McDonald’s Head

Cairo’s hands rest on the steering wheel as we wind through the city streets, fingers drumming a restless rhythm against the leather. His gaze is steady, trained on the road, though I notice how his shoulders shift now and then, like he’s trying to settle into the seat but can’t quite get comfortable. I know him well enough to recognize the hesitation in the quiet, watchful way he drives, like he’s waiting for an excuse to turn around.

After a moment, he glances my way, brow furrowed. “I’m really not sure about this,” he mutters, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the low hum of the engine.

I can’t help but smile, letting my fingers fiddle with my seat belt. “Then it’s a good thing you don’t have a choice.” I grin at him, savoring the flash of surprise, and maybe even a little thrill, in his warm, hazel eyes.

He raises a brow, skeptical, but there’s a softness in his gaze as he takes me in, looking through a fringe of dark, curly hair that falls over his forehead. He shifts again, his weight pressing into the seat as he settles. It’s a small movement, but I can’t help noticing the way his body adjusts, the way his t-shirt pulls taut over the generous curve of his belly, pressing outward against the fabric. The back of his shirt rides up slightly, revealing a chubby sliver of olive-toned skin where his love handles spill over the waistband of his jeans. A small patch of his back fat peeks out, soft and tempting, and I reach over and run my fingers over it, feeling the warmth of his skin under my hand.

Cairo doesn’t flinch or pull away, he’s used to my touches and attention by now. His body has grown fat and familiar over the past few years, each new curve and soft line proof of my influence over him. He’d been a little chubby when we met, a solid start, and from the first moment, I knew he’d make a perfect feedee. Sweet and independent, with just the right amount of submissiveness hiding under that quiet confidence of his. He was a feedee already well-entrapped in the world of feedsim, so it didn’t take much coaxing to nudge his body further—his metabolism was naturally slow, his appetite big, and his body already soft and pliable, eager to take shape under the hand of a feeder. We’d clicked immediately, in every way that mattered, and feedism just felt like an extension of that connection.

He sighs, breaking my train of thought. “I’m not even hungry,” he says, sounding more nervous than convincing. I can’t help but laugh, tilting my head back in amusement.

“When has that ever mattered?” I ask. A reluctant smile tugs at his lips, and he glances my way, unable to deny it.

“True,” he concedes after a pause, his voice lighter now, amused.

He’s right, of course. He’s probably still full from breakfast, a meal I ensure is always heavy to start the day off right. But there’s something irresistible about pushing him just a little further, seeing how far he’ll go to please me.

“Besides,” I say, my tone a bit lower, “being full will only make it better.”

He bites his lip, his eyes darting to the side as he considers it, but his brow furrows again. “But… what if someone sees?” His voice drops to a whisper, glancing around like we’re already being watched. “It’s the middle of the day. We might get put on a list or something.”

The concern in his voice doesn’t put me off in the slightest. In fact, I can’t help the thrill that rises at his worry, the little burst of excitement that only makes me want this more. I look out the window as we pass by a cluster of fast-food joints, each one calling to us with big colorful signs. There are so many things on my feeder bucket list that I want to do, and today, we’re crossing one of them off. Starting with something at the top of my list, something small, simple. I smile as the golden arches coming into view in the distance catch my eye. Even with his worries, I’m not about to back down. And I know Cairo won’t say no, not to me.

“Just get your fat ass in that drive-thru,” I say, the grin on my face widening as he lets out a soft laugh.

Cairo pulls the car into the McDonald's drive-thru. His fingers tighten on the steering wheel as he navigates the lane, his jaw set in nervousness in the way he glances at me. There’s something deliciously sweet about that look, a kind of innocent hesitation that makes me want to draw this out even longer, just to watch his resolve melt away.

We inch forward in line, and soon, the voice crackles through the speaker. “Welcome to McDonald's, what can I get for you today?”

I sit back. A large Big Mac meal with a vanilla shake, I think, knowing his go-to “snack” by heart. Sure enough, Cairo clears his throat and orders. “Uh, I’ll take a Big Mac meal… large, with a large vanilla shake.”

A pleased smile spreads across my face as he says it. His voice holds that soft, obedient tone, like he’s slipping into the role that comes so naturally to him. The employee on the other end barely misses a beat, asking, “Anything else?”

