Oh you pretend sometimes...
Pretend you're not into being fat and indulging your appetite.
But you wanted a feeder. So, what did you expect?
I'm like a vampire: once you open your door to me... you're cursed. I'm going to be there, cooking for you, ordering for you, feeding you, stuffing you.
You can pretend all you want. But YOU opened the door, big boy.
You chose the right feeder. You sit on your recliner with your belly filling up your lap. You're huge to begin with... it just means we have more time to turn you into an amorphous blob of obesity.
You say you're hungry and want to order food. This is where I come in. I insist that we have food at home; we're not going to waste money. I prepare everything we have, and you eat. Once there is food in front of you, you can't stop. Even if you don't feel hungry... if it's there, you need to treasure the taste, succumb to all the positive sensations.
It doesn't take long for you to finish. You burp, proving to me that you're full.
Here comes the next step. I haven't eaten. I don't eat much, but I still need something. And, uh oh, you've eaten everything in the house. It looks like we're going to have to get a delivery order anyway.
I start ordering food. I could have done this when you first asked, but if I did, then... how would I get you to clean out the food already in the house?
I add things you love to the cart. We pretend I'm just getting food for me. But you know I can't eat all of it. You also know I'm ordering your favorites.
Once it's delivered. I have a couple bites, then there's the excuse of, "Oh, this won't reheat well. You should finish it so it doesn't go to waste."
And 100% of the time, you do exactly as you're told.
You can pretend all you want. But your actions tell me that you're a desperate feedee... constantly craving calories.
You'll be immobile by the time I'm done with you.