Helpless
You want to be so fat you are literally helpless to do anything without me. You want to be so fat that walking is a memory; so fat that the only use for your feet is as extra storage for the results of your constant gluttony. You want to be so fat that your upper arms have the size and cushiness of pillows; so swollen that they overcome your elbows. You want to be so fat that even your wrists have rolls; so fat that counting your chins takes both hands. You want to be so fat that your arse acts as your cushion and your anchor, melting over the sides of the king size mattress you call a home. You want to be so fat that your belly surges forward, spreading your legs permanently while making self-pleasure impossible. So fat you are helpless to indulge even that primal need, without me.
You want to be so fat that you become simple. You want your mind to forget about everything difficult and complicated - anything that isn’t about pleasure. You want to forget social niceties. You want to become lost in a constant cycle of gluttony and lust. You want food and sex to be so strongly associated in your dumb mind that even the sight of a meal makes your nethers start to tingle.
You want to be so fat that it consumes you. Not merely physically - you want it to consume *you*, your mind, your life, your personality, everything you are, as thoroughly as you consume meal after meal. You want to be so fat that the things normal people have - friends, hobbies, a job, a life - shrink away while you grow ever wider. Right now your desires are secondary to your life, your work, to social expectations. But you want to be so fat that your desires overwhelm everything. I know you want it. You know you want it. So why don’t you take my hand, and let me help you to be helpless.
