Ruined
I want you so spoiled, that you become entitled. Any moment spent without a full belly, or delicious, decadant food in your mouth feels like abuse, because a constant stream of goodies has made gluttony feel like breathing
I want you dumb, even though you once were a genius. I've taken care of everything, made all choices for you that aren't driven by immediate pleasure, leaving you with only when to cum or what to eat, so that you've forgotten how to hold a real thought
I want you fat in the way that pounds and BMI can't convey, where the only thing the few people who see you can think is fat, like you've outgrown your human identity and become nothing more than a wheezing pile of lard
I want you unfit, barely able to move. Your atrophied muscles hardly able to hold yourself up, aching with effort to waddle your obese self around even using your walker
I want you helpless, struggling to exist. Lungs and heart so overwhelmed and underworked that every movement leaves you wheezing with a pounding chest, your body so weak that even a weak orgasm has you gasping to catch your breath for minutes
