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freakyboard768 · 5 months ago

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MELISSA TORN BETWEEN SHAME AND DEVOTION

Female Feedee and Male Feeder

-Part 1-

Melissa was a 19-year-old girl with soft curves that hinted at the warmth of indulgence—round cheeks, fuller arms, and a slightly rounded belly. She wasn't huge, but there was no denying the gentle puff of her figure, a stark contrast to the slender, health-conscious world around her. Her wardrobe consisted mostly of comfy oversized sweaters and leggings, garments that she wore with pride, even though her mom, Rose, often sighed as she passed her daughter’s room.

Rose, always trying to keep Melissa on track with healthier choices, was constantly worrying about her daughter's love for sweets and greasy foods. Melissa would often sneak into the kitchen late at night, eating chips and candy while binge-watching her favorite shows. It wasn’t that Rose didn’t love her daughter—she did, deeply—but the constant concern about her health made it difficult to see Melissa's joyful indulgence without anxiety. Their relationship had always been loving, but the gentle nagging was ever-present, a silent tension that hovered in the air.

One evening, Melissa's life changed when she bumped into Mark. He was 26, a charming guy with a crooked smile and messy brown hair, standing outside his small barbershop, which he had opened just a year ago. They exchanged a few words, and soon he invited her in for a quick trim. As she sat in his chair, she couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered with appreciation on her figure, something that had become so familiar to her but rarely acknowledged by others.

Mark, unlike most men she had known, didn't see her weight as an issue. In fact, he seemed to love her curves. He complimented her on her fuller frame, expressing how he found her “real” and “beautiful.” Melissa was taken aback but thrilled by the attention. His easygoing attitude toward her body made her feel more comfortable in her own skin than she had in years.

Their relationship blossomed quickly. Mark never judged her eating habits—if anything, he would joke about their mutual love for pizza and chocolate, encouraging her to enjoy herself. At first, Melissa felt like she had finally found someone who accepted her, someone who didn’t scrutinize her every choice. As a result, her eating habits became even more relaxed, her indulgence in sweet and greasy foods growing more frequent.

But Rose noticed. The weight gain was subtle at first—just a few pounds here and there—but over time, it became more noticeable. Melissa’s favorite sweater, once loose, began to hug her body a little too tightly. Her cheeks were rounder, and her clothes fit differently. Rose, worried and feeling helpless, finally spoke up.

“Melissa, you’re gaining weight again,” Rose said one day, her voice tight with concern. “I’ve tried talking to you about this before. You’re not being careful with your health. You can’t just eat whatever you want all the time.”

Melissa’s stomach clenched, but she stood her ground. “I’m fine, Mom. Mark likes me the way I am. And he supports me. Why can’t you?”

Her mom’s eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and hurt. “I just want you to be healthy! I’m your mother, I have to look out for you. You don’t even realize what you’re doing to your body.”

It wasn’t just the weight that bothered Rose. It was the way Melissa had stopped listening, stopped taking care of herself. The fear of her daughter’s health was suffocating, and with every compliment Mark gave her, Rose felt more and more helpless.

The tension grew. What had once been a calm, albeit concerned, relationship had transformed into one filled with guilt and sharp words. Rose’s worry turned to anger, her frustration bubbling to the surface. One evening, when the issue came up once more, Rose’s voice cracked under the weight of her emotions.

“You’re just letting yourself go, Melissa!” she snapped. “You’re not even trying to take care of yourself. Mark is encouraging you, but he’s only making it worse. Don’t you see?”

Melissa’s face flushed with a mix of hurt and defiance. “Maybe I don’t want to change. Maybe I like who I am now.”

The silence that followed was thick. Rose felt a sharp pang in her heart, but Melissa stood with her arms crossed, a shield of defiance around her. The weight of the argument hung in the air, heavy with unspoken feelings.

Melissa had found acceptance with Mark, but in doing so, she had lost something with her mom. The love between them was still there, but it was now tangled in the complexity of choices, expectations, and differing views on what it meant to be truly loved.

As she sat with Mark later that evening, eating a chocolate bar and laughing about something silly, Melissa couldn’t help but feel torn. She loved how Mark saw her, but her mother’s words haunted her. She didn’t know what the future held, but one thing was certain—she was no longer the same girl she had been before she met Mark, and neither was her relationship with her mom.

-Part 2-

Melissa found herself spending more and more time at Mark’s apartment, a cozy space right next to his barbershop. It was small but perfect, with warm lighting, a worn-out couch, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee always lingering in the air. There, she felt an unexpected sense of belonging. Mark never once judged her for indulging in her favorite foods. They’d eat takeout on his couch, laughing over pizza, fries, or whatever dessert was their latest obsession. Melissa had never felt so free.

As their relationship grew stronger, she grew more comfortable with her body. Mark adored her curves, often whispering sweet things about how beautiful she looked when they’d cuddle on the couch, or when she’d wear something a bit tighter than usual. His compliments were like a balm, soothing the insecurity that had always crept into her thoughts. She felt like she could breathe there, in his presence, without the weight of self-doubt constantly bearing down on her.

