Content warning: This story contains extreme fat shaming, non-consensual weight gain, health play, and death feedism.
I am going to ruin you pig. I told you that when we first met up after you spent weeks begging me to feed you and use you.
You were lying in the hotel bed naked after I stuffed and pumped you full of 10K calories in a few hours, you were so small then, barely 300 pounds. It was cute that you pretended to be immobile while I fed you. Listening as you played the panic up and begged “fuck fuck fuck we have to slow down! I’m getting too big I don’t want to be trapped in bed!” I would silence you by shoving a messy burger into my face a shush you, "Shut your dumb fucking mouth and eat." I said forcefully but calmly, I saw the acceptance and submission wash over you as the realization that no choice is being offered but to eat and like a passive cow as you let out oinks and weakly pawed at my crotch.
I remember that fat ball gut you had, so small compared to now. That was pure surface-level fat, pushing your organs down, putting pressure on your GI tract, and making it harder for your body to pump blood. You are at a point where every new pound of fat is a step toward utter and complete obesity.
We would meet up every few weeks and you would pretend your arteries were clogging already from an absolute binge of cheese and grease, that you I loved only wanting the cheapest unhealthy slop. Preferring a ketchup-slathered triple cheeseburger and a pile of chocolates to some fancy steak and a nice cake.
I remember the first time you panicked and begged for me to slow down, right after you hit 690 pounds. I had woken you up for your 2 a.m. funnel session, I never let you sleep for more than 4 hours without eating till you passed out, I say, "Get up and walk to the scale.", pointing to a large black metal livestock scale in the middle of the room. Your mind was weak from being fed nothing but junk, weed, alcohol, and the hormones mixed into your slop. You throw your heavy flabby arms up to gather enough momentum to heave your billowing body up. I watched as nothing happened, you tried again. Again your body moved not an inch off the bed, all you accomplished was shaking the sea of lard that was your body.
Your face flushed with sweat and burned red as you strained your body, but you were stuck. Attempt after attempt, after an attempt to lift yourself, grunts and wheezing fill the basement.
A minute later your eyes went wild, and my hand on your chest felt a heart racing faster and faster.
I see that panic, it makes me hard. You are locked in now. A complete loss of agency and now you are nothing. I own your life. Any money, anything you own is gone. All you have is my pity.
I told you my plans now that you were a helpless fucking lard-ass NEET in my home.
1. Hormones to make you the perfect pile of shame. Bury your dick in fat, widen your hips and tits, make a perfect pussy for Daddy to fuck.
2. We are starting an Only Fans! You get to be my immobile plaything that I take every sadistic desire out on, and I get all the money.
3. Some more feeders are going to stop by and have their way with you. You are my toy to loan out to other feeders and chasers.
I lean into your sweating, beat red face, and put a hand around your neck roll. "You are just a waddling weak whore doing what I say till your bloated wrecked corpse is left in a hotel room covered in cum and food, got it?"
As you opened your mouth to answer, I shoved the funnel in. You asked for this pig.
annaxmalina
baratheonpilled
turnnoffyourmind
dededos
ellievsbear
discoholicmusic
jbbartram-illu
