I Want You Fat

but it’s okay. it’s not your fault. 

you’re a pig. pigs are meant to grow. pigs are meant to eat their fill and put on weight. pigs are meant to waddle. pigs are meant to care only about food and the feeling of eating. pigs are meant to be fed well and often, until they’re round and slow. 

It's not enough to be fat, I want to see the addict brain. It needs to be an ugly decline. I should know that leaving any food within arm's reach will be eaten, even if the craving isn't there, even if the desire isn't there.

That first adjustment to living with a feeder is rough. Yes it's heaven to be treated well, to not be bothered by any responsibility. The food though. You never ate so much than you did in the first week. Discomfort. Forceful. Laboring on those final bites of a portion multiple times a day.

It fucks you up. You could go well into the next day without even thinking of food. But it's brought early and often. The first sweet and savory morsels trigger you. If you don't have food, you can be fine. If you have food... you can't stop until it runs out, or until you shut down.

How bad does one year of gaining like this hit?

Pleas of needing to slow down, admitting that unless I play along... you'll never find the part of you that can slow down. Anxious, panicked eating. Knowing it's getting BAD. Realizing the reality of being bedridden isn't a fantasy... it happens to people like you. The ones who get accustomed to 3000 calories a day, then 4000, 5000. Never finding a routine where you aren't adjusting to more snacks and meals.

Days become routine. Addicts crave it. Funnels and shakes on Monday. Entire cakes on Tuesday. An entire batch of cookies for Wednesday. Then you start craving the funnel on Thursday again.

The second year puts you in way too deep.

It never became enough. It's embarrassing to have become so trapped in the cycle, but the thought of giving it up is horrifying. Eating quiets the voices. You don't move enough to notice the added weight. You're a shut in. Anything challenging is removed.

It's insanity to process how much food you eat. How much is forced into you when you are already at the point of exhaustion. Becoming accustomed to waking at 4am with something soft and sweet being pushed past your lips. It fucks with your sleep, but food helps you feel drowsy again anyway.

Crying when you break the couch. Unable to get up. Pleading for a break when I situate you in bed next to a plate of desserts. Watching as your eyes glaze over once I prod you to eat. You shut off. Grunting, wheezing as you start plucking food off the tray one piece at a time. Your bed is the only place in the home that can hold your weight. Your own home has become inaccessible.

Think about that. You don't have the will power to stop yourself from becoming too fat to care for yourself. You are closer to those horror stories you see on TV, or read online, than you realize. "They were too big to leave their home. Stuck in bed all day long."

It doesn't feel so sinister at the start. Being 200, 300, even 400lbs. Sure, you have food brought to you. Chores are being handled. Bills are paid. The occasional day happens where you feel like a bottomless pit. Eating close to 10,000 calories during an all day binge, on a whim.

Those are not the habits of someone who envisions being able to walk in a few years. In fact, that's a type of day that might even exceed what many folks who are bedbound typically do.

But it's innocent, because you aren't bedbound, right? It's a fun game. How far do you let this go before you come to grip with reality.

Too food motivated to turn down anything brought to you. A meal that starts feeling laborious doesn't matter. You are hooked on the sensation of eating. Conditioned to finish everything in front of you.

You don't bother thinking about how much activity was taken from you by being enabled. Steps dropping from the thousands into the hundreds. You can't remember the last time you consciously stood for any period of time. You're only upright when taking those precious few steps.

Changes, accommodations, they are in the name of comfort. There's no worry. You have food. Your partner kisses you. You feel safe.

You go from bathing standing up, to sitting in a shower chair, to needing extra hands to keep yourself from tiring. It feels like a relief when the offer comes to wash you down in bed. Instead of getting out of bed, shuffling to the shower, shuffling back to bed, and being repositioned again (each action bringing you to exhaustion), you can basically lay still. Bond with your partner.

Sleeping evolves in its own way. You need to be elevated. A CPAP is prescribed. Food comas during the day make you restless at night. You lazily tap your partner in those odd hours. You're awake. You need food to doze off again. Never mind that your bed was upgraded to a automatic, reclining bed. A warning sign of being so weak is brushed over.

Your final moments of independence slip away just as easily. At some point, you're pushed into a routine to keep yourself from developing bed sores. Every few hours, you need to be told to turn. You need help. Your legs are too heavy to move on their own. Your waist is too wide for you to build momentum to turn. Your chest keeps you pinned against your pillows. You need help turning, rolling in bed.

Don’t you want that? Aren’t you positively dying for it?

What are you waiting for?

