Feed Me

Printer-friendly version


Audience Rating: 



Character Age: 

TG Themes: 

Other Keywords: 



by Emma Finn

An attractive woman finds a comforting love in her new boyfriend, Adam, but Adam has... ideas about the way he would like her to look and soon his influence starts to put pressure on her to gain weight. And gain weight. And gain weight. Female to female transformation without an identity change.


Meeting Adam changed my life.

I’d been burned by love before – badly burned – and I wasn’t really on the lookout for somebody new. I missed the companionship and, God help me, I missed the affection (not that I’d ever had enough of that), but I was also very wary about trusting again.

I’d been in a long term relationship for nine years with a guy called Jonathan and really, looking back, it had been nine years in prison. He’d treated me badly; made me feel worthless; and I'd rushed into the next thing in a bid to escape. Of course the next thing, fairly brief though it was, was no better. Whether I was more vulnerable because of the damage the first one had done, or whether my own neediness was its downfall, I’ll never know, but there were scars now on my heart. I told myself I was avoiding men because I liked having my own space and being my own boss. In reality, I was just plain terrified of letting someone else in.

Adam was the one to finally break through that barrier I had constructed.

During the dark days with Jonathan and his successor, I had struggled with my weight from time to time because of comfort eating. This had given Jonathan another reason to belittle me of course, making fun of my love handles. My weight had never gone that far out of control but it had become a thing of the past. I went to the gym every day straight from work now, keeping toned and healthy, and it was there that I met Adam.

He had an amazing body but he was also really personable. We got chatting while we were doing the cross trainer and I just kept seeing him around. We got on so well that I sought him out to talk to if he was around. We were able to talk freely about just about anything; it was great! He was as into exercise as I was.

After a few weeks he started hinting about meeting up away from the gym but I guess he could tell from my tales about my past beaus that I was reluctant to rush into anything. He was so sensitive, he didn’t push it. He just went on being really nice and kind and interested in what I had to say.

It was so refreshing to be able to talk to someone who made me feel better about myself. For years and years all I’d had was people who did the opposite. Adam thought my hobbies were amazing. He really encouraged me with them. We liked the same kinds of films and often talked for ages about intricate details in some of my favourites. It was awesome.

Two months after we became friends I suggested we go for a coffee after gym was finished, thinking the week after we could go for drinks; the week after that a meal out, etc. In fact we went straight on from the cafe to a pub and had a meal, all on that first day.

I had a wonderful time but I kept telling myself to slow down; reminding myself about the disasters before. I knew in my heart that it was different with Adam, but I still managed to resist going all the way.

He did kiss me though; just something sweet and brief that I could treasure.

I let him all the way in a week later and after that it seemed silly to keep holding back.

At no point did Adam disappoint. He was attentive and caring. He went on encouraging my pursuits and boosting my confidence. He persuaded me to go for a promotion at work and I got it! I felt so good about myself nowadays. The interview was a cakewalk.

Everything was falling into place.

When I found out I got the job I called Adam and invited him round to celebrate. He was so happy for me. He came with a bottle of wine and two pizzas.

I figured we’d watch a film and cuddle up on the sofa and took the food through, but when I checked the pizzas I found that the flavour I normally had was extra large. His was only medium.

“What’s going on with this pizza?” I said, taking a seat beside him. “It’s huge!”

Adam gave a nervous smile and flushed, looking sweet and endearing. “It’s silly,” he said “Really silly. And I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but...”


“It’s dumb,” he said.

“No,” I replied, touching his hand. “Tell me.”

He looked at me earnestly. “What would you say if I told you that... that I find it kind of sexy... to watch you eat.”


He shrugged, clearly embarrassed, and my heart went out to him. I knew how it felt to have feelings and to be afraid that others would make fun of them, even if it was surprising that he would like that. Keen to reassure him, I said, “There’s nothing wrong with that. Here, look.” I took out a large section of my pizza and dangled it high up, smiling as I took a bite. “How’s this?”