But as Melissa grew more comfortable with Mark and his support, the distance between her and her mother, Rose, grew wider. Rose’s words became harsher, sharper, and more frequent. She called more often, her tone colder each time. “Melissa, I’ve seen you on social media,” Rose said one day, her voice tight. “You’ve gained more weight. It’s not just a few pounds anymore, it’s getting out of hand. Don’t you care?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Melissa replied, her voice strained with the familiar defensive tone. “I’m happy, and Mark loves me just the way I am. Why can’t you just support me?”

But Rose’s worry was suffocating. She couldn’t understand how her daughter, once so lively and active, could let herself slip further into unhealthy habits. It wasn’t just about weight for Rose—it was about health, about Melissa’s future. But with every passing week, it felt like Melissa was slipping away, growing further into a lifestyle that Rose couldn’t accept.

One evening, after a particularly heavy dinner at Mark’s—burgers, fries, and ice cream—Melissa was lying on the couch, stomach comfortably full, with Mark’s arm around her. She couldn’t help but smile as she glanced at him, his gentle eyes warm with affection. She didn’t feel the shame she might have once felt around others. Here, she felt like she had permission to be herself, in every way.

But as she scrolled through her phone later that night, she saw a message from her mom.

**"Melissa, I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself. You’re making a choice to destroy your body. This isn’t the life I want for you. You need to start taking care of yourself, before it’s too late."**

The words stung, even though they were not new. She’d heard them in different forms over the years. But something about them felt colder now, sharper, more final. She felt a pang of guilt as she read them, but it was quickly replaced by the sense of calm that came from Mark’s presence beside her. She didn’t want to fight with her mom, but she also didn’t want to give up this feeling of acceptance and ease that Mark provided.

Mark noticed the shift in her mood. “Everything okay?” he asked gently, his hand resting on her leg.

Melissa sighed, setting her phone down. “It’s Mom... she’s upset again. She keeps saying I’m destroying my body.”

Mark frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. “Don’t listen to her. You’re beautiful, and you’re not destroying anything. You’re living your life, and you deserve to enjoy it. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for that.”

Her heart warmed at his words, and she leaned against him, closing her eyes. She didn’t want to argue with her mom, but in this moment, it felt easier to stay here with Mark—where she was accepted, where she could eat what she wanted, wear what she wanted, and just be. She didn’t feel the pressure to conform to someone else’s standards.

But deep down, a part of her knew her mom wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t just about the weight. It was about the distance growing between them. The more Melissa embraced the freedom Mark gave her, the more she felt a rift forming with her mom. She had always been the person who cared for her, guided her, but now it felt like Rose was slowly being pushed out of her life, replaced by Mark’s presence, which, while comforting, was also a constant reminder of her choices.

Rose’s phone calls became more frequent, her words more desperate, but Melissa started to avoid them. She didn’t want to face the reality her mom was trying to push on her, the harsh truth that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t being as healthy as she thought. The longer she stayed away from her mom’s concern, the easier it became to pretend everything was fine.

Yet, with every passing day, the guilt gnawed at her. She loved Mark, and she loved the way he made her feel, but part of her still missed the warmth of her mom’s concern, even if it came wrapped in frustration. She didn’t want to let go of the safety net her mom had always provided, but she wasn’t ready to give up the comfort Mark had introduced her to either.

The battle within Melissa was only just beginning, torn between the love she had for Mark’s unconditional acceptance and the love she felt for her mom, whose concern had become unbearable. She wondered how long she could keep both worlds in balance before one would inevitably topple over.

-Part 3-

As the weeks passed, Melissa’s weight continued to climb. She had never been the type to obsess over numbers, but one day, stepping onto the scale at Mark’s apartment, she saw that she had crossed the 100-pound mark. Her body felt fuller, her curves more pronounced. Her once-loose tops now hugged her belly, which had grown rounder and softer, hanging just slightly over the waistband of her jeans. Her pants, once her favorite, no longer fit. The buttons refused to close, and she found herself shopping for larger sizes just to feel comfortable.

Yet, with every change in her body, Mark’s admiration only grew. He loved the way she looked—he always had. He would often comment on how good she looked in her smaller clothes, the tightness of the fabric accentuating her curves in a way that made her feel desirable. His words became a constant source of comfort, erasing any lingering doubts she might have had about herself. His appreciation was genuine, and it made her feel seen in a way she had never felt before.

One evening, as they relaxed in his apartment after a long day, Mark leaned in, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "I have a little something for you," he said, grinning.

Melissa raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What is it?"

Mark pulled out a small bag from his kitchen counter and, with a flourish, revealed her favorite treat—four blocks of butter, coated in a thick layer of chocolate powder. It was a guilty pleasure, a snack she used to indulge in every now and then when she was younger. But with Mark’s encouragement, it had become more of a regular habit. The butter was rich and creamy, the chocolate powder giving it an almost sinful sweetness that made her heart race every time she tasted it.

“You’ve been doing so well, enjoying life,” Mark said, offering her the treat with a playful wink. “You deserve a celebration.”

Melissa hesitated for a moment, looking at the buttery blocks coated in chocolate. It was decadent, and her mouth watered just at the sight of it. She knew she shouldn’t indulge too often, but with Mark beside her, she felt as if everything was allowed. He never judged her, never made her feel bad about it. And in that moment, she didn’t want to say no.

