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Um is this thing a table?? If I keep getting my meals paid for I fear it might turn into one.

Imagine if you will. Being 200, 300, maybe even 400 pounds bigger. Any number your devious mind can think of.

Your body a playground of soft fat. You try to move but you’re weighed down by your immense girth. Any clothes you’ve had are long since too small. Just a mindless blob of your former self, completely helpless. Deep down though, you love it.

Every extra inch is a turn on, every bite makes you need more. Not want, a need. A primal urge to grow larger.

Picture your body fill out as it makes room for all the fattening food you’ll consume. Your arms; like custard pillows, barely able to lift, unable to feed yourself. Your boobs; so swollen and sagging no bra could ever hold them, at least, not for long. Your legs; completely encased in lard and blown up to the size of holiday hams. Not that you do much walking anymore. Your butt; massive. Round and dimpled from all the excess cellulite packed in it. Your vagina; inaccessible. You try to reach but there’s too much in the way. Encased in a thick padding, your fupa takes up handfuls. Your belly; a cascading waterfall of beautiful fat. Always slightly taught from the amount of food you shovel in. Stretch marks throughout, always growing larger.

Any movement you make now sends a wave of jiggles through your entire body. You know there is no going back, not that you would. A body truly made for pleasure.

I desperately want to help you reach this. Becoming the beautiful pampered cow you’re meant to be.