He chuckled and I kissed him.

“You don’t have to be shy to tell me anything,” I said. “I won’t judge you. You’ve seen me in bed. I’m not exactly straight-laced myself.”

We both had a good laugh at that.

“Eat some more,” said Adam, his eyes flashing.

I grew more serious and took another bite. I went on eating it until the slice was gone, keeping my eyes on his the whole time.

It was strange. It had never been something that I’d considered but Adam clearly enjoyed watching me and it was lovely to share such an off-beat and intimate connection.

I picked up a second piece and handed it to him then I squeezed his balls gently. “Now you feed me,” I said seductively. I glanced at the huge disc of pizza and smiled, happy to fan his flames a little. “Feed me all of it if you like.”


We didn’t have another night like that as the days went on and I semi-forgot about it. As I’d told him, I wasn’t going to judge him; he was so nice in every way. And it was harmless enough. He wasn’t into child pornography or anything creepy.

Adam liked to eat out, which was something I had never done that much of before. It was really nice to try out different restaurants and pubs around Nockton each night, tasting different things on the menu. Because we went out so often I started being more experimental; trying all sorts of things I hadn’t before. It was great fun.

Adam liked to eat early so I tended to zip home after work to get ready. It meant I couldn’t fit in my daily gym visit but I didn’t mind too much. I was in good shape. Adam switched to going in his lunch breaks which I was jealous of. With my higher workload in the new job there was no chance of that for me but it was good to have the higher wage, if only to be able to keep up with our nights out!

It was so nice to be seeing somebody so gentle and affectionate and to start to develop the little traditions that could last for years. One of ours was to go home after the meal and share a tub of Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream before making love. Adam had a wicked sense of humour and he’d spoon it into my mouth then drop some into my cleavage and scoop it out with his tongue. The love making was explosive but it was also tender and increasingly loving.

About three months in, all the meals out and lack of exercise started to catch up with me though.

My clothes were getting tight in the arms and around my hips and buttocks and my tummy was getting rather soft. I stood naked in front of the wardrobe mirror in my bedroom after another long love-bout, giving my developing flab the pinch test.

“I need to get back to the gym and go on a diet,” I said. “Look at me.”

Adam was lying on the bed, still naked. He was as muscular as ever. He didn’t say anything but he quietly got up and approached behind as I went on dourly examining what was probably half a stone of extra weight. He slipped his arms round my middle and rested his chin on my shoulder. “You look beautiful Wendy. Really beautiful.”

“Really?” I never got tired of him saying that. I’d managed to rebuild my self-esteem somewhat after Jonathan and the other guy but it was still on the fragile side.

“Sure. You look better actually,” he said. “More feminine. Softer in the face.”

I laughed. “I’m not sure I want to be softer in the face.”

Adam turned me round to face him and stroked my cheek. “Honestly. You look so much better with a bit of meat on you. You looked pretty before but with all that exercise you were a little bit... mannish.”


“Just a little bit.” He smiled. “But still pretty.”

I looked at myself again; the slight roundness of my cheeks. “You really think I look better?”

“Yes. You look spectacular. You might look even better with a few more curves.”

I frowned, trying to imagine that. During my long lost binge eating days I had been a stone or two heavier than this. I tried to remember what that had been like. I couldn’t quite picture it now but I remembered Jonathan’s belittling remarks. I was aware that people who lost weight were liable to let it creep back up as life went on and I also knew it was harder to keep it off as you got older. It was actually nice to be reassured that I would still look pretty even if that happened. I had no intention of letting my weight slip too far but it would be a relief to be with a man who cared about me enough not to mind if it did. Or even one who thought I looked better that way!

It gave me a wonderful feeling of warmth and security.