With a soft sigh, she took the treat, savoring the first bite. The rich flavor exploded on her tongue, and she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the blissful indulgence. It felt so good, so right in the moment. She smiled at Mark, who was watching her with that same adoring gaze, as if she was the most beautiful thing in the world. She couldn’t help but feel happy.

But deep down, a small voice of doubt began to whisper. She had always loved these snacks, but now, they seemed to take on a different meaning. Each bite felt like a small step away from the healthier habits her mother had once tried to instill in her. Rose’s words echoed in her mind: *"You’re making a choice to destroy your body."*

But Mark’s voice, soft and reassuring, drowned out those thoughts. "You look amazing," he said as she finished the last piece of the butter-coated treat, his eyes full of admiration. "You’re perfect just the way you are."

Melissa smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his words. She didn’t want to feel guilty for enjoying her body, for enjoying her life, even if it meant embracing her growing figure. Mark loved her for who she was, not what she weighed or how she looked in clothes. She felt safe in his arms, and that safety made it easy to forget the growing tension with her mom.

Still, as the days passed and her clothes began to feel more uncomfortable, Melissa couldn’t entirely push away the creeping thought that maybe, just maybe, she had gone too far. She could no longer fit into her favorite jeans, and even some of her tops were beginning to stretch at the seams. The changes in her body were becoming harder to ignore, but Mark’s constant support and admiration made it easy to bury those worries deep down.

She spent more time with him, continuing their little celebrations of food and laughter, pushing aside the unease that began to stir within her. Her mom’s calls became more frequent, and the distance between them grew wider, but Melissa wasn’t ready to confront that just yet. As long as she had Mark, she didn’t feel the need to face the consequences of her choices.

For now, in Mark’s embrace, with his reassuring words and indulgent treats, everything felt right. The world outside—her mom’s worry, the changes in her body—felt far away, as if she was living in a world that only existed for her and Mark. It was a world that was easy to get lost in, a world where indulgence was the norm and she was loved unconditionally, no matter what size she was.

-Part 4-

Melissa had been avoiding her mom’s calls for weeks, but there was no escaping it this time. Rose had left a message, asking her to come by and pick up a few things from the house. It wasn’t uncommon for Melissa to swing by, but this time, she felt a knot in her stomach. She hadn’t seen her mom in a while, and her weight had become a more sensitive subject with each passing day.

As Melissa walked to her mom’s house, her steps felt heavier than usual. Her jeans, which had always been a bit tight, now strained against her growing hips, and the top she wore barely stretched over her full stomach. She felt herself wobbling more than walking, her body feeling foreign and uncomfortable in clothes that used to fit just fine. Still, she told herself it was just a quick visit, and she would get out of there fast.

When she arrived, Rose opened the door with a forced smile, her eyes quickly scanning Melissa from head to toe. “Well, you’ve really let yourself go, haven’t you?” she said, her tone sharp.

Melissa tried to smile, but it felt forced. “I’ve just been busy, Mom. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Rose didn’t respond with kindness. Instead, she walked toward the closet, pulling out some of Melissa’s old clothes—clothes that no longer fit her. “I’ve kept these for when you’d be ‘back to normal,’ but it looks like you’ll never fit into them again. How could you let yourself get so big?”

Melissa’s face flushed with embarrassment as her mom began mocking her size. “You can’t even button up your pants anymore, can you? Your stomach is hanging out, and your clothes are so tight they look like they’re about to pop. This isn’t healthy, Melissa.”

Each word felt like a slap in the face. Melissa wanted to ignore it, to shrug it off like she usually did, but this time it hit harder. It was as if the small voice of guilt that had been whispering in her mind for weeks finally had a voice, and it came from the person who loved her the most—or at least, she thought she did.

Her heart raced, and she fought back tears, but they welled up nonetheless. She didn’t want to break down in front of her mom, but it felt impossible to hold it in. With a shaky breath, she turned away, heading toward the door. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Mom. I’m going to go.”

Rose didn’t stop her, but she didn’t have to. The words had already been said, and the sting of them echoed in Melissa’s mind as she left the house.

As she walked back to Mark’s shop, her chest felt tight with emotions. She couldn’t get the image of herself in those old clothes out of her mind. She could still hear her mom’s mocking words ringing in her ears. "How could you let yourself get so big?"

By the time Melissa reached Mark’s shop, the tears were spilling over. She pushed the door open, barely managing to keep herself together as she stumbled inside. Mark was standing behind the counter, sorting some tools, and he immediately looked up when he saw her face. His smile faded as he saw the tears in her eyes.

“Melissa?” he said softly, stepping toward her. “What happened?”

“I... I just...” She couldn’t form the words, overwhelmed by the emotions rushing through her. “Mom... she... she said horrible things.”

Mark’s face softened with understanding, and before she could say more, he pulled her into his arms. She melted into him, letting the warmth of his embrace offer a sense of comfort she desperately needed. He gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing away the tears.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “You don’t have to listen to her. She doesn’t know you the way I do. You’re beautiful, Melissa. You always have been.”

