Look, piggy, you received an email on your old email-account. It's from one of your former schoolmates. Should I read it for you? Yes? Well, it's adressed to all the people of your former class to meet for a ten-year-reunion in about six months. Oh piggy, isn't it adoreble that they think you still belong to them?
I remember when you told me how big you've already been back in your schooldays. That you easily doubled most of your classmates in weight. That you had problems sitting normally on the chairs and that you'd even broken some. You were always the biggest, weren't you? So just think about the current situation then...
Most of your former classmates live perfect lives, don't they. And while they do, nobody could even imagine what happened to you in these last ten years. There are people, who founded a family, for example. All while you submitted to me and fattened up for me like none of them could even imagine. At a gaining rate of nearly 70lbs per year, you added 700lbs of extra fat and blubber to your already big frame, weighing down now at an enormous and supersized 985lbs. And while all those now successful women and men out there work on their careers in good jobs everyday, your only job is to lay here naked in your bariatric, reinforced bed and eat your life away for my pleasure like the good pig you are. Like them you also achieved a lot of hoals in your life - just... different. They got married to their partners, you got owned by me, your feeder and master. They built houses, you trapped yourself inside your own body on purpose. They travel around the world, while you can't move a single finger nowadays.
So, imagine if we'd find a way to move you to the reunion. What would all these people, your former classmates, feel, when they saw you? Would they be embaressed? Would they feel sorry for you? Would they be disgusted? Would they laugh at you? Whould they tell you that they'd always knew how you would end up, you fat fuck? Well, probably all together, don't you think?
Let's face it, piggy: you won't go there anyway. Because you have a job to do, a very important job. There's still not enough fat hanging off your body. And you are still able to breathe way too good. We should change that, shouldn't we? And while all of your classmates will meet in a couple of month to celebrate their reunion, I'm pretty sure, you won't even make it until then, you fat, greedy hog. Here, piggy, eat something. Make me proud and eat yourself to death, fat pig!
