Feeding Fred

Fred was tied naked to a kitchen chair. His wife Candice and her friend Delia were watching him with fiendish delight. They were both full-figured women. Large busts, plump little tummies, flaring hips, very substantial bottoms, chubby thighs, full firm calves. Each of them was naked except for a short apron, so that Fred kept getting glimpses of side-boob, hips and, when they turned around, full views of round bottoms.

"What's the matter, honey?" Candice asked her husband. "We're just trying to help you understand us better." Her long auburn tresses were gathered up and put into a bun.

Delia settled a chef's hat on her short blond curls. "Honestly, Fred. We only have the best of intentions."

"Girls," he said nervously. Fred sounded like he was trying to reason with someone he feared would lose control any second... which was actually true. "Really. You shouldn't take some of the things I say seriously."

"But we do," Candice assured him. "When you told us we were overweight and had no control over our eating, we took that VERY seriously. Especially after you said it again and again and again."

"Well, maybe I did get kind of carried away." He made an attempt at self-deprecating laughter, but the sound came out choked. "It was all in fun."

"Then just think of this as fun," responded Delia, taking a big spoon off the kitchen counter."

"Right," Candice seconded. "Like we're helping you see our perspective. Giving you a chance to find out what it would really be like to have no control over your eating." She glanced back at a dozen cans lined up on the kitchen counter. "You know, so that in the future you'll think before you speak."

"Listen." His voice was shaking. "I understand now. I seriously do. So if we can just skip whatever you have planned." His eyes settled on a can that was sitting on the stove alongside the burners. "Please."

"No," his wife told him with a shake of her head. "Can't turn back now. Not after all the prep we've done. I saw you sneaking a look at that soup can. The one I've been using to save all the bacon grease and whatever else, after every time I cook. Want to start with that?"

"Yeah," said Delia. "Let's start with that." She picked up the can and held her spoon poised over it. "Ready to open up wide and have a nice big mouthful? Hmmm?"

"Oh, jeez. No. You can't. It's not fair."

"If we wanted to be fair, we'd still be pointing it out to you every time you made some nasty comment."

"And then having you say something even more hurtful instead of having a discussion. No, the time for discussion is over. Now it's time for indigestion."

Delia dipped the spoon into the can, scooped it around, and came out with a heaping mess of congealed fat. Fred's body quaked. He clenched and unclenched his bound hands.

His wife pointed out, "If you'd rather not learn your lesson this way, we can use an alternative form of persuasion. But I don't think you'd like it." She picked up a turkey baster and looked at it significantly.

He pictured the kitchen implement filled with warm oil or something and... well... used in a way he would find very unpleasant.

"All... alright. I'll try."

"You certainly will, Fred. For the next several hours. We'll take it slow so you can savor each mouthful."

Candice took a can of black olives in one hand and a can opener in the other. Delia came nearer with the loaded spoon. She held it out in front of his mouth. He inhaled the greasy odor of the cooking byproducts on it. His mouth opened and his eyes closed.

"No, no," said Delia. "You aren't allowed to shut those baby blues." She used her free hand to ruffle his blond hair. "Now be an eager eater and pay attention to what's going into your pie hole."

He gagged a little as she put the spoon partway into his mouth and paused. For as much as he had criticized their weight, that had been mostly just his bad attitude talking. He would have preferred his bride to be thinner, but on the other hand he never complained when they were in bed and he was playing with her big tits or grabbing her wide ass. It was like that now as he was stimulated by the sight of her attributes, more naked than covered. At the same time, he was made queasy by what the females were about to do to him.

Delia slid the spoon further in and used her free hand to gently push upward on his lower jaw. Once his mouth was closed she slid the spoon back out, leaving what it had held inside his mouth. He made an unhappy sound, like a kid being forced to take some bad tasting medicine.

"Now chew it up, Doctor Diet."

As he began to masticate it looked like he would start crying. Even as he was doing that, Candice was opening the can of black olives. He forced himself to swallow the fat as his wife finished her task. She speared a fat black olive, dripping with liquid, on a fork and came at him with it.

"Your favorite," she announced.

"But I hate those."

"Well, Nurse Candy says you have to eat it. And finish the whole can. And drink the juice that smells like rusty water."

