βYouβll let me know when Iβm getting too fat though, wonβt you?β
I ask, prodding the newly formed pudge around my midsection.
βOf course, of course. I love that youβre gaining weight for me but Iβll help you put the breaks on before things get too out of hand. Iβd just love to see you a little chubby is all. More to grab.β
How could I say no to that? Getting to eat more without worrying while youβre becoming even more attracted to me? Sure Iβm not a huge fan of the little outline my belly is forming in my shirts, but itβs not like Iβm fat or out of shape or anything. Nothing to worry about.
βBreakfasts is served!β
I come to groggily, awakening to the sweet scent of your cooking coming through the door. Breakfast in bed was quickly one of my favourite parts of letting go for you, but even still it was becoming a little much. It was perfect when you were bringing bacon eggs and pancakes, but now with the waffles on top Iβm stuffed every single morning. Even more concerning are the βmilkshakesβ. Theyβre delicious but theyβre the thickest milkshakes Iβve ever had.
Not that you mind, clearly. Youβve been ecstatic with how much weight Iβve put on. We still donβt have a scale so I canβt even tell but none of my clothes fit anymore, not even the stretchy ones, so I think itβs nearing time to slow down. I can barely see my feet anymore with how far my belly sticks out.
And I donβt mind the teasing, I know itβs part of what gets you off about this whole thing, but buying me a bra for my βnew pair of titsβ went a little beyond playful ribbing. Itβs starting to get hurtful now, especially since this was all your idea.
We finally got a scale. I canβt believe you. How could you let this go so far? 107lbs I put on, all because of you and your pampering and your begging.
βPlease baby, just a few moreβ
βI know these are your favourites baby, what harm can they doβ
And now I donβt even get the luxury of those niceties. I guess you figure Iβm not going to turn back anymore? That Iβm too far gone? So now you can get off however you want.
The first time you called me your βpiggyβ, I was taken aback, but I thought youβd cut it out when I told you to stop. But the humiliation makes it all the better for you doesnβt it?
Grabbing my rolls and shaking them to watch my whole body jiggle. Calling me βlard ballβ when Iβm struggling to roll myself out of bed. Slapping my βbehemothβ ass whenever you force me to waddle for my own food so I can stuff myself to satisfy the massive appetite you nurtured for me.
So this is where it stops, the gaining, the humiliation, all of it.
What are you doing with that funnel?
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