who doesn't love a fluffy sheep?

Leon’s a softy ♡

➜ ꗃ tags: dumbification, (implied) intox/dr_gging, gaslighting, humiliation, exhibitionism

You're a streamer, mainly being famous for your body. You were naturally gifted with good assets, managing to maintain your figure by simply going to the gym once or twice a week with friends. It was a routine you gradually had to put on hold since when your friends went to the gym, you were too busy streaming.

It adds up after a little. You see signs of it and figure you need to head back to the gym. Your roommate, however, seems insistent that it's all gone to the right places either way. Comparatively, there's always been a slight heft to your chest, but now there's a bit more to be toyed with. It's an undeniably good asset in your line of work.

You figure a few more weeks is fine, until you start getting comments on it. A mixed review. Some are calling it hot or cute, others are saying you need to get yourself back on a treadmill. You've received questions about, some even asking what your workout routine is - to which you've bluntly lied about with your roommate in hearing distance. Some people give you some tips, to which you decide to discuss with your roommate. It's a safe space between you two.

Your roommate reassures you that it's still nothing much. Perhaps a change of diet would be easier, even. You figure it wouldn't hurt. Your roommate recommends a lot to you, ranging from 'low calorie' snacks to questionable beverages that taste way too addicting to be good for you. But they are really nice. Now it's in your diet, it's hard to stop.

It gets to the point where clothes feel tighter now. There's certainly a softness to your belly and a fairly noticeable jiggle in more than just your thighs. You still haven't gone to the gym and the comments just keep coming. It's frustrating. You promised yourself you'd go to the gym weeks ago and suddenly a month has passed with nothing changing except an extra 10-15 pounds.

You speak with your roommate again. They hand you another one of those suspiciously delicious drinks. Apparently, they help. You don't exactly question it. You have no reason to.

Your roommate insists it'll take a few trips to the gym to get rid of it and somehow, it's believable. It really isn't that much weight. It's something you could work off by being a bit more active, but you haven't exactly done that in a while. You're used to getting paid for simply existing in front of a camera. You don't exactly want to stop that. You need to keep your online presence.

But you really do need to keep your figure. A few trips to the gym is all you need.

On the day you wake up to go, you feel sluggish. You don't question it. Today isn't the day and you figure you'll go tomorrow. Then the next day, the same happens. Then again.

And again.

You don't exactly feel ill. You just feel heavy.

You wake up hungry most days. You've forgotten what waiting until breakfast feels like. Your roommate is more than supportive with your diet, offering you a supposedly healthy breakfast each morning. Yet you nap after each one.

Apparently it's supposed to happen. It just means your body is working on burning calories even more. Your roommate reads articles to you about it, the kind you simply can't be bothered to read through. It's too time consuming for someone like you and overtime you realise you'd rather not have to think about these things. It's easier to be told.

However, despite all the advice and help, it doesn't help. You're getting more comments each day by irritated viewers, others are in shock at how much you've let yourself go. You're still adamant to keep up your reputation, insistent that you're very active when it's far from the truth.

Even your roommate insists these things when you're talking one on one. You do plenty of walking around the apartment.

Your washer seems to suddenly be the worst washer to exist. Everything seems to be smaller now.

You noticed a tag on one of your clothes, three sizes up from what you're familiar with. Your roommate blamed it on the brand. Clothing sizes aren't consistent and you can't help but agree.

The obvious is practically in your face each day. You see yourself in your webcam whenever you stream, live for thousands to see. Your body is a lot wider now, with hips filling up the seat that complains whenever you position yourself. Your arms sit on either side of you now, hugged against each tit that's hoisted up in a dangerously tight bra. Your shirt seems tighter than ever, mainly because you can't let go of the idea that you've gained weight and if you just so happen to think so, you're quick enough to believe a few trips to the gym is all you need.

All of this is reinforced by your roommate, the one you've been completely trusting in so far. There's no reason to be suspicious. Your roommate almost seems to mourn your body in a similar way to you, commenting on how you used to be in such a good shape. It's such a shame. It's so weird that you've suddenly gained weight.

It crosses your mind occasionally, typically during the early morning or late night - you wonder how you gained weight. You've been perfectly active. You've eaten the right things. Surely.

Unless your roommate is secretly fattening you up.

You mention it once in the kitchen. You're sat on a stool, legs fully spread as you're struggling to pull your pyjama bottoms up over your belly. It's the third time they've rolled down this morning.

Your roommate takes slight offence, handing you one of your favourite drinks as if to sweeten you up. It does. Almost a little too well. You forget about covering yourself for a moment, letting your belly sit between your open thighs and hang out of your shirt.

It was best not to upset your roommate. After all, they'd been the only one to try and help you. It was too humiliating to call old friends and admit you needed help losing weight. It was never something you struggled with before.

Sometimes, the memory fades. You're used to it now.

Your roommate makes you feel like you did before. Skinny.

You have a stream scheduled soon. You two walk and talk. You complain about how bloated you feel and how much weight you think you've gained, but you're reassured it's nothing. It's mostly gone to your tits anyway. After all, it's a good asset to have.