About a month later there was a team-building day at work for members of the middle management framework. We took a trip out to Nockton Forest Wildlife Centre. It was a popular weekend destination for families of Nockton Vale with woods filled with climbing frames built in the shape of animals, but we were visiting the Go Ape section where there were walkways and rope slides built high in the trees. It was just a bit of fun but the experience highlighted some home truths about my growing weight. I’d had so much going on in my life I hadn’t managed to make any time for dieting or exercise and with the amount I was eating I had carried on piling on pounds.

We had to wear helmets and harnesses with clips that could attach to the safety ropes on the upper walkways. The members of the team giggled like children while we fiddled with these, trying to get them attached securely. I found a harness that looked like it would fit and went to chat to my friends, Rebecca and Darren, but as I went to do up the straps I realised I couldn’t get the buckle clips to meet round my middle. As it was, the shoulder straps were digging into my back.

“I think you’re being a bit optimistic with that size,” chuckled Darren.

Blushing, I went back and got the next size up, squeezing into it. I didn’t go back to my friends. I was too embarrassed.

We started the exercise, climbing the rope ladders to the upper levels, as high as the leaves, but my heart wasn’t in it so much. I felt a bit down about my weight. It was quite a strenuous activity, doing all the climbing and balancing, and I was noticeably out of shape. It was a strain to keep up and at times I found myself being slow enough to form a queue of other managers behind me.

The more this happened, the more tense I got, and that slowed me down even more as I fumbled with the safety clips and squeezed through the narrow gaps to many a sigh from the following men. People were in high spirits and there was plenty of chuckling, but more and more, I started to feel as though they were laughing at me.

I hadn’t put that much weight on – my hips and bum were more padded, my face was fuller and my arms and stomach were softer – but this was the first time I’d been made to feel as though it was a problem. Knowing that Adam didn’t mind if I got heavier had made me relax somewhat but he wasn’t here now and I felt people’s impatience as proof of me letting myself go.

I kept my head down for the rest of the day, planning to get right back to the gym as soon as I could. I didn’t feel chatty anymore. I kept mostly to myself during the lunch provided, reading a magazine I had folded up in my handbag on a bench out under the trees.

Of course getting back into my gym routine was harder than I’d thought it would be. Now I was settled in my post my workload had increased and I tended not to get out of work until after six; sometimes as late as seven. Adam and I didn’t go out for quite so many meals now but he often got takeout in or cooked a meal when I called to let him know I was leaving work.

With all the change in my life, I thanked God that I had Adam. He was so loving and supportive, massaging my shoulders and feet of an evening while I tucked into the Ben & Jerry’s in front of the TV.

Our evenings were so pleasant I looked forward to them all day. All I wanted was to be around him. He was such a boon to me and until I got my weight under control I was reluctant to do too much socialising. The last thing I wanted was to be told I was getting fat by friend after friend.

I told Adam about what had happened on the work trip and he was as kind as ever about it.

“You aren’t fat darling,” he said, “you’re just nice and curvy, and you look gorgeous.” He caressed my round arm with his fingertip. “These days the average weight is much higher than it used to be. You’re just a normal size. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You look really, really nice. I like you a lot better this way. I don’t think you should worry about it.”

“Really?” I asked nervously.

“Really,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned I’d be just as happy if you stayed this way as if you lost weight; happier really. I love a girl with a bit of extra flesh on her.”

He tickled my soft belly and I giggled, kissing him.

Losing weight was such a hassle, especially with the pressures of work. What did it matter if I was a bit chubby as long as Adam still liked me? I got the feeling that he would have preferred me to be even bigger and part of me wanted to make his fantasy come true – enough to justify not worrying too much for now if I put on a pound or two more.

Basically I couldn’t fit the exercise in and I didn’t want to cut back on food for now – aside from Adam’s love, it was the one comfort I had to look forward to after a long day at the office. There would always be time to lose weight in the future. I’d done it before. It just wasn’t a priority for now.


On our six month anniversary, Adam and I moved in together.

