CW: Intox (weed), immobility, mild hucow/milking, penetration
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Laying on the couch with a milkshake in one hand and a fan in the other, I can feel myself sweating in places I didn't even know I could. Every crease and fold is practically dripping, perspiration running down my face just from adjusting a little in my seat.
"gasp...I'm too fat for this...this heat is insane..."
I've been very conscious of how my feet look and feel these days - they've been so puffy and felt so tight, I haven't even been able to fit them into my slides. My calves have been swollen too, they've felt so, so heavy. I couldn't be earning my cankles so soon, could I? No, surely not...
"It's okay sweetheart, just keep your legs elevated and rest. Don't worry, I'll take care of you! My growing girl can't be moving around so much in this weather"
And that's how it's been all week. Every day, he's brought me ice creams, milkshakes, ice cold fizzy drinks and, of course, an unhealthy amount of snacks. Not to mention we've had takeaway almost every day so far, since it's just too hot to cook. It's no excuse for him to be feeding me even bigger portions than usual though, right? Though, I suppose I don't mind...
I've caught myself drifting off into fantasies a lot more though, I must admit. I'm getting to a size where I want to be sat with my legs up a lot more and it'd be wrong not to take advantage of it. Imagine what I could do if I was immobile...I could get very used to having multiple breakfasts in bed! There'd be no need to get dressed anymore since I'm not exactly going anywhere, I could be milked all day long, get as high as I like and eat, drink, smoke, swallow...grow...oh god, I can't stop thinking about it...eating, drinking, smoking, swallowing, growing...
I doubt I'd be able to get myself off anymore, and I'm guessing I'd be way too fat to be fucked...I suppose he'll just have to fuck my folds, squeezing and shaking my heaving body just to get me off...I'd kill for this...I'm desperate to rely on a fuck machine in order to be satisfied, to be funnel fed mercilessly whilst my thighs spread towards the edges of a king sized bed, my wobbling flesh being pumped full of even more fat than anybody could dream of.
Just imagine! Coming home from work to see your giant spectacle of a wife glutting herself with enough food to fuel an office party, the hum of breast pumps milking my giant udders, the room full of smoke from my last bong rip. My hands would be alternating between that and the tube hooked up to an industrial vat of gain shake - of course you'll have to take over feeding me at some point, it's only natural that my pillowy arms would become so weighed down and packed tight full of fat that it'd be way too difficult for me to feed myself anymore.
I'd be a glorious sight to behold - a plumped up, starving, grease laden hog.
