Title:           A Feedee's Thoughts
Author:          shadowofdreams
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/ZWEpvcYL
First Edit:      Friday 4th of December 2015 09:27:38 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Friday 4th of December 2015 09:27:38 PM CDT

Cake. Fucking cake. Everyday, cake.
Of course it was cake, it was his favorite food. But it got a bit boring after a bit, getting the entire thing sliced up, each piece bigger than the last… Big mounds of pastry and frosting brought to his lips and shoved into his mouth, chewing finishing microseconds before the next piece entered. Everyday the same routine of eating until he was bloated, stomach gurgling loudly as he sat back and groaned, his feeder rubbing his gut and cooing sweet superlatives about how good he was being…
What did it say about him that he found this routine?
The moments were blurring as he ate, different cake designs and clothes smudging into each other like camera negatives spliced together. Each moment and sensation a copy of an earlier one, encores upon encores going through his head.
And yet, he didn’t want this to stop.
His feeder’s expression was hard to describe to the lay-person. There was a sharp edged look of passion, domination swirling through his smile as he pushed each cake through to his subject. His bared teeth showed his stance; he knew he was in control, and he didn’t want anything to stop. But, beneath it, there was… genuine affection.
He saw it when his gut gurgled, his feeder rubbing his gut with a soft touch and empathy on his face. He saw it when he finished eating and his feeder curled up with him, giggling at each of his airy belches from eating too quickly and nuzzling his side as he smiled. He saw it in the cake designs, each one lovingly crafted from scratch, a different theme everday, each one specifically based on something he knew his feedee loved.
He shut his eyes, laying back in his seat as he let his mouth go on autopilot. His hands moved to his middle, probing and moving it with his fingers. It was weird, but he always felt… comfortable. He felt like a living teddy bear, joyful and mirthful and cuddly. He got comments constantly about how great his smile looked, how warm his body was, how nice it was to cuddle with him… It helped his self-esteem greatly, giving him an identity. He’d never thought he’d call himself a teddy bear, but he had more than a few custom-made shirts that declared that.
He smiled. He really did love all of this. As he finished the final bite of cake, he opened his mouth to speak, feeder stopping in mid-cleanup.
“Honey, is it ok if we try pies tomorrow?”