"But to help you get rid of the taste, we have some nasty old coffee grinds from three days ago. Of course, we'll let you savor the taste of the fat and olives for a while before we move on to the next course."

"Now come on," Delia coaxed. "Here's another big spoonful of fat. Look how much I got on there this time."

"And then you can have a half dozen olives, one at a time."

As he worked the second mouthful of fat around in his mouth, and then ate six olives, he was feeling sicker and sicker. Next Candice gave him more olives but had him hold them in his cheeks. The sides of his face bulged out as Delia shoveled two mounds of fat onto his tongue. With his mouth stuffed, he had to sit there for several minutes. The fat was warmed up by his body temperature and some of it liquefied and slid down the back of his throat. The juice from the olives puddled under his tongue. They made him get what had been crammed into his cheeks back into the center of his mouth so he could chomp on that, turn it into a mushy mass, and gulp it down. After another round of that, the women decided to move on.

"I know you're eager to try those stale coffee grounds," Delia told him. "I think you'll really appreciate the texture. But how about something for added flavor? Candy, did you get that canned dog food I asked for?"

"You know, I couldn't remember if you wanted dog or cat food, so I got a few of each. The fish flavored cat stuff should be especially delicious."

"And with some coffee grinds mixed in it'll be irresistible."

"We could try all different combinations. Come up with our own recipes. Would you like that, Fred?"

He looked at them, the way their big boobs peeked out from the sides of their aprons, how their plump thighs were shown off, and found himself wishing they would turn around so he could get another eyeful of their big shapely bottoms. But he was simultaneously nauseated by what they were feeding him, and dreading the rest of the huge meal that would follow. His desire and revulsion were becoming linked in his mind. He was trying to think of some way out of this nightmare.

"Come on, lover."

"Yummy nummy, in your tummy."

He gagged as an open can of smelly cat food was held under his nose. A heaping spoonful of coffee grounds appeared next to it. All too soon he was being fed alternating mouthfuls of the two repulsive items. His stomach rebelled but he got it all down. He was beginning to feel full and yet there were all those cans still waiting on the counter, along with jars and other packaging. Fred saw dog food and pearled onions and Brussels sprouts. There were clams and something with a label written in Japanese that might be squid.

The smiling vindictive women continued to feed him for the next hour. His stomach became distended, giving him a slight potbelly look. While they were doing that, they were also whispering lewd suggestions, trailing their fingers through his hair, licking his ears, and nibbling his neck. In spite of the unappetizing selections he was being fed, he got aroused. The females giggled and flicked at his upright penis.

Delia got behind him with her chubby breasts pressed against his shoulders. He could feel their warmth through the thin material of her apron. Candice straddled his lap and hugged him tightly, though she had to turn her face aside to avoid his unpleasant breath. Delia reached down to finger his nipples, adding to his arousal. Candice brought her hips forward until her crotch was pressed against his rigid cock. She did an improvised lap dance, humming musical accompaniment.

"So now you have two choices," she announced to her husband. "We can continue this feeding until you feel ready to burst. Or the three of us can move to the bedroom, where you will make a sincere apology. And one of the ways you'll tell us you're sorry for all your hurtful remarks will be to get your mouth busy on our pussies. So what's it going to be? Eating even more of the most unappealing stuff we could find? Or eating us?"

Sounding stressed out, he said, "But I've never done that for you. Like I've always said, having my mouth down there is... just thinking about it make me..."

"I remember, darling. And I've never been happy about your reluctance. So we can solve two problems at once. You try to make up for your unwelcome criticisms of our weight. And we get to have some really terrific orgasms."

Delia closed her thumbs and forefingers more tightly on his nipples and gave half-twists. "Or we can keep on with this combination of teasing and stuffing you full of goodies. Time to decide, Freddy."

He told her, "But, you're just my wife's friend. I can't have sex with you."

She laughed. "It won't be real sex. Just you licking and slurping and sucking and probing, all with your lips and tongue. Like they say, 'Eating ain't cheating'. Besides, you've always gotten that eager look when you see me in a lowcut top or tight slacks. So I know you want me."

"But not that way."

"Boo hoo. It's pussy pie or it's lots more food shoved down your gullet."

He sniffled and nodded. "All right. Anything's better than more of that garbage you made me eat. I'll do it."

