I love how denial surfaces in certain feedees. The lies they tell others. The lies they tell themselves.
They can no longer cum unless it's at the tail end of a multiple thousand calorie binge, being held in a threatening manner by their feeder, and being commanded to squeal like the dumb, pig-brained slut that they are gradually turning into over the past several months.
The same person will tell you they don't want to be immobile. They'll go on about how 500lbs is going to happen. It has to. It must feel amazing to be so big. They'll even see My 600lb Life and envy some of those setups. Oh to be that big...
But no, they don't want to be immobile. Right?
Their tumblr likes betray them. A spotless record on their blog posts. Just an obese girl who loves getting fatter! But the likes are a certain level deeper. Dark, aggressive feeders. Kidnapping fantasies. Locked in a room. Forced enabling. Conditioning someone to eat more. Vignettes of someone coming to grips with the fact they cannot walk. Every movement is a desperate shuffle to a nearby place to collapse onto.
Of course, just fantasies. As if that's something to be proud of. You'll gain to 600lbs but won't become immobile? How noble. The picture of self restraint.
This all coming from the same person who panics at the mention of going on a walk. You can't prove to me that you'd be able to reign it in for one day? One measly day? We'll park in front of your favorite restaurant and walk around the block. Will you cry because I don't let you have dinner here? Can you resist wanting to stuff yourself in public? Aren't you proud that you can walk? I thought these things mattered.
Or are you a pig. A cow. A weak-minded food addict.
I see through these lies. You hope and pray that telling yourself and others about not wanting to be immobile will make it feel true. A terrible fate that you aren't stumbling towards. As if eating 5,000+ calories a day and taking fewer than 20 steps at a time isn't going to catch up to you in a few years.
Yet you'll dance as close to the line as you can go. The mental gymnastics of suggesting that 600lbs isn't bad! It's those last 50lbs+ that would suddenly become less pleasurable.
You hope they become less pleasurable. Or is it the fear that they'll hit even harder? Knowing you're trapped. Unemployable. Months and years of restriction away from being able to live independently.
Gasping for breath from laying motionless. Whimpering from another mindless binge session. Having a feeder warning you that you are NOWHERE close to being big enough for their perverted desires. Terrified at the occasional realization that your body and increasing weight is entirely decided upon by someone else.
Unable to resist the way your feeder makes you cum. Will it look especially pathetic to orgasm at that size? Your body twitching and jiggling in pleasure, too overloaded with fat and weight to properly shake and cum like you did hundreds of pounds ago.
What a lovely fantasy. It couldn't be you...
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