When you're sat in your seat, you're given a prep talk. You're encouraged to do your signature bounce and you do. You'll do anything for attention. Your body seems to move with you as you raise your shirt and move a little in an attempt to jiggle your tits. The rest of you moves far more than intended, your breasts tightly packed into an ill fitting lacey bralette. Your chest practically pools over the cups and the band cuts into your back, accentuating the extra fat there. It's something you can't see, but even if you did, you'd be persuaded otherwise.

As the stream starts, you gradually become more aware again. It becomes impossible to hide your belly with the way your waistband rolls down and the struggle to pull it back up takes more than a mere two-three minutes. You take a break, sipping the same drink you've grown addicted to and feeling sated suddenly.

You're still bloated, unable hide it with the way you're leaning back. You don't even notice how fat you look right now, which is astonishing. Each time a comment comes in, you remain in denial. Whilst pulling down your shirt, you claim you haven't gained weight. As your hands rest over your belly, you claim you're not fat.

You decide to start up a game. Maybe that will ease the chat for today.

Unfortunately, you don't do well. You keep losing. You take breaks again, even like this. You sip at the same drink game after game before realising you're hungry again. You seem to have lost self awareness.

You shuffle a few times, hoisting yourself up with a belly fully on show to the camera. The waddle off, interrupted quickly by your roommate who seems to note quickly what you've moved from your chair for. They'll prepare a snack for you.

You make your way back slowly, once again taking the opportunity to pull your pyjama bottoms over your lower belly with struggle. You've forgotten you're being watched, yet when you realise, you somehow brush it off. You feel far too dumb to care.

As you wait, you lean back again, the chair being loud enough for most microphones to pick up. With each movement, the chair seems to whine and click. The sound used to be noticeable, but now it blends in for you. It only feels noticeable when pointed out.

You read the chat occasionally, although you're far too focused on yourself right now. You can help but look at yourself. You can't help but thibj about how fat you've gotten. Are you fat? Maybe you're just bloated. Even if you are, is it really that much? You can't remember if you were much skinnier than this. It's probably just that poor excuse of a washer.

As time passes, you have more time to realise. You really have gotten fat. You notice how much you've filled up the chair, the way it's hardly even seen in the recording now. Your chin has lost all definition now too. Your face fits the rest of you, incredibly softened up and pudgy. It's beyond recognition. You can't help but realise how much of a struggle it is to move around and suddenly, you're back to trying to shove your shirt back down again. You can't believe how much space your belly takes up now. You can't even see your own belly button, let alone your thighs. You wouldn't even know how much of your belly was exposed if you didn't have your own reflection right in front of you, recording.

It doesn't take long for your roommate to join in, placing possibly the biggest plate of snacks down in front of you for everyone to see.

You're pretty frustrated. You have an image you're trying to keep here, whatever it is. You've been actively lying on every stream, talking about how good you are at dieting. Which you are, of course. So why do you feel so embarrassed?

You make a remark about how this is far too much and your roommate sings in laughter, calling you out for everyone to hear.

that's your average snack

That definitely is not your average snack.

At least, it shouldn't be.

Your roommate seems to join in now, commenting far too vocally about your habits. You eat far too often, always eating the wrong things, being too far in denial, refusing to go to the gym- It's everything you've been lying about and your roommate seemingly intends to make a mockery out of it.

You attempt to justify yourself, calling your roommate out for all the things they've said- everything between the comments on how normal your habits were, how active you are and essentially all the obvious lies you believed because you craved denial.

It doesn't just stop there. Your roommate retorts, making a point by grabbing your belly and shaking it. There's a shiver of conflicting humiliation that runs through you. It ruins you.

Your roommate somehow attempts to comfort you, suddenly going back to the person you know and telling you that only a few trips to the gym would fix it. You're stubborn about it now though. It's hard to believe when you've just been publicly outed to thousands.

But then you're offered that same drink again and, as much as you'd love to show resistance, especially where it mattered, you can't. You take the drink, unable to help yourself from drinking the whole thing and sitting there. You suddenly feel far heavier than before.

Your roommate makes another comment about how you just can't stop yourself and despite all rational thought begging you to defend yourself, you don't. There's not exactly much to think about. You simply sit there for everyone to see, filled out and a complete mess.

You're told to eat something by your roommate and you don't even question it. You wiggle yourself to sit upwards with a groan, reaching out to grab a few cookies and start eating. Your roommate addresses the camera again, remarking how bizarre it is that you've let yourself go so carelessly.

You let your roommate talk as you eat, listening to what they're saying about you. There's a lot to be said, after all. You've been lying through your teeth for months. You don't have the energy in you to defend yourself anymore and as time goes on, you just start accepting it. You can't even remember what's the truth anymore.

Your roommate remarks how pet-like you are while playing with your body. They talk about how easy you are, making a point by lifting up your shirt and the fact that you don't fight back. There's no energy for it now.

You feel rounded out. Full. Practically exhausted and yet you've done nothing. All you can do is sit there, get played with and be viewed. You're known for your body still, but in far different ways. You've known for how fat you've gotten, how remarkably in denial you can be and how swiftly you can change on the whole. Perhaps it's something you can get used to, or perhaps you don't even have a choice.