Todd & Tara (One-Off) (Patreon)

Author's Note:  This short one-off is just a product of a free write I did today, just practicing because I had some time.  Hope you enjoy!

Todd & Tara (One-Off)

By Polarisdreamer

I’ve been a personal trainer these last two years since I graduated college, but I’ve been a feeder at heart for as long as I can remember. It might seem contradictory for someone like me to enter into the fitness profession, but it makes a little more sense once you think about it. I promise.

My job allows me to consistently hook up with cuties who used to be fit and skinny.  These girls have put on some unwanted weight, and they need my help getting rid of it. Since I’m a relatively handsome guy in peak physical condition, and my type of lady has let herself go and isn’t feeling too confident in herself, my advances have an astonishingly high success rate.

However, to succeed at my job, I have to help these lovely pudgy ladies lose the very thing that draws me to them in the first place.  And I do. It’s kinda my job. Double edged sword, right? It sucks, and it doesn’t.

Deep down, I’ve always fantasized about doing the opposite of what I normally do. Instead of helping a struggling client that I’m interested in lose weight, I want to make her gain weight. And not a little weight mind you.  Like, I want her to lose control, and get huge. So huge she has no choice but to accept her place as my permanent feedee.

Once upon a time, I thought this suppressed fantasy would never come true, but then I met Tara…

She was quite attractive, but not too smart. She possessed a tall hourglass frame, athletic legs, and long light-brown hair with blonde highlights. Her only physical flaw, a little pooch of fat slowly swelling in size just south of her belly button. Like many girls she was simply a victim of moving back home after college and not establishing a regular health and wellness routine. Too much time sitting on the couch watching TV, too much time going out clubbing with friends, not enough time moving her gorgeous body.

All I ever saw her do in the gym was play on her phone, clearly, she needed some guidance, so I initially introduced myself to her intending to give her some. If I recall correctly, my first words to her were:

“Hey, I noticed you lurking around the gym not really doing anything. I’m Todd, I work here, I’d be happy to help you if you need it.”

She responded, “Thank you so much Todd! I’m not much of a gym person! I could totally use the help! Thank you so much!”

After that, I did my job. Helped her stretch, warmup, and get a good workout in. She thanked me, swore to see me again the next day and left. However, she didn’t return a day later. She returned three months later, and at least 15 pounds heavier.

Now that little pooch of fat she was sporting had grown into a full-fledged beer belly. Her legs had softened, and her breasts were looking fuller as well. I didn’t remember her name at the time, but she remembered mine. She was even so bold as to call me away from another client.

“Todd! I need your help!” She desperately interrupted me.

“What’s up?” I answered recalling her face, but not her name.

Pointing to her newly forged gut, fortified with excess fluffy fat, she pouted, “I’m getting really fat! Tell me what to do to fix this!”

Not hesitating, even though her name still escaped me, I replied confidently, “I’m a little busy right now, and I’m booked with clients this whole shift today. How about we grab a bite to eat after I get off work and I can help you then.”

She fell for it, hook line and sinker.

“Oh my gosh, that’s so sweet! Do you want my number so we can figure out a time and place?”

“I sure would.”

That night, I took Tara to the local Cheesecake factory and told her to order what she normally would so I could observe her habits and provide some more meaningful feedback for her fitness plan. In truth, I just wanted to see the 23-year-old pig out, and she didn’t disappoint me.

Two appetizers, three alcoholic drinks, and a macaroni and cheese covered burger. This girl could eat. And she didn’t stop there. To top her off she demanded a slice of plain cheesecake, which she finished completely before our little date moved from the restaurant to the back of my car in the parking lot.

Unlike the other girls I picked up at the gym, Tara was different. Her attraction to me wasn’t born out of some insecurity she possessed. Yes, she was insecure about her weight, but she didn’t seem to be bothered by it when naked with me. If anything, she loved it when I drew her attention to it.

As we began dating, I learned that her driving motivation for losing weight came, not from her own inner desire, but from her stern mother. Her eating and drinking habits hadn’t changed when she moved back home from college. Her metabolism had kept her thin when she was younger, and now that she wasn’t moving as much as a young adult and her metabolism was slowing down, more pounds kept sticking onto her midsection despite my attempts to help her lose them.

