⚠️ It gets pretty horny at the end, so just a heads up 💜

TRANSCRIPT:

Babe? I got your message. Are you alright? Where are you—oh…[chuckling] Ohhh my god. What happened? Are you actually stuck like that? Damn, I knew you were filling out lately, but even I didn't realize that you'd gotten too wide for the pantry. That's just impressive. Very impressive. Fuck, if I'd known this would’ve happened, I would have set up a little camera in there. Watching you squeeze yourself in, reaching for your “snack”—which, let’s be honest, we both know is an entire box of those snack cakes that you can’t quite reach—and then seeing the look on your face when you realized that your hips were firmly wedged in the doorway? Mmm…

I know—you need my help getting unstuck. And I will. But baby…come on. It's not every day a feeder gets to enjoy the consequences of his piggy’s excessive indulgence like this. I want to savor every bit of it before we get you out of there and plopped back down on the couch where you belong. Which leads to my next question: What were you doing here in the first place? Let me guess—your insatiable appetite was so demanding that you couldn’t wait the twenty minutes it would’ve taken me to get home with your next snack haul. So, you heaved yourself up, waddled to the pantry, and tried like hell to get your chubby hands for those calorie-laden treats. You felt your hips pressing against either side of the door frame as you reached in, ignoring the tight squeeze, and kept going like your life depended on it.

That’s what I thought. Greedy girl…this behavior is exactly why you’re in this position, you realize. Not that I’m blaming you, sweet pet. Not at all. After all, I’m the one who spoiled you to this point. Your massive size, your immense appetite—I can take the blame for this one, okay? I knew this little walk-in pantry would be too small for you to fit into eventually. I just thought it would be hot for you to reach that point and admit that you needed me to fetch all of your snacks from now on. I did not expect that my stubborn little piggy would try so hard to get in there on her own and manage to get herself stuck in the process.

Mmm…but now that we’re here…now that I see you in such a compromising position…with your plush, widened hips situated so firmly in place… It’d be a shame not to take full advantage of this situation you’ve gotten yourself into, wouldn’t it?

[belt coming undone]

And who knows? Maybe the force of me thrusting into you will get your body to wobble free…and then we can stuff you to the brim with all those snack cakes you wanted so desperately, hm? As a reward for getting this fucking huge for me… 

--- Teasing & Encouragement ---

TRANSCRIPT:

Baby…? What are you doing in here? It’s past midnight—

Oh, baby…again? I fall asleep for like twenty minutes and you’re already raiding the fridge like some chubby little gremlin? You thought you’d be so sneaky, coming down here, padding around barefoot, trying not to wake me up. No such luck, piglet. I caught you red-handed—literally. Is that the last of the strawberry pie you’re shoveling into your mouth? Two pieces after dinner wasn’t enough, huh?

It’s okay—don’t worry about trying to talk with your mouth full. Finish it. All of it. I’ll wait. 

God, you’re cute when you look all guilty. I mean, I knew you were greedy, but this? This is impressive, even for you. Your belly spilling out from under your shirt. Your chubby hands all coated in crumbs and pie filling, your cheeks are all puffed out, you look like an overstuffed deer in headlights, honestly. It’s adorable. Pathetic—but adorable.

I’m curious—what were you going to do if I hadn’t caught you? Were you planning on only eating a few things to sate a craving and coming back to bed? Or would you have just kept eating until the fridge was empty and you passed out on the floor from fullness? You know, I think you like getting caught. You’re not exactly subtle about it. Not that I really expect you to be. Subtlety isn’t really your strong suit these days, the way the floorboards creak under your weight. Not to mention how heavily you pant and heave for breath after only waddling a few steps between rooms. 

I’m not mad though. Not really. I know I might tease you a little, but at the end of the day, I like you this way. I like you sneaking off, belly already heavy from dinner and dessert, just to get a few extra helpings. No impulse control. And I know that all of these late night binges are really going to cause you to fill out like crazy. Gives me more to play with, right? 

Now come here. Let me feel how full you are.