He kissed her softly on her cheek, her face warm and soft against his lips. She could feel the love in his touch, his embrace strong and steady as she let herself cry. She didn’t have to say anything—he knew. Mark always knew when she was hurting.

He held her for a while, letting her cry it out, before pulling back slightly to look her in the eyes. “I love you, Melissa. All of you. You’re perfect just the way you are. Don’t let anyone make you feel less than that.”

Melissa sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I just don’t know how to deal with it anymore. I feel like... like I’m not enough. Not for her, and maybe not even for me.”

Mark shook his head, his expression serious. “You are enough. You’ve always been enough. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, especially not her. She doesn’t see you the way I do.”

Melissa leaned into him once more, finding solace in his words. The tension in her chest began to ease, the harsh words from her mom slowly losing their power. Mark’s acceptance was like a balm, soothing the raw places in her heart.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. “Thank you for loving me, even when I feel like I’m not worth it.”

Mark kissed the top of her head, holding her close. “You’re worth everything, Melissa. Never forget that.”

And for the first time in weeks, as she stood in Mark’s arms, she felt like maybe she didn’t have to be anyone else. Maybe she didn’t have to meet her mom’s expectations, or anyone else’s. Mark’s love was enough, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like it might just be enough for her, too.

-Part 5-

Mark couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Melissa hurt again, especially at the hands of her mom. Her tear-filled eyes, her body trembling with hurt—he couldn’t stand it. He made a promise to himself that he would do everything in his power to make her feel loved and happy, no matter what anyone else thought. And, if that meant keeping her satisfied with the foods she loved, then that’s what he would do. After all, her happiness was all that mattered to him.

So, over the next few months, Mark's way of showing his love became more indulgent. He knew what made Melissa smile: the buttery croissants fresh from the bakery, the creamy milkshakes with extra whipped cream, the greasy fries with cheese, and of course, the decadent snacks she had come to crave—like her four blocks of butter coated in chocolate powder.

Whenever Melissa came over, Mark would have something special waiting for her. He’d surprise her with her favorite comfort foods, making sure she never had to worry about anything other than enjoying the moment. He made sure the days were filled with laughter, food, and love, the kind of carefree joy that Melissa had longed for but had never fully experienced in her own home. With Mark, she didn’t feel judged or pressured to change. He loved her exactly as she was.

As the months passed, Melissa’s body grew fuller. Her once-gently rounded belly became a prominent curve, and her hips expanded, making it harder for her to move comfortably. It wasn’t that she didn’t notice the changes—she could feel the tightness in her clothes, and she noticed how she had to take longer breaks when walking around. She’d even catch herself struggling to bend down, or when trying to get up from a sitting position. But there was no room for shame in Mark’s presence. He would always compliment her, calling her his "sweet fatty" and teasing her about how cute she looked when she waddled slightly or when her belly poked out from her shirts.

"You’re my gorgeous girl, every single inch of you," he’d say with a wink. He adored how her soft body felt against his when they cuddled, how her fuller frame felt warm and comforting. He loved the way she looked when she sat at the table, eating her favorite foods, without a care in the world.

Mark was incredibly careful not to make her feel bad. He didn’t bring up her weight, or the fact that she was becoming less mobile. He didn’t make her feel guilty for enjoying herself, even though, deep down, he knew that the lifestyle he was encouraging wasn’t the healthiest. But he refused to let her feel anything less than loved and cherished, even if it meant feeding her more than she needed.

Melissa, for her part, felt a sense of freedom she had never known before. The food wasn’t just about filling her stomach—it was about the joy of not having to deny herself. She had always been the kind of person to feel guilty after indulging, but with Mark, guilt didn’t exist. She could eat what she wanted without being judged, and with each bite, she felt more loved, more accepted, more like herself.

The weight came on steadily. Melissa had trouble fitting into clothes she once loved. Tops became tighter, and her jeans no longer fit at all. She would giggle and shake her head when she saw herself in the mirror, but there was no real discomfort. She was genuinely happy in her own skin, despite the changes.

“Doesn’t matter if I’ve grown a little,” she’d say with a laugh. “I feel good. I feel loved.”

And she did feel loved. Mark made sure of it every single day. He’d greet her with kisses on her soft cheeks and her full lips, teasing her playfully about how her clothes couldn’t keep up with her growth. He was always there, always supportive, and always ready with the next treat or indulgence that would make her smile.

She could tell that she was becoming less mobile, but that didn’t bother her. When she couldn’t walk around as easily, Mark would carry her, or they would sit on the couch, wrapped in blankets, sharing snacks and enjoying each other’s company. They would watch movies together, laughing at silly things, and the world outside their little bubble felt so distant.

In this life, with Mark by her side, Melissa felt truly cared for. The weight was something she no longer feared; it was part of her journey, part of her growth as a person. She had learned to love her body in a way she never had before, and she was happier than ever. She felt like she belonged, just as she was.

The only thing that sometimes lingered at the back of her mind was the distance between her and her mom. Rose’s harsh words, her concern about Melissa’s health, still echoed in the back of her mind. But every time that doubt crept in, she would remember Mark’s smile, his unwavering support, and the simple truth that, in this moment, she felt truly happy.