He owned a nice flat and I was renting so his place was the logical place for a first nook to hang our hats. I was delighted when he suggested the idea. I was conscious of how quickly we were moving things forward but there hadn’t been a single danger sign. Looking back on my previous relationships, I could see now that the early days were rampant with omens of foreboding. If only I’d listened to them! Though on the other hand, I wouldn’t have dared change any of my past for fear that I wouldn’t have ended up with this new and wonderful man.

Work was going well, though it was still very high pressure. Since I’d cut back on socialising I was no longer getting on that well with my former friend Rebecca and she had a terrible reputation round the business for her ruthless culls of staff. Her methods were brutal and very much approved of by the managing director. All of us middle managers were having to work very hard to avoid the threat of redundancy. I tended to have to take work home with me to keep up, but Adam didn’t mind. He was very supportive.

Now we lived together we didn’t need to eat out at all but he was a good cook and he did all the cooking, making extravagant meals and sumptuous desserts that I found impossible to refuse. If he didn’t feel like cooking then he ordered in. I always broke off from my work to sit down to eat and we had wonderful times, chatting and joking. Adam was on a diet so he didn’t eat that much but I had more important things to worry about and I knew how much he loved to watch me chomp away. I liked the attention and my appetite was so much bigger than it used to be.

In the evening, as I worked, Adam would pop his head round the door to give me support and kisses. He liked to prepare me snacks and drinks and he kept up a steady stream of encouragement throughout my travails. He was always ready with my Ben & Jerry’s when I was finally able to knock off and join him in the lounge.

I wasn’t doing the slightest bit of exercise nowadays. Each day I walked out to the car, drove to work and walked into the building. In the evening I repeated that in reverse. Beyond that there was nothing. With all the extra delicious food I was eating I was really starting to put on weight.

My stomach bulged substantially and my breasts had grown bigger and rounder. My arms and thighs were getting chunky and my face looked quite different with the extra fat; the double chin that framed it.

It was funny, but I didn’t find the gain in weight that distressing. I guess I was just so happy. I didn’t have any reason apart from habit to second guess it. I had so much to fill my time with now that it really was the least of my concerns. Adam never exactly told me that he preferred me being fatter but I could tell that he found me sexier by the way he looked at me; the way he acted around me; his encouragement to eat; the energised way he watched me as I stuffed my face day after day.

Society tells us to hate fat and aspire toward skeletal thinness, but I was seeing life a different way now. I was actually enjoying being fat. I liked my pudgy flesh, my round face. I enjoyed looking in the mirror and seeing how much I’d changed when I noticed I’d put on yet another half stone. I was probably two stone over the weight I’d started now and it really didn’t upset me. It made me happy.

And I was starting to find something else surprising.

Adam had told me all that time ago, that he found it sexy to watch me eat.

Well I was starting to kind of see what he meant. I was starting to enjoy doing it for him.

There was something delightful about having him watch me as I put chunk after chunk of fatty food into my mouth, night after night. It was almost titillating. I really liked it. It was so nice to be looked at with such hungry desire after the years of unpleasantness with Jonathan and the other one. It was so nice to be able to share a developing passion like this.

And obviously it was something else to be able to eat without guilt; with encouragement even. I loved shovelling whatever I wanted into my mouth without having to question myself. Adam had told me about numerous studies he’d heard of, showing that being overweight didn’t cause the health risks people thought.

I spent my days looking forward to our nights together, sitting at my desk, eating the snacks he had prepared for me the night before.

I’d never known I could be so happy.


An opportunity came up in my job to work from home and I decided to take it. They were trying to maximise office space by reducing the number of staff who came in and I was more than happy to be one of the ones to stay home. It eliminated my commuting time (the Nockton ring road could be hell in rush hour traffic) and reduced costs all round. In addition to that I wasn’t enjoying the atmosphere in the office so much anymore.