TRANSCRIPT:

Mmmm, baby. I can’t believe how much you ate for me tonight. You’ve been so good lately. So perfectly overfed…so round and heavy…I don’t think you’re never going to stop getting fatter at this rate. All you do anymore is eat and laze around like it’s your job. And I love it. I can’t even try to keep my hands off of you.

You like that? Feeling my hands caressing all of this softness? Knowing your greatest talent is overeating and getting unrecognizably obese? I know you do. I’ve been tending to you long enough now to know exactly how much you love this. Getting more and more helpless as the weight piles on, needing me to take on all of the responsibilities because I let you be so fucking lazy. You can’t even reach past this mound of a belly to touch yourself anymore. All you can do is spread those massive thighs, wobble your belly, and hope you can get it to rub against your clit just right.

But don’t worry. As fun as that would be to watch, that’s why I’m here. I wouldn’t want you wasting precious calories struggling like that. 

Here—lay back. Let me take care of it. You’ve earned it tonight, princess. 

…Fuck, I can barely get past all this thick blubber burying your pussy. No wonder you can’t do this on your own any more. Not with this gorgeous, heavy gut and these huge thighs that you’ve worked so hard to grow for me. That makes you so wet though, doesn’t it? The way your pussy throbs when I talk about how big and greedy you are…how helpless and domesticated you’ve become. Feel how big and soft you’ve gotten, that you’ve done all of this—giving yourself so completely to me, letting me have total control of not just your weight, but your pleasure too—all so you can hear me call you a good girl while I get you off. 

Ohh…that’s it, baby. That’s my good girl. Think about what a greedy, fat blob you’ve turned yourself into. Think about how much bigger you can still get. How much lazier. How much more dependent on me. I want nothing more. Nothing more than to be here, enabling you, rewarding you, praising you. Every pound gained, every extra inch on your waist glorified. All day, every day. Making you fatter, lazier, and needier until your current size looks tiny in comparison. Just let the pleasure drive you deeper.

Deeper into my touch.

Deeper into this lifestyle.

Deeper into me.

---Heavy Shaming---

TRANSCRIPT:

What the hell were you thinking? Do you even realize how you look right now? I told you this was risky. I told you people would notice a fat fucking hog like you ravaging the buffet. Oh, but you insisted. “No one will care,” you said. “It’s just dinner!” I should have known better the moment I saw your fat ass squeezed into clothes that barely fit you anymore that this would be a debacle.

You really think people couldn’t see how your fat gut was wobbling around? The way your thighs rubbed together as you waddled back and forth for seconds? Then thirds? Then fourths? Panting like you’d just finished a marathon? God, you were so fucking pathetic. Embarrassing, even. 

It was bad enough that you’re already too fucking fat to fit into the booths, but then we had to sit at a table in the middle of everyone. Your chair creaked so loudly the whole time, I thought it might break under your massive bulk. And the way your cheeks flushed when the server asked if you were done? They were probably afraid that you’d never stop if they didn’t say something. Hell, someone had to try. They didn’t even realize that you hadn’t even had dessert yet.

Fuck, what if someone filmed you? I mean, not that I could blame them after the show you were putting on. I bet you’d love to find that video, wouldn’t you? “Shameless fatty loses control in public!” posted all over those fetish sites for everyone to see. All those strangers who would get off on watching you stuff your face and strain the fabric of your clothes as your ceaseless feeding stretched on past all reason. Is it their disgust or their fascination with what a cow you are that makes you so fucking wet?

Oh, don’t even pretend that I don’t know by now. I saw the way you squirmed when that couple walked by and gawked at your swollen gut. The horror on their faces with what you were doing. They had no idea that you wanted those looks. You wanted everyone to watch as you crammed your mouth full of every indulgent thing you could get your pudgy little hands on. They could’ve been right next to you, talking about the human pig who couldn’t stop eating, and you’d just keep shoveling it in.

You loved it. Every second of it.

And now? Now you can barely cope with what you’ve done to yourself. You’re flushed and panting, thighs spread so your bloated stomach has room to stretch, forcing your shirt to roll up under your fat udders. I even had to help you get into the fucking car. Anyone else would be furious with you. They would lecture you, maybe even consider breaking up with you after that shameless display.