She wasn’t sure what the future held, or whether she would ever reach a point where she needed to reconsider her choices, but right now, in this moment, Melissa knew one thing for sure: she was loved, and that was enough.

-Part 6-

Melissa’s 20th birthday was fast approaching, and as each day passed, her body seemed to grow bigger and bigger. Her belly, once a soft curve, had become massive, hanging low enough that it nearly brushed the floor when she stood. She had long stopped wearing regular shoes, unable to tie them anymore, and had switched to simple slip-ons that didn’t require any bending or effort. She found herself waddling more than walking, but she didn’t mind. Every step, every movement, felt like a part of who she was now, and she loved it.

She had always gravitated toward the comfort of familiar clothes, and her old blood-red shirt became her daily uniform. But now, the shirt was so stretched that it barely covered her enormous chest, leaving her breasts and nipples exposed. It no longer fit like it used to, but that didn’t matter to Melissa. She adored the way it looked on her. It made her feel like herself, like the person she had become over the last few months—full, confident, and unapologetically herself. Her pants were a different story. The buttons had long since popped off, and the seams had torn between her massive thighs. Still, she wore them proudly, relishing in the freedom that came with being comfortable in her own skin.

Mark continued to be her biggest support, always praising her for how beautiful she looked, no matter how much her body changed. He loved her curves, her softness, her fullness. He would often tell her how incredible she was, how perfect her body was, and that nothing about her needed to change. And for the most part, Melissa felt at peace, content in the little world she and Mark had created together.

But as her birthday drew nearer, something lingered in the back of her mind. Her mom, Rose, had been distant, and Melissa could feel the tension building. Rose had been sending messages, asking her to visit, but Melissa had been avoiding her, knowing the conversation would be difficult. She knew Rose would disapprove of how she had changed, and Melissa wasn’t sure she was ready for the confrontation.

The day of her birthday arrived, and she woke up to find Mark waiting with a small cake, his face beaming with joy as he celebrated her with all the affection she could ever ask for. He made her feel special, loved, and beautiful, even as her body continued to grow. But then, the doorbell rang. It was Rose.

Melissa hesitated before opening the door, but she knew it was inevitable. Her mom had insisted on coming, and Melissa couldn’t push her away any longer. Mark stood behind her, his calm presence offering her some comfort as the door creaked open.

Rose stepped inside, her eyes immediately landing on Melissa. The sharp disapproval was there, as it always had been. Rose took one look at her daughter, and her lips curled into a frown. “Melissa, what on earth happened to you?” Her voice was thick with concern, but it was the kind of concern that felt more like judgment. “Look at you. You’re a mess. You’re so... so big.”

Melissa felt a lump form in her throat, but she tried to stay calm. She didn’t want to fight, especially not on her birthday. “Mom, I’m happy. This is how I am now.”

Rose shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. “Happy? This isn’t happiness, Melissa. This is destruction. You’ve let yourself go completely. How do you think you’re going to live your life like this? You can’t even tie your shoes, let alone do anything that requires real movement. You’re just... giving up.”

Mark, who had been silent up until this point, could see the hurt in Melissa’s eyes. He couldn’t let her mom speak to her like that. He stepped forward, his voice firm, yet controlled. “That’s not fair, Rose. Melissa is happy. She’s healthy in her own way, and if she feels good about herself, that’s all that matters.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at Mark, clearly taken aback by his words. “You’re just enabling this,” she snapped. “You’re feeding into this unhealthy lifestyle. You’re encouraging her to eat more and get even bigger. You’re helping her destroy herself.”

Melissa felt a sharp pang in her chest. Her mother’s words, once again, stung. She had tried to avoid this moment, but now it felt like everything was unraveling. She wasn’t just fighting with her mom anymore. She was fighting with herself, with the choices she had made, and the person she had become.

Mark didn’t back down, though. He stood by Melissa’s side, his voice unwavering. “No. I’m supporting her, Rose. I love her for who she is, not for how she looks or how much she weighs. It’s not about food or size—it’s about happiness. And she’s happy. Isn’t that what you should want for your daughter?”

Rose’s expression twisted with frustration. “She’s ruining her life. You’re making it worse. Do you really think this is okay? This isn’t healthy, Mark. It’s wrong.”

Melissa’s heart was racing now, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. She wanted to scream, to tell her mom that she was happy, that she was okay. But the words caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure if she believed it herself. Could she really keep doing this, keep living like this? Was this really the right way for her to be?

Seeing the pain in her eyes, Mark gently placed a hand on Melissa’s shoulder, offering silent reassurance. “I want what’s best for her. And right now, she’s not asking for your judgment. She’s asking for your understanding.”

Rose’s face hardened. “I can’t watch this anymore, Melissa. I can’t stand by and let you destroy yourself.”

With that, Rose turned and stormed out of the apartment, leaving the two of them standing in silence. Melissa felt the weight of her mother’s words press down on her, and for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure how to feel.

Mark remained by her side, his hand still resting on her shoulder. He said nothing, just allowing the silence to stretch between them. Eventually, he broke the stillness, his voice soft but firm.

