Being able to walk is a privilege you don't deserve. It's too much independence, it's just not okay. You're supposed to be a fat blob, pinned in place, unable to do more than a bit of wobbling left and right. I need you to be out of breath at all times, from that layer of lard pressing down on your longues. I need that layer to be wider than my hips. No matter how deep I try pushing my fingers into that blubber, I should never be able to find a single rib underneath. If I did, you need to get fatter. Our contrast would be morbid, comical, sick. Me being lighter than one of your arms, your ankle having a bigger circumference than my waist. I'll make sure your heart gets some exercise, as it tries to pump your thick blood through your body while I physically exhaust you by just grinding on your monstrous thigh. I need you to get so fat that at some point your tits get so fat, they sag into your face so you have move your head to still get some air. But every day, they'll just keep getting fatter. It's as if the water keeps rising and you know you'll drown. But that's part of the thrill for me. <3