But I’m not going to do that. No, for as much of a despicable, degenerate hog as you are, I’m morbidly curious. I want to see how far you’ll actually go. I want to see how frighteningly obese you can get with me enabling you to act like this regularly. 

Look at you…

Every time I see you like this, so full...so heavy... I swear, I lose my breath for a moment. You’ve become practically divine in my eyes. Something truly worthy of worship. Each stretch mark, every roll—they’re all sacred to me. This body you’ve built…it’s glorious in every sense of the word. 

And I get to be the one who tends to it. Who gets to kneel beside you, to feed you, to care for your every need, to devote myself entirely to your comfort and growth—I couldn’t feel luckier. What greater purpose could there be than this?

I had no idea that I could be so captured by something like this. You’ve shown me just how unbelievably erotic it is to indulge your appetite and your hedonism, and doing it feels like the purest form of devotion. 

I worship you. I adore you. Every inch. Every pound. The slightest wobble of your body. You are my goddess of gluttony, so given to this life, and it shows. The way your belly spreads across your lap, how your thighs press together, thick and soft. The way your arms rest at your sides, heavy and plush. Every bit of you demands attention. 

I need to feel you.

I need to feel what my devotion has done to you.

My hands need to sink into all of the softness that you’ve cultivated. I used to be able to grab your hips so easily—guide you where I wanted. But now? Now I press into you and all I feel is how you spill over my fingers. It’s enchanting. Because even as you grow completely beyond my control, I know that I want to be yours. I want to do everything I can to enable you and facilitate your ever-expanding girth.

You have made yourself into something entirely divine, baby. And I’ll treat you that way. I’ll cook for you, I’ll feed you, I’ll wash you, rub you down with lotions and oils like it’s a sacred rite. I’ll praise your appetite, glorify your greed, and bless every pound that joins your body.

You're not just my feedee. You’re my purpose. My worship. My devotion.

Rest now. When you wake up, I’ll be right here, ready to offer myself to you—again and again—until the whole world sees what I already know...

Enjoy!

TRANSCRIPT:

Good morning. I hope you slept well. You looked really peaceful this morning so I decided not to wake you up before I left. These midnight feedings really seem to be helping your sleep, I’ve noticed. Beauty rest has a whole new meaning when you wake up fatter every time, doesn’t it? 

Anyways, I just wanted to leave you this message to let you know that I might be back a little late tonight. But don’t worry, I made sure that you’ll have everything you need for the day. The pantry and the fridge are full of your favorites, baked goods and some joints are on the counter, I pre-packed a few bowls for you too, if that’s what you’re feeling, and of course you have my card on the delivery app for anything else you might want.

I have to admit, the way you’ve been giving yourself to this lifestyle has made it really hard to focus at work lately. When I think about what a perfect, lazy pig you are at home while I earn all the income to enable you…it just drives me crazy, you know that? Nothing else feels as good as enabling you, indulging your wildest fantasies of being a complete hedonist, watching your body fatten up and concede to the excessiveness of it all… It almost makes me want to stay home and tend to you all day. I know I can’t, but….fuck, you have no idea how badly I want to.

I want you to be extra greedy for me today, okay? Don’t deny yourself a single thing. Even if you’re full, eat more. Keep your high going all day and really indulge. I’ll be putting in some deliveries for you throughout the day when I get the chance. And I expect to come home to empty wrappers and containers all over, with your big, pretty belly hanging out of your shirt for me to grab and admire. I’ll have dessert to feed you too, don’t worry. 

I plan on doubling your weight by the end of the year, and I’m going to do everything I can to get you there. There’s no such thing as too big for me, I’ll take care of every need, every desire, even if you get too fat to heft yourself around. All that matters is that you live your best, most pleasurable life, and I’ll handle everything else.

