acolyte of adephagia

That someone certainly obsesses over your next well balanced meal and odds are you've grown far too heavy to ever procure it for yourself. Whatever circumstances led you to be wherever in the current moment are because someone likes the fact that your belly most obviously gets in the way of every decision you make. The way your eyes light up at the mere mention of food is a dead giveaway at what motivates you.

Here's the thing though, you look fabulous being kept on your big fat butt all the time. Your smile causing a cascade of rolls and folds down from your cutest as can be chubby cheeks, all the way to the rest of what's left of your nourished neck are signs you were meant for this. I can't think of anyone else as worthy of a custom made throne as you. I want to make it so difficult for you to style your obnoxiously softened stature, that every piece in your wardrobe demands custom sizing. Have me spoil you to the point where our furniture has to be just as thoughtfully made as the foundation of our house. Force me to move you into a single story home because otherwise you'd spend days avoiding the stairs entirely. Keep opening your mouth so you can spill further and further off the bed knowing full well you can blame me for what's happening to your waistline.

Don't you know how much I love seeing you happy? I mean, you know how long you've deserved this, right? I'm going to make every last second count! I can't wait to see how entitled you grow, when you finally become such a big fat brat it's unavoidable anymore. When you no longer have any sort of patience because you've been bred to be an absolute princess, and nothing less. Of course that means a majority of people don't recognize you after a few hundred pounds of growth. Even if it wasn't because you're buried in years of cute flabby coerced gluttony, your personality would be a dead give away anyway.

So used to getting everything that you could ever want, you know exactly what buttons to push to make your doughy daydreams come true. How you've grown to look odd lifting a finger, as if everyone else was meant to cave in and rush to take over taking care of you. You've mastered the art of feigning helplessness that it's softened you to the very core. I can't expect you to do much other than look after your growing belly anymore and I don't want that to change. It sure is selfish of me...

To want to see you so stuck in the throes of greed, you can sooner reach for another bite than reach over your belly to pleasure yourself. How quickly you lose your breath trying to move in any capacity, switching sooner to whines to get across what it is you want. To know full well everyone who sees your immense near immobile body always presumes it was you who ate yourself to being over a quarter ton and not me, your doting dutiful wife.

Never in a million years would they guess you were just a lucky doll hand picked and pleasured to be the huge plushy you are today. A greed manifested and manipulated to the point where it's all consuming of the fibers of your very being, at the behest of my direction. That there were so many times where you wanted to slow down and not in the sense of a lumbering waddling speed. I find it cute how we've reached the point where I could bring you every last bite at a buffet, ensure you've eaten until you beg me to stop, and still find out everyone thinks you're the greedy one here.