“You’re not destroying yourself,” he said. “You’re living your life. And I’ll be here, always, no matter what. You’re beautiful, Melissa. And I’m proud of you, just as you are.”

Melissa felt the tears well up again, but this time, they weren’t tears of doubt. They were tears of gratitude. She didn’t need her mom’s approval. She had Mark, and that was enough. She was enough.

-Part 7-

After that fateful birthday, where her world had seemed to unravel under the weight of her mother's harsh words, Melissa’s body continued to grow at a startling pace. Each day seemed to bring new changes, and with them, new sensations—both physical and emotional. Her feet, once able to fit into slip-on shoes comfortably, had now grown so large that they no longer fit. Even the softest, most stretchy socks were tight, with the fabric cutting into the rolls of her feet. She had to rely on shoes that barely fit at the ankle, leaving her swollen feet exposed and uncomfortable. But she didn’t care. She was used to discomfort in some ways now, and it didn't bother her the way it might have once.

Her once beloved blood-red shirt was no longer a shirt—it was a ragged piece of fabric, barely held together at the sides where the seams had ripped wide open. The fabric struggled to cover her body, with her breasts hanging low, spilling over the sides of her belly. Her stomach had grown so massive that it reached the floor completely, pushing out in front of her like a soft, round cushion that kept her pinned down when she sat. She could hardly stand without feeling the immense weight shift with her every movement.

But for all the physical discomfort, Melissa couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. She had always feared her body growing too large, but now that it was happening, she found herself relishing in it. Each new pound, each new curve, felt like a victory. She wanted to grow even fatter, to let her body expand even more, and the thought filled her with a sense of pride and excitement.

Mark, of course, was right there with her. He adored her body just as it was, and with every new change, he was there to support her. He told her how beautiful she was, how perfect her body looked, how her softness felt like heaven to him. He loved how her belly pressed against him when they hugged, how her fuller frame made her even more stunning in his eyes. To Mark, Melissa was perfect, and with each passing day, his affection for her only seemed to grow.

The more she grew, the more she reveled in the attention Mark gave her, the more she found herself wanting to indulge in the foods she loved. She ate without restriction, enjoying every bite, knowing that with every indulgence, she was becoming even more herself. She didn’t care about fitting into the world’s idea of beauty or health. She cared about feeling good, feeling loved, and feeling happy in her own skin.

The struggle to move became more pronounced. Melissa found herself barely able to leave the couch some days, her massive belly making it difficult to get up. But Mark was always there, ready to help her, ready to make her feel supported. He would lift her, guide her, and even bring her meals to her in bed, letting her enjoy the life she had created with him.

As the pounds added on, Melissa felt herself growing less and less mobile. Sometimes she could barely shift in bed without assistance, but she didn’t feel trapped. She felt empowered. This was who she was now, and she was happy with it. She wasn’t ashamed of her body; she wasn’t ashamed of her desires. She wanted to grow, to expand, and to love herself in the process. With Mark by her side, there was no need for doubt or fear. She was loved, exactly as she was.

Even when her body seemed to push past all limits, Melissa embraced it. She embraced the softness, the roundness, the way her skin stretched to accommodate each new curve. She reveled in the freedom of letting go of expectations. Her red shirt, now more a joke than a piece of clothing, was a symbol of the new Melissa—unapologetic, full of life, and growing into her own skin. She no longer worried about the opinions of others, especially not her mother. She had Mark, and that was all that mattered.

Mark encouraged her every step of the way, seeing beauty in every inch of her expanding body. He would tell her how stunning she was, and how he couldn’t wait to see how much more of her he could love. And Melissa, in return, was more than happy to let herself grow as much as she wanted. Each inch, each pound, felt like a gift.

Her growth, her happiness, and the love she shared with Mark formed a perfect, unshakable bond. Melissa was no longer afraid of who she had become. She loved every part of herself—just as Mark did. The more she grew, the more they both loved it, and the more she felt at peace in her own body.

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t just surviving. She was living. And that was all that mattered.

-Part 8-

As the days turned into weeks, Melissa’s body continued to expand at an almost unbelievable rate. She was now so large that she could no longer leave the comfort of Mark’s apartment. Her once-beloved blood-red shirt had become little more than a stretched-out scrap of fabric clinging desperately to her body. It barely circled her thick, blubbery neck, the rest of it hanging loosely over the mountainous rolls of her shoulders and back. Her pants, already ripped beyond repair, had finally burst open completely, the seams unable to contain her massive thighs and hips any longer. Now, all that remained were a few tatters clinging to her, barely covering anything at all.

Her feet, once delicate, were now so swollen with fat that each toe resembled a stubby column, big enough that it looked as though they could fit into individual shoes. Walking was no longer an option—her size had made movement almost impossible. Even shifting slightly on the oversized cushions Mark had specially ordered for her required immense effort, leaving her huffing and puffing for air, her entire body jiggling with every movement. Her once soft, melodic voice was now accompanied by a constant wheeze, the sheer weight of her body making every breath a challenge.