Cairo glances over at me, his eyes wide and expectant, and for a moment, I let myself enjoy the adorable look on his face. There’s something endearing about the way he looks to me like this, waiting for direction, open and willing to do whatever I ask. It’s one of the things I adore most about him, this easy readiness and poised obedience. His lips part slightly, and his eyes ask the question he doesn’t say out loud.

“More,” I say softly.

Without missing a beat, he turns back to the speaker and adds, “Uh, and… two McChickens.”

He looks at me, brow raised, like he’s hoping he’s guessed right. I take a moment to survey him, mentally going over what he’s already eaten today. Breakfast had been heavy, but not that much, and it was hours ago. He can definitely handle more. I tilt my head, raising my eyebrows in that silent encouragement he’s come to recognize so well.

Cairo blinks, then nods almost to himself as if to say, ‘Okay,’ and he turns back to the speaker once more. “Also a ten-piece McNuggets… and two apple pies.”

I give him an approving smile when he looks back at me. “Good piggy,” I murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

A pink flush spreads over his cheeks, but his eyes are brighter than ever as we pull forward. I see the flicker of excitement in his expression, the way he can’t quite hide his own thrill at getting to eat something filling and fattening. He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, paying for the order while my own anticipation builds steadily, always excited to see him stuff himself.

As he pulls up to the next window, I let my hand drift over to his belly, grazing my fingers along the curve of it. I press my palm gently into the softest part of his lower belly, giving it a subtle squeeze, and I feel him shift under my hand. His eyes flick over to me, nervous but smiling, his cheeks still flushed. He doesn’t ask me to stop, doesn’t say a word. Instead, he settles in, letting me fondle his fat freely.

My hand moves upward, stroking the plushness of his upper belly as an employee leans out of the window with his order. I catch her glance down, her eyes widening just a fraction as she notices my hand resting on his large stomach, fingers gently kneading, as though I’m claiming him in this small, subtle way. Her gaze meets mine for a brief second, and I see her take it in, a glint of confusion in her eyes, before Cairo clears his throat and reaches for the bag.

“Th-thank you,” he mutters quickly, his face a shade redder as he accepts the heavy bag and passes it over to me, his eyes filled with a mix of shyness and excitement. He looks at me then, soft incredulity etched across his features, like he still can’t quite believe what we’re doing. But I just give him a warm smile, reaching into the bag and plucking out a few fries. They’re hot and crispy, just the way he likes them, and I hold them up to his mouth.

He pauses, eyes locked on mine for the briefest moment, before he opens up, letting me slide the fries past his lips. He chews slowly, savoring the taste, and I can practically feel the tension easing from his shoulders as he gives in to the moment, letting himself relax.

“Over there’s good,” I say, pointing to an empty parking spot just ahead.

Cairo nods, his hand slipping back to the wheel as he guides the car over to the spot, his gaze flicking between the bag of food and my face, as though he can’t quite decide which one he should direct his attention to more. He pulls into the space, shifting the car into park, and sits patiently as I pull food out of the bag. I can see the anticipation building in his eyes, the hint of a grin playing at his lips. The car is filled with the scent of warm fries, thick and familiar.

I grab a few from the carton and lean over, bringing more to Cairo’s mouth. He takes each offering slowly, and I giddily watch, savoring the small smile on his face as he chews. There’s this quiet confidence about him that I love, the way he lets me guide him, lets me indulge him completely, and just the sight of him, so relaxed and happy, makes my heart beat faster.

Handful by handful, I hand him more fries, watching as he takes each one, his eyes meeting mine with that sweet, grateful look. I only half listen as he tells me about his day yesterday, little stories from work, between bites of food. His voice is low and calm. I could do this for hours, I think, just feeding and watching him, taking in every detail of his overfed body.

When he finishes the fries, I reach into the bag again, pulling out the McNuggets. I open the box  and hold one out to Cairo with a grin. He leans forward, taking it from my fingers without breaking eye contact, chewing slowly as if savoring each bite. I watch him closely as he chews and swallows. His hand slips back down to rest on his belly, gently rubbing it in small, absentminded circles, and it makes my heart skip. I reach for another nugget, bringing it to his mouth. He leans in, opens for me, his lips brushing my fingers as he takes it. I feel a thrill run through me, knowing he’s doing this for me, letting me feed him, letting me dwell on each bite.

