#keep eating

I want you to constantly feel that you're taking up space. You know, that feeling where your brain hasn't quite adjusted to your new size; where you find yourself bumping into furniture or doorways... that you could swear were wider just two days ago. I want you to start noticing that your kitchen counter seems higher than it did before... Or maybe, your gut finally hangs so low that it kisses the countertop when you're looking for a snack. I want you to wonder why all of your clothes suddenly seem to have shrunk in the wash. After all, the nice pair of jeans you just bought must be poor quality... The button flew off the second you sat down, but it's not like you've been eating enough to stuff a stoned linebacker, right?

You haven't been eating much at all, have you? Some avocado toast for breakfast... Followed by two mcgriddles and a huge iced coffee. A salad for lunch... accompanied by a triple decker burger and a massive basket of cheese fries. And dinner, since you ate so healthy and light during the day, you treat yourself to a pizza... Or two... Or three. And fuck it, why not some ice cream too? You've been good, you deserve a treat, don't you? You couldn't possibly have outgrown your clothes eating like that. That's crazy!

But yes, I want you to feel heavier.

Not only in the sense that I can fit my entire head beneath your massive tit, but in the sense that you can *feel* yourself growing... Stretching... Spreading wider. You can feel your supple, cellulite dimpled flesh getting softer, bathing you in a cozy blanket of lard. I want you to feel weighed down by your body, to question why you should ever have to get off the couch... To ever have to do anything beside eating and getting fatter.

Yes baby, I want you to feel heavier.

You might slip back into your old vegetable munching, fruit nibbling ways for a bit, but then... When you're desperate to cum... You'll always beg me to whisper in your ear about all the things that would change if you got fatter. How you'd outgrow the gym. How you'd start wheezing up a flight of stairs. How you'd need help off the couch. On and on, until cum, having a mind blowing orgasm to the roleplay where I taunt you for being a fat, virgin, loser.

Then... just like that... you find yourself desperate to get high every night, and to eat until you feel your gut weighing you down on the couch so the roleplay feels more real. You beg, you stuff, you cum. You say it's for me, but we both know the truth, it's for *us* baby.