What with the constant lean process reviews and ever-present threat of cutbacks, the mood wasn’t as jovial as it used to be; it could be quite cutthroat. Without that friendliness I was overhearing one too many remarks about my weight gain. With Adam being so nice about it, it made it even more awful when other people made me feel small for getting fat. Why couldn’t they just mind their own business? It was up to me if I wanted to let myself go a bit. What did they have to do with it?

Working from home was much better. I could relax far more, stopping regularly for fortifying snack breaks. I could keep my own time. It was great. I revelled in the peace and quiet away from judgmental eyes.

One weekend afternoon, however, I was out by myself doing a bit of shopping and something happened that threatened to upset everything.

In the past I had tended to go round the shops with my friend Clare. I hadn’t seen much of her since meeting Adam, but that didn’t matter. I enjoyed my own company if he wasn’t available.

I was outside on Nockton high street, walking along toward Evans to buy a new skirt, when two men started laughing at me. “Look at the size of her,” muttered one. “She’s so fat, I bet her baby pictures had to be taken by satellite.” The other bawled with laughter and they walked on, but my face went beetroot red.

Other people had heard them and all the onlookers were smirking. I’d never felt so humiliated. It made me want to curl up and die.

I suddenly became hyperaware of my body shape; the way my chubby thighs made me waddle from side to side, lumbering along heavily, my fat jiggling with each footfall. I stopped in front of Evans, a shop I would never have entered in my slim days, and looked at my reflection in the front mirror. In the eight months since I had stopped going to the gym I had put on three and a half stone. I was really, really fat now, my entire shape bloated and round. I looked like a different person. I was carrying additional mass equivalent to over twenty bags of sugar spread across my entire body. I really was obese.

I felt real shame at what I’d become; the change I’d allowed my body to make. I didn’t even know this chubby woman looking back at me. She was a stranger.

Something had to change in my life and it had to change now. I couldn’t keep on like this. I’d been kidding myself it was okay.

I went home without buying anything from Evans and waited for Adam to return from work. I felt ravenous. I would have eaten a couple of snacks in the time since I’d been in town on a normal day. Resisting was next to impossible. I ended up eating a bag of crisps and then hated myself even more for it.

When Adam came in he could tell I was upset. My eyes were red from crying.

His first thought was to make me feel looked after and he offered to cook up some bacon and eggs to make me feel better. I told him no.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I said, “eating so much. It’s got out of hand. Look how fat I am. I look awful. I can’t do it anymore. I have to lose weight as soon as possible.”

The smile fell from Adam’s face. He looked crestfallen and I felt a stab of regret for being so blunt.

“I know you... like me better when I’m, you know... large,” I said. “but some men made fun of me in town today and people are always saying nasty things. I just can’t go on like this anymore.”

Adam turned away from me. He went and sat down and I looked after him, feeling guilty.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He didn’t reply.

“Adam, I’m sorry. It doesn’t mean I don’t like your food. I love it. It doesn’t mean I want you to stop, you know, feeding me.”

Adam said nothing. I’d obviously upset him. It was just like me to do that. I was always thinking of myself while he did nothing but look after me.

“Did I say anything to make you feel bad about your weight?” he said quietly at last.

“No. Not at all.” I replied.

“Did I make you feel anything but beautiful?”

“No. You’ve always made me feel desirable.” I wished I hadn’t said anything. I wished I’d kept my big trap shut.

“I do find you more attractive like this,” said Adam. “That may be weird by some people’s standards but I love you and I don’t want you to have to feel constrained to meet some impossible Hollywood ideal. You should be free to be any shape you want.”

“I’m sorry Adam,” I said. “I shouldn’t care what other people think of me.”

“You shouldn’t,” he said. “You’re a wonderful person; a lovely, big, cuddly woman.”

“I smiled hesitantly. “Forget I said anything; really,” I said. “I was just being silly. It doesn’t matter what some stupid men I don’t even know think.”

“Of course not.”

“You’re the only one that matters.”

He smiled at me and stroked my cheek with his bent first finger. “I love you Wendy.”