You love rolling over with a groan in bed and grabbing the box of doughnuts that is already there. Your eyes roll back and your cheeks bunch up over your eyes. That's happiness.

You love me shaking your flab as I give you a third helping of breakfast, that's what those moans mean, right? You're in bliss.

You love it when your heart pounds as you attempt to walk and I rush over with your 18" pizzas and ease you back into the bed. I see the speed at which you snatch those boxes from me and cram the cheese laden food down your throat as if it were just a quick snack.

Every pound making the scale creep closer and closer to an even bigger number but once you hit that 500lbs mark, at that point you're absolutely massive.

Your friends and family would whisper their doubts about me, saying that you’ve gained so much weight since you met me as they watch me from across the room handing you yet another plate of food.

Your coworkers would stare at you in disbelief and gossip as they watch you walk in even fatter than last week, with your clothes fitting you less and less appropriately as you take out another donut to eat from the bag I sent you off with.

The staff at your favorite fast food places would start to recognize you and listen in shock as I add even more food onto your order than last time, running off to snicker to their coworkers about how that one customer looks even fatter every time they see you in the drive through.

I want to watch you struggle one day to pull your jeans over your fattening ass and thighs and then try again and again in vain to button them, and then look up at me with a face that says, “look what you did to me 🥺” And I wouldn’t be able to keep a smile from spreading across my face. You don’t know just how much I love that I’ve done this to you.

She teased him, by leaning seductively over the table to clean up the many empty dishes. This used to be one of many ways she would get him worked up enough to ravage her the way she liked, but these days, he was ravaging much more than his own waistline. He used to be so loving, yet so dominant, just the way she liked. He would gladly use his growing weight to his advantage to get her worked up, whether it was pinning her against a wall with his belly, or squashing her beneath him while he gorged on a meal she made. His favorite was bending her over the table after a hearty meal, and ramming into her so forcefully it h would cause belches to bellow out of him. That time seemed so long ago now.

“Just give….me…a minute….” He wheezed out, wiping sweat from his brow.

It took most of his effort to just walk from the bed to the kitchen these days, as his belly swayed heavily against his knees as he waddled. It had been years since he could reach himself down there, and now had to rely on her to enter her when he had the energy to attempt such an exercise.

“You sure? Can you even get up on your own?” She looked back at him, biting her lip. She slowly lowered her ample rear backwards onto his swollen gut, bouncing into him a bit. Belches escaped his lips every time she bounced back into him.

“Will…you..stop! Remember…who’s ….in charge….here…” he was still trying to assert dominance the way she used to love, but even he realized his limitations.

“Oh?” She turned around and leaned forward toward him sensually. She placed her arms on his gut for leverage, putting more pressure on his poor, stressed out ball of dough. She leaned forward as if to kiss him, but stopped close enough to stare him in the eyes. She flashed a playful smile, “are you sure you’re still in charge? I remember when you used to bend me over this table, plop your belly on my back, and fuck me til I saw Heaven. But that was a few pounds ago, wasn’t it tubby?” She pinched his belly and bounced on it a little. “I remember when you would make me straddle your thigh and feed you for hours, edging me along the whole time, now though? I can’t even see your thighs when you sit anymore. Looks to me like you let your appetite get a little out of hand. Maybe, I should be the one in charge now?” She kissed him on the lips and left him speechless. He knew he was in no position to argue.

“I’ll tell you what piggy, I have a cake cooling on the counter. You eat it all up for me like a good piggy, and I’ll let you cum…maybe,” she winked before walking behind him toward the counter. He was full beyond even what he thought possible, but he also felt himself get rock hard under all his flab. He hadn’t seen this side of her before, and had to admit, he was incredibly turned on.

She soon returned with a sheet cake, and a carton of heavy cream. She side eyed him and winked as she poured the entire carton all onto the cake, letting the moist cake soak up all the fatty cream. He couldn’t help but drool a bit as she brought a large forkful to him.

“Open wide tubby, this is the first night of a new life for you,” she made sure to rest her body on him as she forced the whole forkful into his mouth. “Hope you’re ready for this baby, because you’re still awfully skinny to me.” She kissed him on the lips after he swallowed the bite, before quickly bringing another bite to his lips.

I never say this to pigs but you’re right. You don’t deserve her and she doesn’t deserve a slobby, weak, desperate fat fucking pig as her lover.

Feel yourself grow out of every and any piece of clothing you have.

Gorge into all those delicious treats you love so much.

Keep on going till there's no other option, till the point you don't have any doubt in your mind.