I'm watching you struggle as you try to stand up from your recliner. It's so hot, watching your out of shape body wobble and shake as you exert yourself. Huge rolls of flab quiver as you grunt and moan, struggling to lift your massive bulk. The chair groans beneath you as it bears your incredible weight. The sheer mass of your blubbery body causes everything to creak and sag and sink as you struggle with it.
You've finally made it to the point where you can barely stand up on your own. In fact, you can barely walk at all. Everything just gets so much harder to do when you're so incredibly fat. Getting dressed is a chore. Walking around is almost impossible. Even having sex is difficult, since there's so much of you to try and maneuver around.
And all that gets harder by the day. Day by day, week by week, month by month. Not to mention year after year. You just keep growing and growing and growing, and it's never going to end. Not until you're so fat that you can barely move at all.
Finally, you stand up with an labored gasp. You're struggling for breath as your heavy body tries and fails to cope with the effort of standing. Your huge, heavy belly heaves as you try to catch your breath. Sweat beads on your jiggling flesh.
Your gut hangs low and heavy as you walk, so stuffed that it feels like it's about to burst. You're sweating and panting, struggling to breathe as you waddle along, your enormous flabby ass jiggling and bouncing with every step. Your fat legs rub together, the rolls of lard on your thighs making it even more difficult to walk.
I love this shit. I love seeing you struggle like the fat, bloated pig you are. It's just so hot watching you try to move around with all that extra lard weighing you down. Listening to you moan and cry and complain about how full you are, but then begging me to feed you more anyway. There's nothing like seeing the pure lust and gluttony on your face when I feed you. Seeing how quickly and greedily and sloppily you eat, desperate for more and more and more. It's such a turn on, watching you surrender to hedonism. Seeing how much food can really stimulate you.
I always make sure you have plenty of deliciously fattening food within arm's reach. You don't even have to ask anymore. I constantly refilling your plate or bowl, making sure you don't even have to put in the effort of getting more. I want you to spend every last ounce of energy you have on eating, getting bigger and fatter and lazier.
I keep your belly constantly stuffed to bursting with calorie-rich food. It is constantly distended and painfully bloated, gurgling and groaning as it works to process your constant feasting. Your appetite seems to have no limit and you're always begging me to feed you more and more. You're so insatiable, so ravenous. You can't get enough.
I love running my hands over your soft, flabby body. Feeling the sheer mass of it, the pure thickness and heaviness and jiggliness. I love squeezing and pinching and kneading, seeing how soft and flabby and pliable your fat body is. I love seeing how much my touches affect you, how much pleasure and embarrassment and shame and arousal my caresses cause.
I know you love this as much as I do. You can't deny how turned on you get whenever I feed you. How excited you are whenever I tell you to eat more. How wet your pussy gets when you've eaten so much that you can barely breathe. You can't deny how your overburdened heart pounds in your chest whenever you shove something new into your greedy mouth. You can't deny the pleasure you get from feeling your body expand. The pleasure you get from becoming fatter and heavier. I want to see you completely surrender yourself to gluttony and sloth. I want to see you turn yourself into a fat, bloated mess, unable to do anything but sit there and eat and you're so close.
Really, it didn't take long for you to pass the point of no return, did it? The moment you became so morbidly obese that you had trouble breathing and moving around without assistance, the moment when you realized that it would soon be impossible to stop gaining weightā¦ those were the turning points. That was where you gave up trying to control yourself, and gave into the temptation of growing fatter and fatter and fatter. Now you've grown so huge that it's practically impossible to walk anywhere. You need help just getting up off your fat ass to stand up. It's hard to breathe even sitting down. And you're going to continue to grow until you're so obese that you're barely recognizable as a human being anymore.
Your fattened, helpless body is covered in cellulite, stretchmarks, and heavy rolls of fat. Every inch of you is soft and plump and jiggly. Your arms and legs are thick and heavy, covered in flab. Your ass is enormous, a huge, jiggling, wobbly mass. Your hips and thighs are thick and flabby, with deep, sagging creases. Your belly is huge and bulging, a huge, sagging, flabby mound. Your face is round and wide, with a thick, double chin and heavy jowls. You're the very picture of obesity.