“Let me order some pizza,” I said, eager to eradicate the atmosphere that had developed. “We’ll kick back and watch some TV... and you can feed me if you like.”  


By December I realised that I had put on enough weight to be classed as morbidly obese.

The inactivity and overeating had gone unchecked for months and I’d become more and more severely obese until I’d reached the point where I was just very, very, very fat.

My body was extremely bloated, with two great rolls of fat on my belly, the sides of my stomach folding out to alter my silhouette, making my shape edge toward an oval rather than a rectangle. My upper arms were huge and round, as were my legs. There was little definition to my face, set as it was upon this big round circle of fat. My breasts were like compressed balloons.

Adam had been feeding me avidly for a while now and there were no longer any illusions about what we were doing. We both knew that our unstated goal was to make me fatter and fatter; to see how far we could take it.

Adam was pleased that we’d reached this landmark weight. He loved the new fatter me. He openly told me now that he hadn’t found me that attractive physically when he met, though he’d quickly fallen in love with my personality. It was like there was a beautiful chubby woman inside me, waiting to be let free, he told me. He often told me how pretty I was; how much more desirable.

And he was as attentive and affectionate as ever; more so if anything since we’d stopped pretending we weren’t proactively fattening me up. He was the kindest man I’d ever known. I loved him more than I’d ever loved anyone. I wanted to be with him forever.

But though his enthusiasm was infectious, I couldn’t be quite as happy at the title I had achieved as he was.

I stood in the bedroom, looking at myself in the mirror, noticing that my sides on longer fit in the frame of the reflection unless I stepped back. I roved my eyes up and down my bulging form, looking at the way even the tent-like clothes I wore to hide the curves were strained to bursting.

I put my hands to my cheeks, feeling the yielding flesh; looking at my bloated forearms, my prominent chest, my round stomach.

It seemed like no time at all since I had been fit and slim, but those had been the dark days before Adam. Shocking though the transformation was, I couldn’t entertain the notion of wishing I could be back in that old life.

My career was on a better path and I’d never been happier. Why did I have to always question things? Why couldn’t I just accept that this was me now: this bulging gargantuan woman looking back at me with confusion in her face?

I’d looked up the definition of morbid obesity online earlier. It had been frightening reading. But on the other hand I was happy. Why try to change things? Why risk ruining everything?

Adam was in the kitchen, serving out the dessert: cheesecake and ice-cream. I could hear him humming to himself happily as I stood dourly staring at myself.

It was so clear to me where my priorities lay. There wasn’t any doubt in my mind.

“Are you coming through darling?” he called. “The food’s almost ready. I’m going to give you extra cream to help celebrate your amazing achievement.”

I took one last look at my huge body and bulging face. Then I went through and joined my man in front of the TV.


In February I got invited to my friend Clare’s hen party.

I hadn’t seen her (or any of my other friends for that matter) for the better part of a year, but I felt I couldn’t say no, despite my reservations about attending.

I was well aware of how fat I was now; how much I’d gained since we last met; but Clare had been my friend since middle school. I couldn’t say no to attending such a momentous event.

I shared my anxieties with Adam. He was very understanding. He knew all about my struggles with coming to terms with my weight gain and was incredibly supportive. He told me over and over again how much better I looked now; how much happier I was. He told me that my friends would accept that if they really cared about me. They wouldn’t condemn me for my choices.

I got dressed up as nicely as I could in an expensive outfit that was crafted specifically to disguise the bulges of my new body. I spent a lot of time on my make-up and hair, getting it just right. Adam told me I had never looked so beautiful. I left the flat feeling mostly confident but still a little bit nervous.

The hen party was starting off at a hotel bar in Breton called the Old Squire. The intention was to crawl down the hill toward the town centre, getting drunker and drunker, before vomiting unceremoniously into one of the bins in Hurley Park. Clare had always been something of a dedicated piss-head.

