I'd love to do this to you. We would start, though, by getting you into the best shape of your life. I have personal trainer certs, and in 4 months I'd have you looking like you came from Themyscira.
Then we'd take a break. Have a cheat week. Let your body heal. I'd want to take you shopping so you could get clothes that really showed off your new physique. And I would take you everywhere and show you off so everybody could see how in shape you are.
If a tree falls in the woods and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Likewise, if the only version of you that anybody knows is the obese, lazy cow version, do you really get to experience the exquisite shame that results from everyone seeing the evidence of your indulgence, the results of your surrender and submission to utter gluttony that this kink is rooted in?
No, we need to be sociable. Publicly, and privately, show off that body evry time you leave the house. After that week we'll spend a couple months maintaing your physique, ensuring that not only is this version of you seared into everyone's memories, but you would need to really appreciate it as well. How gracefully it moves, how clothes just hang on you like they do runway models. How everything is so much easier for you being a fit, attractive girl.
Once completed, I'll walk with you right up to that slippery slope that calls to you like a psiren. You notice the ledge you were on when you wrote this original post, way down there. From that height, well, there wouldn't have been any real fall from grace. Especially not compared to where we stand up here, now, near the clouds.
As you take that first step, eating just a few bites more than what has become normal, you already feel that tingle. Without even taking your dishes to the sink, you run to the fridge and get that special dessert we bought for this occasion. As you take that first bite, you feel your mind wanting to drop into sub-space. Locking away the Alpha mindset you acquired over the past few months, you give in and drop, taking your free hand and putting it down the front of the yoga pants you're wearing.
God, that's intense! You can't stand any longer, so you sink down, back to the fridge, fingers moving faster and faster with each inch you sink down. You take another bite, and another, savoring the flavor and thinking about how each bite you swallow is changing you on the molecular level, corrupting you from the inside, and you're actively letting it. As your butt reaches the floor, now two fingers moving in and out of your dripping, needy hole, you think about how stretchy these yoga pants are, and wonder how long it will be before they get retired because you had gained so much weight it ruined the elasticity.
With that thought your brain just sort of pops, your eyes roll back in your head and your entire being is rocked with the most intense orgasm you had ever experienced. One hand full of dessert, the other down your pants, you end up twitching on your side, your hips moving slightly forward and back, as if you're desperately trying to hump every last nerve cell to completion. I stand up and walk over to where you're laying, looking down at you. Your face is relaxed and happy, mouth slightly open, drool leaking out of your mouth. My gaze travels down your body and, noticing the wet spot on the floor from where you soaked through those yoga pants, smirk at the notion that you were drooling from both ends.
I gently pick you up. You smell like sex. And cake. As I carry you to the bedroom, I smile to myself, because you're not the only one that's been waiting months to taste something. I'm going to lay you on the bed, strip your pants off, and give you things to think about while my tongue starts to tease ur labia.
Like what you're going to eat tomorrow, or how your clothes will fit in a month, and what the ladies at the bank are going to say behind your back after you drop off a deposit in person. It's not long before you're moaning again.
