I love the idea of tricking you into thinking it’s too late to go back, that you’re far too big and far too gluttonous to ever shrink down to a smaller size or come close to full from a normal meal. Going beyond just feeding you to making you believe that you never had a choice in the first place, that your body already made the decision for you and all you can do is surrender to it~ I’d start small of course. I loosen a leg on your favorite chair just enough so that when you lower all that soft weight onto it, the whole thing gives out and sends you crashing to the floor, and I stand there watching you struggle to get up, watching your face go red with humiliation, and I tell you that only a complete piggy would make that happen, that a normal person wouldn’t look like a turned on blob of fat laying in the wreckage of such a ‘sturdy’ chair.
Then I’ll shrink your clothes in the wash, just a little at a time, so you don’t notice right away, and when you finally complain that nothing fits anymore I’ll cut the tags off too and tell you with the straightest face that those were the largest size they carry… that you’ve officially outgrown the biggest options out there, and I’ll watch that panic flicker across your face before it gets swallowed up by a familiar resignation. You’ll suck in your gut and tug at those too tight seams and I’ll just shrug and point at the family sized takeout meal getting cold on the table saying you can worry about your wardrobe later, right now your food is waiting and that’s way more important than some dumb clothes you were never going to fit into again anyway. You’ll feel bad slowly waddling to the table, but we’ll both know it’s what you want~
I’ll take you on the most stair heavy routes everywhere we go, not the elevator, not the escalator, but the long winding flights that make your thighs burn and your lungs wheeze and your whole body tremble with the effort of carrying all that jiggling fat up just one more step. I’ll watch you stop halfway, bent over, huffing and sweating, and I’ll ask you if you remember when stairs were nothing to you, if you remember when you didn’t sound like you just ran a marathon trying to get to the second floor. You’ll hate it obviously, but you also feel that dark thrill of slowing down, of pleasure winning and consuming you, of obesity swallowing you like nothing else was an option…. until that proof of just how far you’ve fallen is enough to get you off, and you’ll keep opening your mouth even though it makes the climbing all the harder because what else is such a good piggy supposed to do?
Then I’ll seal your fate with the stuffings, the real moments of pure corruption where you’ll see your last chances of turning back dissolving bite by bite, plate after plate in front of you, rich and greasy and creamy, and I’ll keep filling your mouth long after you’re full, after you’re groaning, after your belly is so tight and swollen that you can barely breathe. And when you’re lying there, defeated and stuffed beyond reason, I’ll lean in close and whisper that only a completely hopeless piggy could cram all that inside their bloated belly, that you’re clearly meant to be a blob, that no thoughts beyond “more” hold any weight anymore. I’ll tell you that your mobility is shrinking right along with your willpower, that every bite you take makes you greedier and softer and more helpless, and that you love it, that you need it, that you would rather be this overfed mess than ever go back to being small and unsatisfied thanks to ‘self-control’, a word I’ll make you un-learn the meaning of~
And you’ll believe me, that’s the best part of it all. You’ll look at your swollen gut and your thick thighs and your double chin and you’ll know I’m right. There is no going back and there never was. You were always going to end up here, stuffed and stretched and ruined, and now all that:’s left is to keep eating, keep growing, keep letting me whisper those dark little truths until you can’t even remember a time when you wanted anything different. You’ll gorge yourself into being mine, but more than that, you’ll get off on being your waistline’s own worst enemy, and I’ll make sure you never forget it ☺️
2087
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