Melissa was fully aware of the state of her clothes. They were dirty and sweat-stained, clinging to her body in a way that made her smell of grease, food, and the faint musk of effort. But she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. Getting dressed, or even attempting to change into something else, was an impossible task now. The thought of squeezing her massive frame through even the loosest clothing felt laughable. She simply remained as she was, content in her stretched-out, worn-down garments that had become as much a part of her as her own skin.

Mark, of course, didn’t mind. If anything, he loved her even more as she grew. To him, she was a queen, a goddess of size and indulgence, and he adored every inch of her. He made it his mission to keep her happy, bringing her trays of fat-dripping, calorie-packed treats to keep her satisfied. Whether it was buckets of fried chicken, plates of greasy burgers, or her favorite butter-coated snacks, Mark never let her go hungry. He’d feed her himself when her arms grew too tired to lift the food, wiping her face with a towel between bites and kissing her cheeks lovingly.

“You’re perfect, Melissa,” he’d whisper to her, his voice soft and full of adoration. “Every inch of you is a masterpiece.”

And Melissa believed him. Despite her struggles to breathe, her inability to move, and the overwhelming size of her body, she felt loved. She felt seen. Each bite, each new pound, was a testament to the life she was living—a life of indulgence, freedom, and unconditional love. She no longer cared about the world outside Mark’s apartment. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her, not even her mom.

Rose, however, had grown colder with each passing day. Though she occasionally visited, her words were cutting and laced with disdain. When she looked at Melissa, it was as if she couldn’t even see her daughter anymore—only the mass of her body, the evidence of what she believed to be a life spiraling out of control.

“Melissa, look at yourself,” Rose said during one of her rare visits, her voice sharp with frustration. “You’re... you’re barely even human anymore. You’re trapped in your own body. How can you live like this? How can you let this happen?”

Melissa, her cheeks flushed from both embarrassment and anger, struggled to respond. She knew her mother’s words shouldn’t bother her—she had Mark, she had happiness—but they still stung. Rose’s judgment felt like a weight pressing down on her chest, heavier than anything else.

“I’m happy, Mom,” Melissa managed between labored breaths. “I’m... I’m happy with who I am.”

Rose scoffed, shaking her head. “This isn’t happiness, Melissa. This is a death sentence. And you’re letting that man—” she pointed a finger at Mark, who stood silently beside Melissa, his expression calm but tense—“enable this madness. You’re killing yourself, and he’s helping you do it.”

Mark finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. “She’s not killing herself. She’s living her life the way she wants to. Melissa is happy, and that’s all that matters.”

“Happy?” Rose spat the word like it was poison. “How can she be happy when she can’t even stand up on her own? When she’s stuck in this filthy state, huffing and puffing just to breathe? This isn’t love, Mark. This is cruelty.”

Mark’s calm demeanor began to crack. He stepped closer to Rose, his voice rising slightly. “What’s cruel is you coming here and tearing her down when she’s already been through enough. Melissa doesn’t need your judgment. She needs support. If you can’t give her that, then maybe you shouldn’t come here at all.”

Rose’s face hardened, but she didn’t say another word. She grabbed her bag and left, slamming the door behind her. The room fell silent, save for Melissa’s heavy breathing. Tears welled up in her eyes, and Mark was quick to kneel beside her, taking her hand in his.

“Don’t listen to her,” he said softly. “You’re beautiful, Melissa. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Melissa sniffled, her tears spilling over as she looked down at Mark. Despite everything, she felt safe with him. She felt loved. And as he pressed a soft kiss to her hand, she realized that no matter what her mom said, this was the life she wanted. She didn’t care if the world couldn’t accept her. Mark did, and that was enough.

-Part 9-

Over the years, Melissa’s body became the stuff of myth and whispers. She had long outgrown her painfully tight old clothes, which had eventually torn apart entirely, leaving her enveloped in her own massive, soft flesh. Her legs had swollen to the point where her fat spilled over and entirely covered her feet, which had not taken a single step in over six years. Her arms had become thick, immobile lumps of fat, hanging uselessly at her sides. Even lifting her hands to her face was impossible now. She spent every moment of her life completely still, save for the slight movements caused by the rise and fall of her immense chest as she fought for every breath. Her wheezing was so loud and constant that it could be heard from Mark’s shop next door, but to Mark, it was a melody—a sound he adored because it came from his beloved goddess.

The people in town began to talk, as they often do. Melissa had not been seen in years—seven, to be exact. To them, she was a mystery, a ghost. Some whispered that she had disappeared shortly after her 20th birthday, vanishing without a trace. Others speculated darker fates, fueled by gossip and imagination. Some said she had run away, ashamed of her size. Others believed she had passed away in secret, unable to bear the weight of her choices. Her mother, Rose, added fuel to the fire by telling anyone who would listen that Melissa had died shortly after her 20th birthday—a lie born from shame and grief. Rose had distanced herself entirely from Mark, unwilling to confront the truth of her daughter’s life.

But Mark knew better. He knew the truth. Melissa was alive and thriving—in her own way. She hadn’t left; she hadn’t passed away. She was right there, in the apartment next door to his shop, a monument to indulgence, love, and the life she had chosen. She couldn’t leave, of course. Her body had grown far beyond mobility, her massive form dominating the living space. She lay surrounded by custom-built cushions and blankets, her enormous body taking up most of the room. Her breathing was labored, her wheezing constant, but she was alive. And to Mark, she was perfect.