No matter what we tried, or how hard I pushed her in the gym, or in the bedroom, she wasn’t losing weight. She wasn’t even upset about it. She started joking that I was a bad trainer and that I was trying to sabotage her because I found her gut attractive.

So, I did something I never did before. I changed my tactics. Instead of helping her lose weight, I did the immoral thing. The thing she joked about me actually doing. I helped to secretly ensure she packed on even more weight. I spoiled her with attention, food and sex. I worshiped her growing beer gut and nurtured it accordingly.

I told her I was going to start her on a new weight loss plan, one that focused on diet over exercise. She seemed very receptive to the idea. Thanks to my suggestions, she started neglecting the gym in favor of trying to fix her eating habits, but she was too much of a glutton to stick to any diets.

As a result, her clothes continued to grow tighter and tighter, as her softening body expanded. A few months into our relationship, I was helping her to replace much of her wardrobe with stretcher clothing. She’d developed some love handles to go with her potbelly and her thighs were swelling in size along with her hips and buttocks.

As she gained weight, her hourglass shape grew more bottom-heavy, and I loved it. I took pleasure in feeding her gluttonous habits. Providing her sexual gratification every time she reached the point of complete fullness. I was conditioning her to equate overeating and a full stomach with sexual pleasure, and I was succeeding. She had no idea. She just kept eating and growing for me.

Nine months into our relationship, and my pudgy princess was starting to look definitively chubby. Her mom constantly chastised her for letting herself go, but she just chalked up her gain to happy relationship weight. She reasoned that in the long-term, since she was dating me, a personal trainer, she’d eventually get her weight under control, so why worry about it now when she was having so much fun?

Boy was she wrong about that.

Her beautiful figure was growing engulfed by stubborn puffy fat. With each and every pound that found its way upon her expanding frame, she grew more lazy, more insatiable. Her fattening trajectory was undeniable. A year and a half into our relationship, her belly had grown bulbous and round, her breasts had swollen and sank onto her gut thanks to the stress of their own inflated weight. Her ass and thighs had expanded outward in every direction and were now dotted with dimply fat. Even her beautiful face was growing softer and rounder.

North of 220lbs, Tara was visibly overweight and growing more notably fat each passing week she remained with me. Her widening waistline had driven a wedge between her and her mom, so she came to live with me at my apartment. This was the nail in the coffin for her formerly fit figure. I couldn’t help myself anymore. My fantasy was coming true before my very eyes, I grew bolder and she grew fatter with my encouragement.

I took care of her every want and need, she barely needed to leave the couch. If she wanted food, all she needed to do was ask for it, and I would bring it to her. I was at her beck and call and Tara loved it. She never refused a dinner out on the town, or breakfast in bed. She’d fallen in love with me and given in to her deepest gluttonous desires.

Every time she ate, she didn’t stop until her globular belly felt incredibly heavy and bloated. Her fat oozed out of every outfit she tried to squeeze into. Her friends tried to convince her to start taking her growing weight problem more seriously, but she didn’t seem to care. She couldn’t have been happier, and neither could I.

Except, I could have been happier. As much as I enjoyed Tara’s gain, guilt for what I had done, for what I was continuing to do to Tara’s growing gut and fattening figure, forced me to come clean to her one afternoon. I loved her, and I owed her the truth.

That’s when she came clean with a truth of her own. She was a feedee. She had been from the start. Unknown to me, I’d actually hooked up with one of her friends a few months before she’d first wandered into my gym looking for me. That friend of hers had told her that I was a chubby chaser, so she’d eagerly sought me out to investigate. She wanted someone to rescue her from her mother, the only person standing in the way of what she truly wanted: to grow fatter and fatter, while dating someone who worshipped each and every jiggly extra pound she added to her figure.

I guess in my case, fantasies do come true. With our bond growing stronger after having aired our secret preferences, the contrast between my muscular figure and her big and blobby one grew. Tara decided on an optimistic goal for her weight, to weigh double whatever mine was.

I’m not going to lie, when she told me that, I started putting in double time at the gym to bulk up. I wanted her over 400lbs, no if’s and’s or but’s.