My fingers linger on his cheek as he chews, and my gaze drifts down to his belly, round and full, spilling over his waistband.  I can’t help but admire how much he’s grown, each bite he takes making him just a little softer, a little bigger. He’s so perfect, so receptive to everything I give him. The thought of him getting even bigger because of this, because of me, sends a pulse of heat through me. I can already imagine it. It’s addictive, watching him grow, feeling his need to please me mirrored in every bite he takes. I can see it in his eyes too, that flicker of arousal he can’t quite hide. Eating for me, being fed by me, it’s a part of him now. His eagerness to binge, to fill himself up, has become something so much more than hunger.

I pick up another nugget and bring it to his lips. He eats eagerly as they dwindle one by one, his hand drifting back down to his belly. We share a few quiet moments between the last few bites, and I can tell he’s patiently waiting for something more, for me to address the arousal we both feel softly building. I see it in the slight flush on his cheeks as he takes sips of his shake. I pull out the first McChicken, and I can practically feel my pulse jump at the way Cairo subtly licks his lips as I unwrap it and hand it to him. He digs in, tearing into the sandwich with that slow, deliberate hunger that always gets me. I keep my hand on his belly, stroking slow circles as he eats, feeling the way it fills under my touch, each bite making him even more solid.

As he finishes off the sandwich, I slip my fingers under the hem of his shirt, lifting it just enough to expose the soft, rounded curve of his belly. He looks around quickly, eyes darting to the windows, but I just laugh softly and continue rubbing, taking in every detail of his full, beautiful form. 

“Keep eating,” I whisper, leaning in and pressing my palm against his belly. His eyes flutter as I move my hand down, grazing his thigh, feeling the heat radiating from him. He reaches for the second McChicken and starts on it, his face flushed with a mix of hesitation and desire that I love. I lean closer, my voice low and teasing. “Do you remember when you could only eat just one meal? Now look at you.”

He glances at me, smiling despite himself, but there’s something deep in his gaze, a yielding that makes my heart skip a beat. “Yeah. Because of you.”

I nod, biting my lip as I trail my fingers down to his waistband, finding the button of his jeans and undoing it slowly, savoring every second. He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes never leaving my face.

“That’s right,” I murmur, sliding my hand beneath his belly, feeling the soft give of him under my fingers, the way he’s filled out for me over time. “And you’re gonna get even bigger for me, right?” I ask, keeping my tone innocent, even though I already know the answer.

He swallows, cheeks pink, and nods. “Yeah.”

“Good.” I smile, my fingers tracing the waistband, giving him a knowing look. “Now, lean back.”

He reaches for the button on the side of his seat, and I watch as he reclines it, easing himself back until he’s half-lying there, so perfectly vulnerable, so ready. His belly sticks up, round and plump, and the sight of him like this sends a rush of warmth through me. He’s so deliciously, perfectly big, all mine. 

There’s a brief, thrilling thought that crosses my mind as I glance around, half hoping someone will catch a glimpse of him in this state. I spot a man in an orange vest a few spaces down in a pickup truck, enjoying his own lunch. But he’s too far away to notice anything. I turn my attention back to Cairo, seeing him look up at me, nervous but expectant, waiting for my next move.

“Pull your pants down,” I whisper, my voice leaving no room for question.

He bites his lip, hesitating, but I watch him nod, cheeks flushed as he wriggles slightly, pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to reveal himself to me, completely vulnerable and wanting. I let my gaze linger, drinking in the sight of him, my heart pounding as I lean over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

I trail my lips lower, planting soft, unhurried kisses and breaths down his neck and moobs and belly, feeling his anticipation with each touch and shallow breath he takes. My heart races with every brush of my lips, every soft caress, and I finally lower my head, letting my lips wrap slowly around him, feeling Cairo’s soft moan vibrate through the air. His body shifts just a little, his belly rising and falling beneath my hand as I savor every second, sucking slowly, purposefully, teasing him with each pass of my tongue. He’s so responsive, already trembling just from my touch, and it makes me smile as I draw back for a moment, letting him catch his breath. Then I reach over for the Big Mac, holding it out to him.

