My god, look at the fat hog I’ve created. You’ve become a blob of fat and lard that’s so fucking massive that I don’t even have to chain you down anymore. I know you can feel ever individual pound pushing you down. From your fat neck and triple chin, to your massive cellulite rippled thighs and ass that’s spread out like freshly kneaded dough, to your massive belly that overflows past your lap onto the cold floor, and the unwieldy breasts that lazily rest atop said belly. It’s all just so HEAVY.
It didn’t take me very long to get you here. A few months inside my feeding chamber can turn any skinny princess into an obese mound that’s so addicted to fat, so immobile, and so desperate for attention that they become my little toy. Just an object that I can force to grow and grow. All you know now is the feeling of a rubber tube near permanently lodged down your throat, the taste of the salty sweet weight gain shake that I pump you full of for weeks straight, and the immense weight that stops you from moving even a single muscle.
Sure, maybe I did kidnap you. Maybe I had to tie you to the floor to get you to gain all this weight. But that was a few months ago. We both know that even if you weren’t so burdened by the force of gravity, you would still choose to sit and guzzle every drop of shake that I pour down your throat.
A big part of immobility is the lack of free will for me. I want to be as big as my feeder wants me. And if they decide for me to get so big I can’t walk? Then I’ll do it gladly.
I need to be force fed and told that I have no choice. They climb on top of me shove themselves in my mouth, I’m forced to lick or suck. They touch themselves on top of me or fuck my rolls since my belly can’t be lifted.
I’m too big to fight back. I’m too big to lose weight. All I can do is eat and eat. Just consuming. And even after a day full of eating, they still will force feed me. Because I’m not big enough for them. And maybe I’ll never be
They need me to rely of them solely for all my needs. And I fucking love that
You want immobility, you fat fuck? Well, you're going to get it. You're almost there already.
You can never close your mouth... desperate for more food even as wet burps escape from your full bloated belly.
You can barely move; your extreme obesity pinning you to your bed.
But you're not technically immobile yet. You can still roll yourself off the bed and stand. How? Probably some brute strength from within you... but as each day passes, it gets harder and harder.
It's only a matter of time until you try to roll yourself off your bed and your legs can't take the weight. I almost get wet at the thought of that inevitability... you trying to stand and your legs giving out from under you. The floor shaking as your 800lb body succumbs to gravity.
You are already too large to fit in the bathroom, and you've contemplated sawing the doorway to make it wide enough for you to squeeze through. But, for now, sponge baths work well enough.
Every other day we go through the motions of a sponge bath. I try to pretend that it's a chore... but it's a pleasure. The plastic liner on your bed, saving the mattress from the soapy water. Wringing the sponge in the bucket beside your bed, then gently rubbing your body, in between each roll of fat.
Your sponge baths seem to take a long time to you. If only you knew that I took my time because I realished every second. Lifting your fat breasts to clean under your side rolls... and needing your help to lift your belly...
I love what's under your belly. A huge penis; completely hidden by the fat surrounding it. It might as well be nonexistent. I dream of the possibility of you inside me. The fat around your manhood rubbing my clit. But we both know that's impossible. Your dick hasn't been visible in years... nevermind functional.
You try to assert your masculinity... but how can you? Breasts bigger than mine, a penis completely engulfed in fat to the point that you're impotent... you can try to be an manly as you can... it won't do any good. You're a pile of fat. Barely human, nevermind a man.
All you do is consume. Day after day of eating tens of thousands of calories. You can't stop.
Knowing immobility is right around the corner, you are desperate to turn that corner. Only a few meals are between you and complete gluttonous abandon.
You could turn the ship around if you wanted. A diet was still possible. But you hated the D-word. Caloric counting was arousing... you insisted on at least ten thousand calories a day... but exceeded that constantly.
You get snippy and grumpy if you aren't constantly filled with food. So I make sure there is always food within reach. If I didn't, I'd hear you raise your voice at me, ordering me to deliver sustenance to your bedside. I'd rather avoid your temper, so you've never wanted for things to eat.
Your appetite is a black hole. Calorie after calorie entering your gullet never to see the light of day again.
We are living the dream. Pleasure is the only point. And you are never deprived of that.
- You will grow as fat as possible for your feeder
- let them feed you into a food coma at all times
- let them be your personal nurse / caretaker so they can take care of your every needs
- and most importantly, you'll only have one goal for the rest of your life : to swallow everything in sight and become the biggest, fattest, lard ridden Piggy to have existed 🐷🩷