In feeling a little full…its not that noticeable, rightt?? 🥺😫

In the beginning it feels like no matter what you eat, you simply can’t gain weight.

Then you start slowly packing on your first 10 pounds. - But you feel secure because you know you’re not that far away from your starting weight and could quickly lose weight.

But then once you pass that first 15 pounds it’s like your metabolism reprograms itself to keep you fat.

Once you pass that stage, your weight just spirals out of control and you find yourself helplessly getting fatter every week.

Suddenly the tables have turned on you.

Suddenly you’re weighing in 5 pounds heavier every time you check the scale, even when you’re not even trying to gain anymore.

When you were a new feedee, you used to have to work hard to gain any weight - and you used to feel so excited when you saw the number on the scales go up.

Now even when you try to maintain weight you still end up weighing in 5 pounds heavier every time - now it shocks you as you start to realise that this weight loss thing is actually so hard

Now you’re fat and you can’t even maintain weight never mind lose weight.

Your weight is spiralling out of control. You keep somehow keep getting fatter without trying. Your bloated belly has become your empty belly. Your confident walk has become a slow, tiring waddle. You feel cool air against your sensitive belly fat as your favourite cute shirt has now started to ride up. Revealing that soft, squishy fat.

WAIT I FOUND IT! (And yeah maybe if theres enough demand or it)

Good bimbos gain weight and get round jiggly thighs that master can grab

Good bimbos gain weight, they get soft and squishy so they can take more spanking

Good bimbos gain weight so their ass gets bigger

Good bimbos gain weight so their body is primed for use

Good bimbos gain weight so they look pretty

Feeding you to a level of dependency on food and my touch that makes you second guess every choice you’ve ever made on your own until your mind is as soft and useless as your thighs.

Stuffing you until you’re genuinely worried before every big meal, still desperately clinging to some pathetic shred of dignity and embarrassment. I want you to sit there and lie to yourself that you can still turn things around, that you can lose the weight and regain your self control, or carve out some kind of independence when you’ve already been so completely enslaved by your own appetite and fat smothered lust.

Constantly edging you on the breaking point just so I can melt any hope you had of going back like the butter on the fourth stack of pancakes I’m cramming into your mouth for breakfast.

Faking concern for you just so you keep a level of panicked awareness with every added pound and every new roll because we both know it just makes it so much better when I switch to force feeding, teasing, and completely controlling your calorie intake like you’re prey meant to be fattened (you are).

Watching you get shamefully turned on by that sickening, heavy lurch in your gut when you start realizing you aren't a girl anymore… just a project, a growing pile of lard that I’m sculpting into a flabby statue of greed. Knowing that I’m feeding you into an object that only exists to swallow and expand, and the more you panic about your size, the more I push you deeper, leaking and begging for the next bite so you can quiet that little voice of reason in the back of your head and just sink into the bliss of endless eating.

It would all be worth it just to see the moment you realize you’ve finally lost the war against your own cravings and that you’ve become a pathetic, bloated prisoner in a body that’s too heavy to escape. The sheer weight of your own failure pressing down on your lungs while I whisper that you were never meant to be anything but my mindless, overfed prize. That you’re going to stay in this state of perpetual, greasy ruin because you’ve learned to love the way the degradation and dependency feels even more than you love the food.

Finally accepting that every time you think you’ve hit your limit, I’m going to be there to shove you past it, reminding you that your only job is to stay docile, stay soft, and stay hungry for the very thing that’s destroying you.

Helpless against staying so constantly wet and overfilled that you’re practically begging for the next thousand calories just to feel the pressure in your belly distract you from the shame of what I’m doing to you.

Then I’ll shrink your clothes in the wash, just a little at a time, so you don’t notice right away, and when you finally complain that nothing fits anymore I’ll cut the tags off too and tell you with the straightest face that those were the largest size they carry… that you’ve officially outgrown the biggest options out there, and I’ll watch that panic flicker across your face before it gets swallowed up by a familiar resignation. You’ll suck in your gut and tug at those too tight seams and I’ll just shrug and point at the family sized takeout meal getting cold on the table saying you can worry about your wardrobe later, right now your food is waiting and that’s way more important than some dumb clothes you were never going to fit into again anyway. You’ll feel bad slowly waddling to the table, but we’ll both know it’s what you want~

I’ll take you on the most stair heavy routes everywhere we go, not the elevator, not the escalator, but the long winding flights that make your thighs burn and your lungs wheeze and your whole body tremble with the effort of carrying all that jiggling fat up just one more step. I’ll watch you stop halfway, bent over, huffing and sweating, and I’ll ask you if you remember when stairs were nothing to you, if you remember when you didn’t sound like you just ran a marathon trying to get to the second floor. You’ll hate it obviously, but you also feel that dark thrill of slowing down, of pleasure winning and consuming you, of obesity swallowing you like nothing else was an option…. until that proof of just how far you’ve fallen is enough to get you off, and you’ll keep opening your mouth even though it makes the climbing all the harder because what else is such a good piggy supposed to do?

Then I’ll seal your fate with the stuffings, the real moments of pure corruption where you’ll see your last chances of turning back dissolving bite by bite, plate after plate in front of you, rich and greasy and creamy, and I’ll keep filling your mouth long after you’re full, after you’re groaning, after your belly is so tight and swollen that you can barely breathe. And when you’re lying there, defeated and stuffed beyond reason, I’ll lean in close and whisper that only a completely hopeless piggy could cram all that inside their bloated belly, that you’re clearly meant to be a blob, that no thoughts beyond “more” hold any weight anymore. I’ll tell you that your mobility is shrinking right along with your willpower, that every bite you take makes you greedier and softer and more helpless, and that you love it, that you need it, that you would rather be this overfed mess than ever go back to being small and unsatisfied thanks to ‘self-control’, a word I’ll make you un-learn the meaning of~

You’ve submitted to me, and you’ve gotten fat. Just because i told you to. This is your reward. 

I’ll tease you about you fat you’ve grown. I’ll find those words that really get you. I’ll make tears start to slightly form. Then just as those tears are forming. I’ll pull out your favourite comfort food and make you excited as you eat your feelings. 

Cute fatty. What a storm of emotions… 

I love noticing your new flabby belly hang poking out of your shirt 😏

You’re still slow at noticing because you were always skinny so you just never had to deal with your shirts riding up, letting your lil fat belly poke out… 

It’s cute seeing you obliviously walking in public not knowing that everyone can see that pudgy sliver of belly poking out of your shirt.

You notice eventually of course, your face looks so cute and shocked, your chubby cheeks blushing. Realising that you’re literally THAT GIRL with your fat belly showing in public 😳

Those first 15 pounds were a struggle. You felt proud once you reached that milestone. You decided to stop gaining and enjoy your new fluffy figure. 

But then something strange happened you… Even though you’d stopped intentionally gaining, The number of scales actually kept creeping up on you. You kept putting on weight. That tight, thicc chubby belly gradually became doughy, jiggly gut. 

How cute, you just didn’t realise how fast this weight gain stuff can spiral out of control. You didn’t even realise that you’d developed a fat girl metabolism. For the first time in your life you were actually having a little weight gain problem. The pounds kept creeping up. You went from chubby to fat. Suddenly those BBWs in your feed don’t look that fat anymore. Suddenly new cute chubby starter feedees are appearing in your feed looking at YOU thinking they’d never get as fat as you.