He doesn’t need to say anything. He just takes the box, opens it, and lifts the burger to his mouth, taking a big, silent bite as his eyes close. The sight of him chewing, his face softened by countless moments of overeating and pleasure, sends a thrill through me. I lean down again, letting my tongue trail along the underside of his shaft, slow and deliberate, feeling the way he gasps, how his hips shift ever so slightly, pressing up into my mouth as if on instinct.

I take him back between my lips, this time with a little more intensity, building a steady rhythm that has him moaning softly with every pass. My hand rests on one of his side rolls, fingers digging slightly into the soft flesh, and I allow myself a moment to take in the thrill of this—Cairo with his body spread out, filling the driver’s seat, my lips on him, the faint awareness of the open world outside, and his little muffled sounds that only I get to hear. The stuffing, the public setting, the sheer weight of him under my hand... it all makes me more riled, more focused, more eager.

I pick up my pace, taking him deeper into my mouth each time, until I feel his hand drift down to rest the half-eaten burger on his belly. He’s distracted, lost in the sensation, but I’m not about to let him stop now. I lift my hand and gently nudge his hand back up, guiding it toward his mouth. He seems to get the hint, bringing the burger up to his lips, taking another bite as a deep moan escapes him.

I keep going, my mouth moving faster, my hand pressing gently on his belly. I feel him squirming beneath me, grabbing his own belly, jiggling it in that desperate way he does when he’s caught up in the moment. I can already imagine what’s going through his mind, those cute little self-deprecating thoughts he sometimes mutters to himself when he’s aroused, wondering how he got this big, how he’s come to crave so much.

And as if on cue, I hear him whisper, almost to himself, “Mmmf, I’m so fucking fat…” 

The words send a shiver through me, and I feel my own arousal building  as I look up at him. He takes another greedy bite of his burger, lost in the bliss of it all, and I pull back just enough to flick my tongue over his tip, teasing him, letting him feel every little movement as I hold him in place.

His body shudders beneath me, and I quickly take him into my mouth again, deeper this time, running my lips down his length as I hear him groan, his hands now gripping his belly with that mix of need and disbelief. I pat his belly, giving it a gentle squeeze, and he shoves the last bite of the Big Mac into his mouth, moaning around the mouthful as he chews.

I can tell he’s close, right on the edge, and I add just a little more pressure, constricting my tongue as I move faster, deeper, feeling him tense beneath me. It’s not long before he gasps, his hips pressing up as he finally releases, filling my mouth, and I swallow, feeling a deep satisfaction wash over me as he trembles in my hands.

I pull away, wiping my mouth with a napkin as I take in the sight of Cairo, sprawled out, chest heaving, his face flushed. He’s still exposed as he catches his breath, coming down quickly. He soon remembers himself, and he shifts a little, shuffling up in his seat as he fumbles with his pants. A tinge of worry crosses his face, and he glances out the driver’s side window, checking for any onlookers as he tries to pull the waistband over his belly.

The sight makes me grin; his fat jiggling and wobbling with every movement, his hands trying to get a hold on that soft, round belly of his to wrestle his jeans into place. He finally manages to tug them up, though he doesn’t bother with the button, just leaves them low and loose. Then he reaches down, adjusting the seat to sit upright, shifting and settling in with a small sigh. His hand instinctively falls to his belly, and he lets out a quiet, unexpected burp. He looks over at me, bashful but smiling.

“Excuse me,” he mumbles, and I can’t help but laugh.

“That wasn’t so bad, huh?” I tease.

He shakes his head, still catching his breath, and then leans over, cupping my cheek for a soft, sweet kiss. “Not at all,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a lazy smile before he settles back against his seat. I watch him with a satisfied smile, reaching into the bag beside me. My fingers close around a barely warm apple pie, and I peel the top of the packaging away, the smell of cinnamon wafting through the car.

Without a word, I hand it to him. He takes it with a soft, almost grateful smile, and I lean back in my seat, resting my head against the headrest as I watch him take a big bite, his eyes half-closing in satisfaction. He chews slowly, one hand rubbing his belly in lazy circles, fingers pressing into his softness, completely relaxed.

After a moment, he glances over at me, smiling as he rubs his belly. “So… what else is on your list?” he asks, an eyebrow raised, his voice light and teasing, but I can see the hint of intrigue in his eyes.

I smile back at him, reaching over to rest my hand on his thigh. “Oh, there’s a lot more,” I say, letting my fingers trail gently over his leg. “We’re just getting started.”