to grow before he arrived. She was secretly eating even more than he instructed, packing in more calories whenever she could, all to surprise him when he finally saw her.

The blender clicked off, and she stared into the thick, creamy concoction, watching as it settled and bubbled. A shiver of satisfaction ran through her. The shake was dense, almost like a custard, and the smell of peanut butter and chocolate drifted up, making her stomach growl even as it protested at the thought of more food.

Just as she reached for a glass, she heard footsteps, and she straightened, schooling her expression. Renee entered the kitchen in her usual athletic wear—black leggings, a fitted top, sneakers. She had her water bottle in one hand, holding it up to the fridge dispenser to fill it before what looked to be her daily gym session.

“Ooh, is that a protein shake?” Renee asked, glancing at the blender curiously. “Can I have some?” she asked, her voice light as she grabbed her filled water bottle and turned to Amna expectantly. 

Inside, Amna smiled, but she kept her face neutral. Renee would be horrified if she knew the amount of calories packed into the shake. She shook her head, shrugging apologetically. “Sorry, I’m out of ingredients. This is just the last bit of what I have left.”

Renee’s gaze flicked to the tub of Serious Mass sitting on the counter, but if she thought anything of it, she didn’t say a word. As always, Renee brushed off Amna’s little quirks without question, and for that, Amna was grateful. 

“Okay! I’ll be back soon,” Renee said, flashing her a smile before heading out the front door.

Amna watched the door shut, letting out a small breath once she was alone again. She reached for the blender, excitement tingling as she poured half of the mixture into a tall glass, its weight heavy in her hand.

She brought the glass to her lips and took a deep gulp, feeling the thick liquid slide down her throat, cool and rich. She forced herself to swallow quickly, eager to drink as much as she could before her body started protesting. Halfway through the glass, she had to stop, catching her breath. A warm, pleased satisfaction bloomed in her chest as she felt the shake hit her stomach, adding to the fullness that had already started to settle from her last meal.

She took a moment to rub her belly, feeling the tension of the new calories pressing against her skin. It felt powerful, knowing that with each mouthful, she was bringing herself closer to the size she’d only dreamed of. She wanted to feel bigger, to watch her body change, to feel the heft of her own weight growing, spreading slowly, irresistibly.

She imagined Blake’s jaw dropping as he took her in, his hands skimming over her new curves, admiring the softness she’d built for him, for herself. The fantasy fueled her, and she brought the glass back to her lips, tipping it back to drain the rest of the shake. She felt her belly stretch with each gulp, but the discomfort was oddly satisfying, as if her body was giving in to her desires, reshaping itself with each calorie she crammed inside.

When she finished the glass, she set it down with a soft clink, letting out a soft groan as she glanced back at the blender. Half of the shake still waited inside, rich and dense, and she felt her resolve strengthen. Reaching for the container, she poured another half-glass, biting her lip as she watched it pour thickly, refilling her glass. She wanted to go just a bit further, to push herself even more.

She lifted the glass, each sip weighing heavily in her gut, a step toward the transformation she craved. She could picture it already, her reflection fuller, her clothes clinging tighter, her body spilling into softness that Blake wouldn’t be able to look away from. The thought sent a wave of arousal through her.

She took another sip, then another, moaning as she rubbed her belly gently, savoring the feeling of fullness growing deeper, heavier, more pronounced. I’m gonna be so fat by the time he sees me, she thought, the words sending a thrill of anticipation through her.

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