Mark loved her more with every passing day. To him, Melissa wasn’t just a woman—she was a goddess, a being of unparalleled beauty and magnificence. He adored every inch of her, every fold, every curve. He spent hours simply watching her, marveling at the way her body seemed to grow before his very eyes. He loved feeding her, bringing her trays of the richest, fattiest foods he could find, watching her savor every bite. He loved the sound of her heavy breathing, the way her body shifted and jiggled with even the slightest movement. To him, Melissa was the epitome of perfection.

And he loved the town’s whispers, too. He loved hearing the rumors, the stories people told about Melissa. She had become a local legend—a mystery no one could solve. People would come into his barbershop and talk about her as if she were some mythical figure, wondering what had happened to the young woman they once knew. Mark would smile to himself, knowing the truth but keeping it close to his heart. Why should he tell them? Why should he share his goddess with anyone else? Melissa was his, and he was hers. The world didn’t need to know.

Melissa, for her part, was content. She had Mark, and she had her life. She didn’t care about the whispers or the rumors. She didn’t care that she couldn’t move or that her body had grown beyond all recognition. She was happy, in her own way. She loved the feeling of fullness, the sensation of her body growing bigger and softer with each passing day. She loved that Mark adored her, that he saw her not as a burden but as a queen.

Together, they existed in their own little world, separate from the prying eyes and judgment of others. Melissa had become a legend in town, but to Mark, she was more than that. She was his everything—a living, breathing testament to love, indulgence, and devotion. And as she lay there, her body growing larger and softer with every second, Mark couldn’t help but smile. She was his beautiful blob, his goddess, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

-Part 10-

It had been so long that Melissa had lost all concept of time. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Was it 10 years since she last left the world outside? Or was it 12? Maybe even more? She couldn’t say, and truthfully, she didn’t care. Time no longer held meaning for her. Her days were spent in an endless cycle of indulgence—eating until she drifted into a food coma, sleeping deeply, and waking up only to start again. Her perception of reality had slipped into a hazy fog, and even when she asked Mark how long it had been, he would only smile playfully and kiss her forehead.

“Why do you need to know, my goddess?” he would whisper, his voice soft and adoring. “All that matters is you’re here, with me.”

The truth, though, was staggering. It had been 19 years since Melissa had disappeared from the world outside. Nineteen years since she had crossed the threshold of Mark’s apartment and let herself fully embrace the life she had chosen. In that time, her body had grown to such an immense size that it now filled nearly half of Mark’s apartment. Her massive form spilled across the floor, her rolls and curves pressing against the walls, her belly an enormous mound that rose and fell with each labored breath. She was no longer capable of moving, her limbs buried under layers of fat so thick they were all but immobile. Even her head was partially engulfed by her own body, her neck hidden beneath the folds that surrounded her.

Her breathing, once merely heavy, had become a constant symphony of loud, wheezing gasps. Each breath echoed through the walls of the apartment, a reminder of her immense size and the strain her body was under. To anyone else, the sound might have been unsettling, but to Mark, it was music. He loved hearing it, loved knowing that it came from his beloved goddess. It was a reminder of her presence, her existence, her growth—and it filled him with pride and adoration.

Melissa could no longer feed herself, her arms too buried under the rolls of fat to lift even the lightest morsel. But Mark was more than happy to do it for her. Every day, he prepared her meals with care, piling trays high with the richest, most indulgent foods he could find. He would sit beside her, holding the food to her lips, watching as she ate with slow, deliberate bites. He loved the way her body quivered with every swallow, the way her breathing grew louder and more labored as she filled herself to the brim.

“You’re perfect, Melissa,” he would say, his voice full of reverence. “My beautiful goddess. My queen.”

Melissa would smile as best she could, her cheeks so round and full that even the smallest expression took effort. She didn’t need to speak; she didn’t need to say anything at all. Mark understood her completely. He knew that she was happy, that she was content. She had everything she needed—him, her food, and the life they had built together.

The town, of course, had long since forgotten her. People no longer whispered about the girl who had vanished years ago. To them, Melissa was nothing more than a memory, a fleeting thought that had faded with time. Even her mother, Rose, had stopped talking about her, choosing to bury the pain and shame of her daughter’s disappearance. Melissa was a ghost, a relic of the past. But to Mark, she was alive. She was real. She was his everything.

As Melissa’s body continued to grow, Mark only loved her more. He loved the challenge of caring for her, the intimacy of their bond. He loved the way her presence filled his apartment, both literally and figuratively. She was his world, his purpose, his greatest joy. And as her breathing grew louder and more labored with every passing day, he found himself cherishing her even more. Each wheeze, each gasp, was a testament to her existence—a sound that reminded him of how far they had come, and how much they had built together.

Melissa no longer thought about the world outside. She no longer wondered about what could have been or what might have happened if she had chosen a different path. She was exactly where she wanted to be, with the man who loved her more than anything. Her body may have grown beyond comprehension, but her heart was full. She was happy. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

-End-

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