Eat.

You'll grow so fast it'll slow you down, meticulous with how you'll have to plan each and every flabby footstep. Impossible to miss you anymore with how far & wide your belly juts out. Forcing your legs apart, a rounded rippling reverberating if you go to catch your heavy breath too hard. Like the ways I've deviously placed every last domino, to compound each pound to this very moment. Where you find yourself grown so hefty and large, you have to cry out for help.

Only for me to show up with more, don't worry too much little doll... I'll see to ALL your needs. I'll make sure your butt grows so big it demands enough room with every seat. You'll hardly be able to walk but when you will I'll know exactly where you are given how hard the house shakes after helping you up.

You're going to get so fat & flabby for me, you will turn into my living breathing plushie toy unable to contain the words "no more" in favor of your next overstuffing. It'll feel so good you'll change every fibre of your being as it softens you up from the inside out.

Then watching her sex drive change, witnessing her become a total slave to the bloat, reaching a point where she can’t even feel a spark of arousal unless her stomach is uncomfortably stuffed and groaning under the weight of a massive binge. Slowly feeding her to a level of corruption where the sensation of her own heavy, doughy rolls rubbing together is a 24/7 reminder of the lifestyle she chose that will never let her leave. I’d love sitting her down just to force her to admit what we both know is true. That she’s past the point of no return, and she’s starting to associate the feeling of being too full to breathe with the peak of her own pleasure, turning her body’s distress into a lust-soaked, addictive kink. That she’s learned to find a twisted sort of pride in her own physical uselessness, both of us getting off on the fact that she’s becoming a pet that needs to be serviced, cleaned, and stuffed by someone else because she’s eaten her way out of the ability to care for herself.

This may be surprising too, but what’s even hotter than the sexual and behavioral rewiring would be the way her basic social instincts start rotting away, replaced by a primal, animalistic focus on her next meal and her own obesity. Watching her look at other people, almost begging them to judge her, to stare at her flabby body, because they still have to worry about their appearance while she’s been given permission to just be a soft, expanding pile of lard. Biting her lip while they snicker and whisper because nothing makes her feel the full weight of her choices like public shaming…. But even then she’ll slowly lose the ability to feel shame, smothering it with calories, replacing it with a heavy, sedentary gluttony that makes her want to sink deeper into the cushions and never get back up. Until she’s so dependent and so blissfully docile that she’d happily trade her voice just for the guarantee that the funnel will never run dry. Watching her mind melt until she’s graduated from the girl who got fat, to the girl who was erased by her own greed.

Yes, I will be so incredibly evil and I won't be able to help myself around someone this utterly delectable. How I crave to catch her eating me out of house and home collecting all those calories in a housebound homebody.

I need her so obese it's obscene, I need her eating so much it scares the both of us. I need her putting the heavy in heavenly with her ample angel wings, I need her the center of attention in every room purely based on absolute size.

I need everyone in our lives to be shocked not exactly because of how massive you are, but because they cannot deny how beautiful and radiant you are being properly looked after.

Need to make you absolutely addicted to stimulation and pleasure. If you aren't stuffed you're high, and if you aren't high you're getting off. But soon all the feelings start to become more comfortable, almost boring, and you need to have more at once. I'll be happy to help, keeping you high at all times while I stuff you so full you're about to pop. All the while you're desperately touching yourself, trying to finish before you're too overwhelmed by everything else to keep going.