The transformation has been so incredible. Seeing your body inexorably become larger and heavier and softer. Seeing the weight pile on and the fat accumulate. Watching the cellulite spread and the stretchmarks multiply. Seeing the rolls and folds sag and grow heavier and larger. It's been a wonderful process.
You stop, leaning against the wall for support, wheezing and gasping for breath. You're so out of shape, so overweight, that even this short walk has left you exhausted. Your huge belly aches and gurgles, stuffed full of food. You feel like you're about to explode. You reach down and rub it, soothing the pain.
Your fat body will never recover from the damage you've caused to yourself, not at this point. There is no point in trying to make yourself better. You are far too heavy and far too fat. No diet or workout program could possibly save you now. Not that you care anymore anyway. All you want is more food, more caloriesā¦ More fat.
Even if you try to deny it we both know you've always dreamed of being this fat, and now that you are, you just can't stop stuffing yourself with fatty foods. Not that you'd really want to stop. After all, you love it. You love the feeling of being bloated and stuffed after I feed you. You love feeding your growing flesh as your bloated body takes up more and more space.
Making you this fat and out of shape has been a dream come true for me. Watching you turn yourself into a lazy, slovenly, indulgent pig has been the most erotic thing ever. Seeing the way your body has swelled and fattened and grown, how the sheer excess of lard has taken control of you, is incredibly arousing. Seeing your huge, obese, useless body makes me want to caress it and squeeze it and nibble it and lick it. And hearing how out of breath you've gotten as the excess lard strains your decadent physique has been an incredibly sexy sign of my success.
I really love how your body has turned out, its such a perfect example of your gluttonous lifestyle. The way your belly has swelled and grown to absurd proportions, the way your breasts have become massive, soft, sagging sacks of fat hanging off your chest, the way your arms and legs have thickened and become heavy with lard, the way your ass has exploded with size, and the way your face has softened and grown rounder and wider. Every part of your body is soft and flabby, covered in cellulite and stretch marks. Every part of your body is testament to your gluttony, your indulgence.
I love hearing how heavily you breathe and how labored it gets after even minimal exertion, as your poor, obese body has trouble dealing with its own size. Seeing the sweat dripping down your flabby body.
Suddenly, you feel me grabbing you from behind. I wrap my arms around your enormous gut, squeezing and rubbing. Your flab gives way beneath my hands, jiggling and wobbling. You moan in pleasure, as my hands explore your blubbery body.
"You're such a good pig," I whisper in your ear, as my hands move up to your fat tits. I grab hold of them and give them a squeeze, making you squeal.
"Good piggy," I walk over and pat your heavy belly, making you moan. "Getting fat and lazy just the way I like,"
You're out of breath, still panting.
"Look how out of shape you are," I tease, giving the soft folds of your triple chin a pinch. You're a mess, bloated, slovenly, and increasingly helpless. You've been gorging your enormous body non-stop on every fattening and high calorie food I could find for months now and I must say I am very pleased with the results. Your body has gotten so incredibly soft, covered in rolls upon rolls of flab and a real delight to touch.
As long as you keep stuffing food into your belly, I will keep filling it with everything you crave. Every last calorie of delicious food. All I ask in exchange is that you remain my obedient, fat little pet. That you stay here and eat everything I feed you, that you fill up on all the sugary snacks and decadent meals, that you keep growing fatter and softer.
Because I love feeding you, I love fattening you up. But most of all, I love seeing how much you love it. How horny it makes you to get fatter and fatter. How excited you get each time you shove something new into your greedy, plump face. The look on your face when you outgrow some other piece of clothing or furniture. How you're loving every second of your newfound gluttony. You're so eager to grow fatter, you can barely wait to put more food in your mouth. You can't get enough, you need more, you want more, you deserve more. And I will gladly give it all to youā¦ and more.
You're so close to being immobile, and I know how you can't wait for that. What a decadent life it would be. A life in which the only effort you have to expend is eating and drinking. Where your entire existence is pure gluttony. A life where all your energy is focused on getting fatter. Just imagine how hot it will be when you're so fat that you can't even get out of bed. When you can't even move. When you can barely breathe.
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