I arrived half an hour later than the start time and stood nervously in the doorway, looking for my friends. It was a Saturday night and the place was quite busy. I saw Clare and caught her eye but when she saw me her mouth fell open. Our other friend, Liz, was standing next to her at the bar. Clare tapped her arm and gestured to me. Both of them gaped at me in disbelief. My cheeks coloured red under the thick foundation.

“Oh my God Wendy,” said Clare as I approached. “What the hell’s happened to you? You look awful!”

My cheeks grew redder and hotter. I didn’t know what to say. All I could think was that I wished I hadn’t come out. I wished I’d stayed home with my boyfriend.

Clare pulled me to a darker corner of the bar and sat me down. “I can’t believe how much fatter you are,” she said. “How did you put on so much weight so quickly?”

I squirmed in my seat, trying to divert the conversation, but Clare was insatiable. She kept on questioning me, trying to get to the bottom of things, and before I knew what I was doing I had told her everything; gone over all the history between Adam and me; all the changes at work and in my life in general.

Clare listened to my story attentively but I could see her struggling to comprehend it from my perspective; to understand how the woman she knew would choose to do the things I had done. I just kept emphasising how much better my life was now, just as Adam had told me before I left; how much happier I was; but Clare was stony faced as I finished painting the picture.

“You’re my oldest friend Wendy, and my dearest,” she said. “You know that.”

“I know you are,” I replied.

“But it fills me with horror to see what you’ve done to yourself.”

“I’m happy,” I said. “Really.”

“I know you think you are,” she replied, “but you’re too caught up in it to see. Objectively it’s just so obvious that you’re making a terrible mistake.”

“What mistake?”

“Being with Adam.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “What?”

“This isn’t a healthy relationship,” she said. “You do know that, don’t you? He’s abusing you.”

I laughed. “Of course he isn’t.”

“He is Wendy. It’s obvious. He doesn’t care about you at all. Not really. How could he and let you get like this; actively encourage it? It’s unhealthy. You could get really, really ill if you keep going.”

“No,” I said. “That’s not true. Adam tells me a lot of stuff people believe about fat-related illnesses aren’t accurate.”

Clare just stared at me. “That’s crap,” she said. “He just doesn’t want you to think that it is. He wants you to keep going.”

I glared back at her, suddenly angry, then went to stand up.

Clare grabbed my wrist to stop me. “I’m not saying these things to upset you Wendy,” she said. “I care about you. I want you to be happy and healthy.”

“I am happy,” I said. “I am healthy. Can’t you see that? So I’m fat; yes! So what? I’m more contented now than I’ve ever been in my life. Why can’t you be happy for me?”

I pulled my hand free and walked away. Clare kept calling after me but I went on walking. I left the bar and walked to the nearest taxi rank then asked the first driver I found to take me home.


I got the taxi to drop me off a couple of hundred yards away from Adam’s and my place. There was a bench on a little patch of grass under a tree and I sat stewing, rolling over in my mind what Clare had said.

I’d been furious at her to her face but now I was away from there with time to think to myself, I was filled only with confusion. I looked back over my time with Adam with new eyes, feeling awful that she’d used the word abuse; awful because she had used the exact same word to describe my relationship with Jonathan years before.

Had I really allowed myself to fall into another situation like that? Was I prone to submit to the overbearing authority of men? Was it really abusive, what Adam was doing to me?

He was so nice. He was just so incredibly nice. It couldn’t be abuse. But Clare had been my friend for so long and though she could be irritating in her bluntness, I knew she was wise and observant, and I knew she had my best interests at heart.

When I stood up from the bench I was angry: at Clare; at myself; at Adam. I didn’t know where to place that anger really and there was more than enough to go around.

I marched home and with each step I felt my bloated form lumbering, the fat jiggling. I’d worked so hard at the gym for so long and then I’d allowed myself to get like this. It was pathetic. It was disgusting. It had to stop now.

Adam was reading when I entered. He jumped up, surprised I was home so early, and came through to the hall with a smile and an affectionate touch, but he sensed immediately that there was a distance between us.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I said nothing and went through to the kitchen.

