Not Playing part 0

As I sat cradling my plump belly in my hands I considered how I had gotten myself into such a mess in the first place. It had started innocently enough; I had been fresh out of uni and struggling to find a job in a tough market when I saw a programme about feeders and feedees. I did a little research and found a couple of websites dedicated to the subject, I was repulsed at first but soon I had an idea on how I could make a little money while looking for a job.

I’d gained about 15lbs while working on my degree, I was by no means fat or even chubby but the extra weight had left me looking a little soft as I liked to put it. Noticing a number of people sold videos of themselves eating or allowed people to buy them food in exchange for pictures I thought, why not me? Surely someone would want to buy pictures of little old me.

I didn’t want to get fat but surely I would be able to string along some of these saps to make a quick buck. It didn’t take long to put my plan into action, I signed up to as many of the sites as I could find, GrowingBella managed to garner some attention without even filling in her profiles.

“This will be like shooting fish in a barrel” I thought with a wry grin on my face, I shouldn’t have been so cocky.

I took some photos with my belly pushed out as far as I could, it wasn’t much but it gave off the illusion that I was a little larger than I actually was, I coupled these with some photos of myself taken from underneath, emphasising my “double chin” and a bullshit bio saying how much I wanted a feeder, to leave the social norm behind and become a fully-fledged BBW. Yeah right, fat chance of that happening.

And as this damned hunger starts up inside me again I realise how foolish I had been.

I grabbed a tube of Pringles from the mini bar to sate me, I didn’t care how much they cost that bastard could afford it. He could afford anything.

I’d gotten plenty of likes and crude comments on my pictures but for every genuine feeder it seemed there were a hundred assholes looking for free kinky chat or just offering up metaphorical food. Sifting through the time wasters was becoming a full time job in itself.

Still, there were a couple of guys that had no problem sending me money through Paypal that I totally spent on “meals” and got “stuffed” for them. I had seen videos on bloating on soda and other things that made me look bigger without having much of a lasting effect on my waistline. These suckers lapped it up, getting me gifts from Amazon that I’d just sell down at the pawn shop. Life was good. Then I met him.

I had done a couple of standard dealings with Mr S, he’d buy me dinner, I’d reuse some old pics that I’d taken for someone else while saving the money, when he started asking for more. I made excuses saying how I wasn’t comfortable recording myself eating and he responded with a picture.

It was of his bank balance. There was no way this was real and I called him on it. He responded by buying the 4k television I’d put on my wish list as a joke. I did the video for him, he got to choose what I ate and I made him pay handsomely for it, at least ten times what I’d heard other girls charged for custom videos. He had no problem with it and wanted more, wanted to make sure I was well taken care of.

I had to be careful here, what if I actually started getting fat?!

 I spent a long time in the gym over the next few weeks desperately burning off whatever calories Mr S had decided to plough into my stomach. Soon after this during a fat chat (that I was charging him by the minute for) he broached the subject of me becoming his full time feedee.

I had to think of a way out of this! I talked to my friend about what had been going on and she got a good old laugh out of it but she did give me a great idea. I needed to take the power back, remember that I was the one in charge here. I’d agree to do it but under certain conditions.

1.       No more live videos, I would do a weigh in once a week and take pictures of the scale.

2.       I got to decide what to eat and when to eat it.

3.       He could have his fat chats and pictures for free but I wanted my rent and bills paid.

4.       I was allowed to stop being his feedee at any time without any hassle from him.

I figured I’d be able to fake my way long enough to make some serious money and then I’d sack him off. He was quite the businessman obviously and he had a counter offer.

1.       No more live feeding videos, but weigh ins and measuring would be recorded.

2.       He would arrange a stuffing for me once a week and pictures would be taken.

3.       I would be his feedee for no less than one year by contract and I would be compensated for it greatly.

There were several other parts about contractual clauses and such but I couldn’t believe the number he’d typed out and asked him to repeat it just to make sure. He did so and kept droning on about bonuses for goal completion and other nonsense but I wasn’t listening, it was six figures! I was going to be set for life! “Who cares if I gain a bit of weight?” I thought, I’d be filthy rich in a year’s time and be able to buy myself a slim trim body. I wish I’d listened more carefully or at least properly read the contract when his solicitor had bought it round to sign. You live and learn I guess.

That was six months ago, I’d attempted to trick my way out of gaining so much but he was so smart, he was on the ball and I’d paid for it with my figure and now I was sat here in a bloody chastity belt.

Still, things can’t get any worse…. Right?