One thing about immobility that makes my evil feeder pupils go wide and black with joy is that people tend to drastically underestimate how big that number is before you are genuinely immobile.
Walking across a room? Not immobile. I don't care if it takes everything out of you.
Able to lift yourself out of bed with help? Maybe a few steps to a commode? Not. Immobile.
True immobility...the desperate, entirely helpless kind, is when you cannot do a thing.
Imagine being told that 700lbs isn't enough. I was promised immobility by my feedee. You aren't immobile because moving is hard, you are immobile because moving doesn't happen. You are trapped in a body that requires complete and total help for survival.
What's another 100lbs? You've done it multiple times already. You have nowhere to be. You have nowhere to go. You have nobody who could begin to pull you out of this life.
To think you already were losing your personality in order to find enough time in the day to eat yourself to this point. How much of you will be left by the time you forget how to move?
