Got a request for a lil puppy play in a feedism writing so I tried my hand at it~
It was just a simple *click* that sealed your fate, that first click of the leather collar around your neck marked the official boundary line between your old life and the beginning of your complete surrender. I remember those early weeks where your training was subtle but relentless, focused entirely on dismantling anything left of your discipline… any barrier to your gluttony. Every evening began with you dropping down to the floor, your whining constant while you learned the quiet art of waiting for permission to eat. You didn’t understand why you had to wait at first, but surely even you realized eventually the more you waited the more pathetically desperate you were to shovel it in your mouth. I had to teach you obedience and unbridled gluttony. The initial feedings did just that and were structured to push you past the point of comfortable fullness, coaxing your body to accept a heavy, dense ache that you’d never experienced before. Your mind struggled to process the transition, caught between the lingering memory of physical agility and the thick, sugary haze that began to settle over your thoughts after every rich meal. I noticed early on that you welcomed the moments where you were too full to think for yourself or do anything beyond nod your head to every command and open your mouth.
As the months blurred together, your will-power and self-control completely dissolved into a soft, docile compliance. You no longer questioned the leash or the growing frequency of the treats, finding a pleasant, internal quietness in simply obeying the commands. You didn’t understand it yet, but I could tell you wanted more food and less responsibility no matter what. Your body agreed as it adapted rapidly to the constant influx of calories, the smooth skin of your midsection expanding to accommodate the deliberate weight gain. The light, quick movements of your past slowed into a deliberate, heavy waddle as the fat began to spill over your frame. You watched your own reflection change, observing the way your clothes strained and split against your widening hips, quietly accepting the reality that you were eating your way out of your old identity. You never questioned it though, you just lapped up every command, every bit of praise, and every drop of whatever I fed you until there was nothing left. No longer a puppy in the making, but a morbidly obese puppy only a few meals, a few bites, a few commands away from getting off to her own gluttony~
And now look at you, a beautifully ruined, massively fattened puppy who only lives for the next feeding. You spend your hours curled contentedly on the thick, triple reinforced doggy bed, your enormous frame filling the space with layers of soft, doughy lard that make movement a chore not worth doing. Your breathing is shallow and rhythmic, just as mesmerizing as the deep, glistening red stretch marks that map out every little moment you’ve ever given in to gluttony. You’re far too big of a blob to even stand on your own two legs now, entirely content to remain on all fours where your massive, jiggly belly kisses the floor beneath you (and don’t think I don’t notice how you let it help support you when you’re past the point of full) Your thoughts have slowed to a peaceful, sleepy static, completely consumed by the bliss of your own weight keeping you trapped, holding you still as if to remind you that you’re nothing but a fat puppy waiting for her next order and next command~
And that reminder works… because when I approach with the heavy ceramic bowl, your excited breathing almost sounds like a tail thumping in slow, heavy rhythms against the carpet in pure anticipation. You tilt your chin upward without a single thought left in your head, whining softly for whatever sweet, rich slop I have to be poured down your throat. I ask if you’re a hungry puppy ready to be fed and you practically woof at me between the whines and whimpers. The friction of your thick, expanding thighs rubbing together while you squirm, a constant reminder of how far you’ve traveled from the person you used to be to the enormous spoiled puppy you’ve become. You’ve become an entirely dependent, pampered pet who relies on another hand for every basic need, utterly blissed out by the realization that you’re too wide, too heavy, and too deeply trained to ever desire anything else, and nothing could possibly change that… even when you outgrow every collar I buy <3