His wife got her mouth close to his ear and confided, "Neither of us girls has been too careful about our personal hygiene down there for the past few days. Down where you're going to have your face. Is it still okay? Or would you prefer to have us open some escargot? That's French for 'snails'. I hear they're delicious with a few gobs of spit added."

Fred's throat constricted at the thought of having to eat that. He surrendered totally and, his lips quivering, agreed to do anything and everything they demanded in the bedroom. Candice got off his lap. Delia gave his nipples a final tweak. They left his wrists bound together and repurposed another length of cord into a collar and leash. He was led naked around the house and then to the bedroom, where the women made a show of shedding their aprons. Delia took off her chef's hat and placed it on a headboard post.

"Anything you want to say about my figure now?" his wife asked, holding her breasts and raising them slightly.

"Like when you called my rear end 'double wide'?" her friend wanted to know, turning her back, bending forward, and giving her hips a shake.

"No," he said, sounding as defeated as he felt.

The girls got on the bed, side by side, legs apart. Fred felt like there was a fight going on in his crowded stomach. As he got onto the foot of the bed and laid facedown, hands still uselessly behind him, the pressure in his midsection grew more uncomfortable. He wriggled further between his wife's generous thighs, until his nose was almost touching her lightly furred mound. He couldn't prevent himself from inhaling her womanly musk. It was rather brackish, which added to his nausea.

Candice told him, "Get busy, unless you want us to take you back to the kitchen for second helpings. And thirds."

"Right." Delia chuckled. "The clock is ticking, so start in licking."

He extended his tongue and got his first taste of salty vaginal moistness. As he continued, with some instructions from his spouse, the amount of wetness increased and he was forced to swallow some. After about ten minutes he was able to give her a noisy climax.

As soon as she had descended from the heights of pleasure, Delia demanded her turn. He carefully moved over both women's inner legs and assumed the position, face-to-fur, with his second unwashed offering. Remembering what had worked on his wife, he strove to finish his distasteful task. Delia, sensing that he was rushing her, made him slow down several times. After plenty of effort, his stomach gurgling as he lapped, he put her too over the top.

Fred was mentally congratulating himself for reaching the end of his ordeal, when his wife declared, "I'm ready to go again, husband dearest. You can get back over here and start by massaging my clit with your nose. We'll make this one last a long time."

He groaned. The remains of his willpower had evaporated. It was as if he would never be able to reassert himself. Not until each of the females had enjoyed three finishes was he allowed to stop, though Delia insisted that he stay where he was, with his lower face against her pubes, and keep kissing her slit.

"And when we do let you go," his wife said firmly, "you will not be washing your face or rinsing your mouth. Plus, since you've been dissing us for the last few years, you can take the same amount of time to repay us for all our mental suffering. After that we'll decide if you get a reprieve."

"Or maybe," Delia suggested, "we'll keep you on permanent pussy pampering duty."

"And one more thing," Candice told him. "I think you'll be more of an eager eater if you're not getting spoiled in bed the rest of the time. So I'm going to cut back on your ejaculation rights. Maybe one a month until further notice."

"But... but..." There was desperation in his voice.

"Oh? You're going to talk back to me? Give me attitude? Well, for that, Mister, you just got downgraded from intercourse to hand-jobs." When it looked like he might dare to object further, she went on with, "And the next step is to go from me jerking you off, to having to do it yourself."

Delia quipped, "With me watching.

Both females laughed. Fred made a sad mewling sound. His wife asked him if he understood and agreed to everything.

"Yes, dear," he answered submissively.

"Good boy," she told him. "And we'll decide later if you need more of those special meals like you had earlier. There might be some of those in your future. They could even become a regular happening. Do you have a problem with that?"

"N... no, darling. Whatever you say. About all of it"

"That's what I wanted to hear," his wife congratulated. "Now I'm going to roll over and you can come over to my side of the bed again. I think you kissing my ass would be the perfect way to seal this deal."

Fred obeyed wordlessly. He didn't complain even when a few chaste kisses turned into extended ass worship. He had been truly broken and would remain in his new role until his spouse decided to restore his husbandly privileges. And why would she EVER do that?

*********

I know this forced feeding fantasy isn't a widespread one. But it has a special appeal for me and I wanted to share it.