⚠️ It gets a little mean, so... ⚠️

Hope you enjoy! 😇

TRANSCRIPT:

What is it? Is there something you need to tell me? You overate again... Well, I'm not surprised. Is it really overeating if you do it every time you sit down and glut yourself like you’re trying to win some prize? No, it's just the norm for fatasses like you. Shameless, self-indulgent gluttony is just the way it is for you. You should be ashamed. You should be desperately searching for a way to stop yourself. What kind of person shovels food in their face the way you do? What kind of person lets themselves get so obese that they can’t do basic things without getting winded?

I don’t imagine you even have any excuse for what you're doing to yourself. Imagine what you could look like if you weren't so busy gorging yourself with greasy food and carbs every chance you get. It's fucking obscene. And do I really need to bring up your sweets addiction? I swear, at this point, you might as well just have me hook a funnel up to your greedy mouth and pour syrup down your throat. 

Wait…please don’t tell me…do you actually think about that? What, are you just going to eat and eat and eat until you can barely waddle from room to room? Have me stuff you until all that weight that you keep piling on ripples with every lumbering step that you take? Is that what you want, fatty? This huge, heavy-breathing, mound of embarrassing flab that can barely maneuver around your own home? If you keep this shit up, you’ll be there faster than all those DoorDash deliveries you keep getting every fucking day.

At this point, I’m just morbidly curious about what goes on inside your head that justifies letting yourself become so shockingly, grotesquely obese. I mean, look at what a shameless blob you are…rolls stacked on top of each other like pancakes, each one covered in stretch marks, with a hanging gut that takes over your lap, the flab on your arms keeping them pinned to your sides. God, every inch of your body is overflowing with fat. You eat so many goddamn calories, it looks like you're in a near-constant state of stretching and expanding. How can you not notice that your body is screaming at you to stop being such a fucking pig?

Is there even a point in trying to shame you for all of this? You’re obviously not going to change one thing about the way you’re ruining yourself. All you’re going to do, as soon as you can, is find the next thing to stuff your face with. So, what is it going to be this time, tubby? Burgers? Pizza? Few boxes of snack cakes? Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past you to get all three, the way that I’ve seen you eat. You clearly don’t have any self-control, so, fuck it, why not? Just hork down more calories until your body can barely handle it. Stuff your bottomless pit of a stomach every chance that you get. Even after every other sign is telling you to stop. 

⚠️ WARNING: More mean ⚠️

TRANSCRIPT:

Looks like you’re up another five pounds this month. Not terrible progress. [...] What, do you want me to swoon over a measly five pounds? Praise you? Give you a gold star? Pat your belly and shower you with affection? Triple that number next month and maybe you’ll get that kind of attention. 

I’ll give you this: You’re not my worst piggy. But you’re far from the best. You want to impress me? Then you’ve got a lot of girth to pack on, pig. Praise comes to those that show unreasonable levels of gluttony, got it? The kind that makes people wonder if you’ve actually been brainwashed. And I mean, you might as well be. Look around. Look at yourself. Putting your weight in my hands, just to please me. Just to grow, all for me.

But I’m not easy to impress or please. If you want to catch my attention and get my hands caressing every roll and tender stretch mark, then you’ve got to plump. The fuck. Up. Gorge yourself to the brim on all of the foods you already love anyways, and move as little as possible. It’s that simple. I picked you because you said you wanted this. You told me you wanted nothing more than to let go and let me fatten you up beyond recognition. Are you all talk? Is that it? 

Maybe you’re just not cut out for it. Maybe you just aren’t greedy enough. But I don’t think that’s it at all. I think you’re scared. Scared of what other people will think. Scared of how they’ll react when they see that you can barely waddle around, completely unrecognizable, all because of your devotion to me. 

I’ll tell you this right now: I don’t care that you’re scared. What could be more important than gorging yourself and growing for me? Nothing else will bring you the level of satisfaction you’ll get when I slap a blue ribbon on your fattened ass and award you the title of #1 Hog. If you want to go back to a self-conscious life where you have to worry about every little calorie you put in your body so that you can maintain this societally imposed standard, I won’t stop you. But I’m offering you an escape from all that. An escape where you can let every inhibition go, and be adored for it.