“Baby, what’s the matter?”

“Look at me,” I said. “Look how fat I am. This isn’t what I want.”

He went quiet. My back was to him and I felt guilty for saying it like that. I looked back at him. He looked startled and sad. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to come on so strong, but...”

“What is it darling?”

I had lost my momentum. I said nothing back right away and he came to me and stroked my cheek. “It’s just... I was talking to Clare, and...”

“What is it?”

“She told me that... she thought... It’s silly I guess.”

“No. Tell me.” Adam took my hand and squeezed.

“She said she thought that your encouragement... for me to eat so much... that it was abusive.”

He smiled a smile of relief and mirth. “Really? She said that?”

I shrugged.

“And you believed her?”

I shrugged again.

He took both my hands in his. “Darling, I love you. You know that, right?”

I nodded hesitantly.

“I really love you... and I love being with you. I think you’re a beautiful, intelligent woman. I think the things you’ve achieved at work are amazing. You’ve got so much potential there. I’ve got nothing but respect for you.” He rubbed my hands with his thumbs. “Yes, I find you a lot more attractive now that you’re more voluptuous and feminine. I told you when we first started going out that it turned me on to feed you. I didn’t make any secret of that, did I?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Yes, I like you being big. I’d love it if you were even bigger. I’d love seeing how big you could get if we really went for it. But I don’t want any of that unless you want it too. Of course I don’t.”


“Of course I don’t.” He looked thoughtful. “But have you noticed how much happier you are like this?”

I frowned.

“When we met there was something – I don’t know – desperate about you; about your desire to get slim and stay that way. Since you started eating more you’ve felt so much better; don’t you think?”

I shrugged. My time with Adam had been the happiest in my life. I knew that as a fact. Now that I was talking to him, the idea that he was abusing me in any way seemed preposterous.

“I wasn’t sure you liked it at first,” said Adam. “The feeding. I wasn’t planning to push it. But you seemed to really get into it. You seemed to love eating; love me feeding you; even love getting fatter and fatter.” He stroked my arm. “Did I read that wrong?”

I shrugged and then shook my head. “No. I... I have enjoyed it.”

“I love you Wendy,” he said. “I want nothing more than to make you happy. It must be confusing going against the grain; doing something that society, with its limited views, thinks is weird. But I can see how happy you’ve been since we got together. I know you love it when I feed you as much as I love doing it.”

I nodded. I felt guilty and kind of sordid but it was true. I did love it.

“I want to make you the happiest woman on earth,” he said. “If that means you end up being the biggest woman on earth then so be it. I will only find you more and more beautiful. Who cares what anybody else thinks? You don’t need them. You have me.”

“Oh Adam,” I said. “I need you. I need you so much.” I pressed myself against his chest, my chubby breasts and belly squidging round him. .

“I need you too Wendy. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

We kissed, passionately and lovingly. We pulled away and I looked into his face.

Did I really mean that? Did I really love putting on weight? Did I really want it to continue?

All I knew was that I loved Adam and I couldn’t bear to risk losing him; I wanted to do anything I could to please him and I did enjoy the feeding. I liked it a lot; I was sure that I did.

“Marry me Wendy,” he said, and my heart melted.

“Yes!” I cried. “Oh yes Adam! Yes!”

We kissed again, longer this time, and I felt happier than ever.

“Screw what the world thinks,” he said. “They can’t tell us what to do. I’m going to go on making you happy every day. I don’t care what society thinks.”

I nodded, kissing him again.

“I can’t wait to see how much fatter you are by our wedding day,” he said.

This story is one of six stories in the compilation, A New You: Volume 4 by Emma Finn, a book of transformation and body swap stories available on Amazon, iBooks, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords.

If you liked this then check out my site. I post new story episodes every couple of days.


If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
59 users have voted.

And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks. 
This story is 7461 words long.