You want immobility, you fat fuck? Well, you're going to get it. You're almost there already.
You can never close your mouth... desperate for more food even as wet burps escape from your full bloated belly.
You can barely move; your extreme obesity pinning you to your bed.
But you're not technically immobile yet. You can still roll yourself off the bed and stand. How? Probably some brute strength from within you... but as each day passes, it gets harder and harder.
It's only a matter of time until you try to roll yourself off your bed and your legs can't take the weight. I almost get wet at the thought of that inevitability... you trying to stand and your legs giving out from under you. The floor shaking as your 800lb body succumbs to gravity.
You are already too large to fit in the bathroom, and you've contemplated sawing the doorway to make it wide enough for you to squeeze through. But, for now, sponge baths work well enough.
Every other day we go through the motions of a sponge bath. I try to pretend that it's a chore... but it's a pleasure. The plastic liner on your bed, saving the mattress from the soapy water. Wringing the sponge in the bucket beside your bed, then gently rubbing your body, in between each roll of fat.
Your sponge baths seem to take a long time to you. If only you knew that I took my time because I realished every second. Lifting your fat breasts to clean under your side rolls... and needing your help to lift your belly...
I love what's under your belly. A huge penis; completely hidden by the fat surrounding it. It might as well be nonexistent. I dream of the possibility of you inside me. The fat around your manhood rubbing my clit. But we both know that's impossible. Your dick hasn't been visible in years... nevermind functional.
You try to assert your masculinity... but how can you? Breasts bigger than mine, a penis completely engulfed in fat to the point that you're impotent... you can try to be an manly as you can... it won't do any good. You're a pile of fat. Barely human, nevermind a man.
All you do is consume. Day after day of eating tens of thousands of calories. You can't stop.
Knowing immobility is right around the corner, you are desperate to turn that corner. Only a few meals are between you and complete gluttonous abandon.
You could turn the ship around if you wanted. A diet was still possible. But you hated the D-word. Caloric counting was arousing... you insisted on at least ten thousand calories a day... but exceeded that constantly.
You get snippy and grumpy if you aren't constantly filled with food. So I make sure there is always food within reach. If I didn't, I'd hear you raise your voice at me, ordering me to deliver sustenance to your bedside. I'd rather avoid your temper, so you've never wanted for things to eat.
Your appetite is a black hole. Calorie after calorie entering your gullet never to see the light of day again.
We are living the dream. Pleasure is the only point. And you are never deprived of that.
vaporwave
izzy806
germansingergirl
andulkaphoto
kaledo-art
jbbartram-illu
