Manipulated, Changed, Fattened
It begins with a slight alteration to your eating habits, an insistence that you have more than usual of a favorite food, followed by the offer of a rich dessert with your meal. This in itself is harmless, and you agree without a second thought.
The changes are small, and seemingly innocuous. You start out having a few extra cookies, or a few too many fries, and you laugh it off as just being a little indulgent. Maybe I suggest a snack, and you say no, but after a few minutes you change your mind. Before you know it, you're making excuses for each new indulgence. After all, it is so hard to resist the temptation, especially when I keep leaving junk food laying out at your place. The process is slow, and gradual, but the effect is cumulative. Before long, you find yourself having a hard time saying no when I offer you something to eat or drink.
You have to admit that it feels nice, to let me pamper you. Especially when I go above and beyond to show you just how much you mean to me. You've never had someone dote on you like this before, and you can't get enough of it.
You've gained weight, of course, but it's still unnoticeable -- for now. That's part of the fun, I love watching as your body is slowly changed and transformed, becoming softer and rounder and heavier. Your breasts will grow fuller, your ass will get fatter, and your thighs and belly will expand. At first, these changes will come gradually, one after the other, and by the time you notice it will be far too late. I do still have a while for that to happen though, so I break down any willingness to say no to food.
I bring in little snacks and treats all the time, and your home quickly fills up with a selection of goodies. Little chocolates, cakes and cookies and doughnuts and muffins -- all to tempt you. And it works, because you do your best to resist, but inevitably your willpower crumbles, and you can't help but indulge yourself. Before long, you begin to buy more fattening snacks on your own, making sure that your place is always well-stocked with them.
When you start to your weight gain, you protest, but I tell you not to worry about it -- I love the way you look, and besides, it's not like you're just getting "thick," not fat, right? I know that it's just the way your body is designed. It's not like you've stopped working out, or anything. And besides, if you really wanted to get back into shape, you could go on a diet whenever you like. So I keep subtly helping you indulge your new, growing addiction.
Speaking of working out, you do far too much for my taste, so I set to work undermining your routine. I find ways to take advantage of your weaknesses and distractions, to lure you away from the gym. Maybe a cute new movie comes out, and we watch it at home instead, where it's easier to snack. I do everything I can to find you an excuse not to exercise. And I do this with a smile, telling you that it's okay, you’re skinny and in shape and have nothing to worry about.
I notice that your clothes aren't fitting quite as well as they used to. Before long you're outgrowing all of your clothes, and I am treated to scenes of bursting buttons and ripping seams. By this point, you're starting to really notice the changes happening to your body, but the changes are still gradual enough that you don't think it's possible that you're getting fat. That's not going to last for long, of course, but the longer it takes for you to realize that you're going to get fat, the harder it will be for you to stop the process.
I do everything I can to convince you that you're not really getting fat while I enjoy watching you grow. Your body is changing, expanding, growing bigger and flabbier and sexier. Your thighs and belly and ass are growing softer and fuller, and your breasts are beginning to grow larger and heavier. There's no mistaking it now, and soon you struggle to deny what's happening to your body, especially since so much fat is starting to pile on so fast. I pretend not to notice.
Fortunately, you've developed a full-blown food addiction by now, along with an intense dislike of exercise. And of course, our sex life has never been better. Still, you are worried about all the weight you're gaining, so I help you go on a diet. I let you lose a few pounds before sabotaging that, too, and you rapidly gain it all back and more. You try a few more diets, but you never stick to them, and always end up fatter after trying.
Your weight gain is undeniable now, but still you persist in denial, insisting that you're not getting fat. Well, the delicious fat rolls you’ve grown disagree. Still, you keep trying to diet, and every time you end up gaining the weight back and more, thanks to me. You can't deny what's happening to your body, but you still can't accept it either. So I keep insisting that it's not a problem, that you're beautiful to me no matter how big you are. That seems to make things worse for you, after all, nobody really says that to skinny girls, only fat ones. Then your downward spiral really begins.
I can see the guilt and shame begin to gnaw at you as your weight skyrockets. You have no idea what's happening to your body, and you're feeling sick and ashamed about it. Your weight is going up so fast that it's scary, but you feel powerless to stop it. At this point, you've become straight-up obese, and I couldn't be happier. You're so beautiful, and you've never been sexier than you are right now. Eventually, I decide that it's the right time to come clean to you. Well, partially at least.
I take you out for dinner one night, and as we're driving home from the restaurant, I confess my "secret" to you. I don't tell you that I've been fattening you up all this time, obviously. No, instead I tell you that I’ve realized I don't want you to lose weight, and that I'm more attracted to you than I've ever been. I admit that I'm worried about how much you're gaining weight, but that I'd rather have you stay this way than ever go back to your old, skinny self.
You're more withdrawn than usual for a few days, but eventually you come around, just as I expected. After that, I take a much more active approach in fattening you up. Funnels, tubes, cakes and later, I even get you a trough. I keep you absolutely stuffed to the brim, and always make sure you get off when you're full enough. By this point, you're so addicted to food that I could literally make you climax just by stuffing you with cake.
You devolve into gluttonous, unhinged hedonism and your weight explodes. You can't get enough to eat, and your appetite is ravenous. Before long you've developed a waddle and your body is covered in huge fat rolls and deep stretch marks. You're still obviously not pleased that you're getting even fatter, but you've totally given up hope by now. Besides, that's cute too.
Your body grows, and grows, and grows. You start to get really large, really fast, and it doesn't stop. Your belly gets bigger and rounder and your thighs grow heavy and soft. Your tits balloon and become even larger, your ass expands and gets fatter and flabbier, and your face grows rounder and fuller. Your mobility worsens by the day, but when you complain about that I just shove something fattening into your mouth and you stop thinking about it.
You soon become completely housebound, and sit around gorging yourself in the nude. The only exercise you do anymore is masturbating, which has become a legitimate exercise with your massive belly in the way of your pussy. Eventually I get tired of you destroying my furniture and move you to a bariatric bed in a spare room. You're too wide and heavy for anything else now.
You've become such a pig, and I’m still pampering you and I always give you exactly what you want. Food, orgasms, you name it. You're such a greedy fatty, but I'd never dream of saying no to you. I spoil you, and you eat yourself stupid and love it. It's truly incredible just how obese you've become, and it's equally incredible that you're still growing. Really, I never imagined you (Or anyone else, for that matter) could get this fat.
Massive piles of flab pin you to the bed, your beautifully engorged body immobilized by your uncontrollable gluttony. You're just so fucking fat that it's impossible for you to move. Your arms are too heavy to lift very far, your legs are way too thick to walk, your belly too heavy even for me to lift without your crane. And then there's your ass -- it's become a sea of lard that covers much of your bed. Sometimes I wonder how you’d react if I ever told you that it’s my fault you’ve become such a massive pile of lard.
