Thinking about learning all the ways overfeeding you with different things affects you.
Packing you full of greasy fried food leaves you lazy and pliable. Hand feeding you doughnuts and ice-cream makes you cuddly and affectionate. Pouring a weight gain shake down your throat turns you into a desperate, pathetic mess.
Fine tuning my research with plenty of experimentation until I can plan a (lavish, decadent, table-groaning) meal to turn you into the exact kind of toy I want for the evening.
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It might start as an occasional indulgence, a way to unwind, to let go of the pressure of being perfect.
But it will always be there, at the back of your mind.
The knowledge of how good it feels to be full.
And the desire to keep growing for me.
It's there when you put an extra pump of syrup and dash of cream in your third coffee.
It's there when you add a second dish to your take out order 'for leftovers'.
And it will be there when you finally give in. When you're on your knees in front of me as I push creamy pastries between your plump lips, your apron of a belly spilling over your knees.
When you let me consume your thoughts, your body, your existence.
One of my absolute favourite has to be secretly slipping extra calories into someone's food, especially if they're trying to diet.
Swapping their protein shakes for indulgent chocolate milkshakes, their diet sodas for regular. Stirring weight gain powder into the batch of 'healthy flapjacks' I'm baking.
Encouraging them to have a few cheat days every week, and to eat way more than they usually would to 'get it out of their system'. Serving huge portions at dinner time, and telling them to eat up so they don't get hungry and snack later (but make sure they're surrounded by tasty snacks at all times, just in case.)
Couple that with always rewarding and praising them for eating well, and fucking them senseless when their belly is tightly packed, until they crave stuffing themselves with a visceral need they don't really understand.
Then one day, dropping the act. Putting them in front of the mirror and grabbing a fat handful of flab to jiggle. Making them confront how far they let things get without putting up the slightest bit of resistance. Helping them realise there's no point trying anymore, that they're always going to be my desperate, greedy piglet. Then prdering them to their knees and hand feeding them until they pant with the heavy weight of their gut.
Just have as much as you want now, and we can save the rest for later.
Here I poured you a glass of milk to wash it down with too.
I cut you a couple slices - well you always get a second one anyway, I thought I'd save you time.
Gone already? Let me grab another piece - no, I insist. You deserve to indulge yourself a little.
How much have you had? Why are you worrying about a silly thing like that. Here, this is just a small piece, I'm sure you have room.
Come on cutie, don't act shy - I know you want to ask for more. Here, I won't even cut a piece, just break off a little morsel and feed it to you.
See? That was easy to gulp down wasn't it? I bet you can eat another little piece like that.
And another.
And another.
Come on now, be a good pet and finish the last piece, you're so close now. It would be a shame to leave such a little bit left over. There you go, slump back gorgeous and feel your gut spread. You did so good for me.
I knew you could do it. That's why I got another cake for tomorrow - just in case there weren't any leftovers.
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Thinking about a streamer or a youtuber who reviews snacks getting contacted for an amazing brand deal - so amazing they don't bother to read the fine print.
The paycheck is huge - and so is the box of snacks when it arrives. They're branded as 'power bars', delicious calorie dense blocks in sweet, rich dessert flavours. Designed to be enjoyed at your desk while you focus on editing it gaming or anything else. Perfect.
The streamer opens the box live, shows off all the flavours, samples each one. A salted caramel cheesecake bar is particularly delicious, as is a nutty chocolate brownie. Their favourite, as they tell the audience, is a lemon meringue pie bar that tastes exactly like the real thing.
The streamer starts wrapping up, when a ping from their manager pops up on screen asking what they're doing. Didn't they read the contract?
The streamer hastily pulls up the pdf and scans the terms of the agreement. Their stomach sinks when they realise. To get paid, they don't just need to try each flavour, they need to eat the entire box, to prove to the audience how irresistibly delicious each bar is.
Not only will they not get paid if they don't, there's a huge fine for breach of contract. Theyve got no choice but to keep going.
The streamer tries to play it off, to not show that they've lost control of the stream. They keep peeling back wrappers and pushing bars into the mouth, joking between mouthfuls about how they're just too good to stop.
And the truth is, the bars are too good. The more the streamer eats, the easier it feels to grab another bar and rip it open, despite the growing pressure in their belly.
Each bar sits in their stomach like the dessert that inspired it, but the process of grab, peel, push into their slackened, unresisting mouth feels soothing, hypnotic.
As they reach the end of the box they're barely talking, just breathing heavily under the weight of the dense mass of food they're slowly digesting, pushing them back into their gaming chair and pinning them down.
Their chat are having a great time, teasing their icon for how easily they've lost control, how many thousands of calories they've eaten. The streamer doesn't care. When they finally finish the box, their fingers scratching against the empty cardboard for one bar they might just have missed, they give out a little moan of displeasure.
They lean forward towards their keyboard, but can't quite reach over the dome of their stretched gut. They slump back, exhausted by the effort. Well, as soon as they can reach they'll be drafting an email to the power bar company to request a new contract - and set up a regular delivery.
Fantasising about a friend inviting me round to his place. He's... Fine. Clearly a bit awkward. Jokes about all the porn he watches. Wears shirts he outgrew a few XL combo meals ago.
But he wants to show me a new VR game, and I am curious. When I get to his place he takes me to his room, and I can't help but notice the piles of wrappers littered around. Fast food bags, snacks, no wonder he's been getting so tubby lately.
He boots up his PC and hands me his VR headset to try on. It fits snugly, the ear pieces muffling any outside sound.
There's a moment of darkness, and then the 'game' loads. A complicated, weaving spiral shape fills my vision, and a low melodic hum blasts out of the headset, drowning out my thoughts.
For a moment I'm confused, in fact I go to pull the headset off, but my arms feel so heavy. Floppy. Weak. And anyway, the spiral looks cool. It feels... It feels good. I can't remember what I was worried about, in fact. I love watching this spiral.
The pulsing sound takes on a new dimension, and I can make our whispering voices, just beyond the edge of hearing. Only snatches of words are audible over the hum.
'Serve.'
'Worship.'
'Obey.'
It's getting even harder to focus. The spiral is drawing me in, filling every space inside my head. As it should. Of course, of course my head should be filled with nothing but this softness, this feeling of falling.
I don't know how long the headset is on. I don't know when I dropped to my knees, but I must have at some point, because when it's pulled off my face I'm on the floor.
As the headset is pulled off I whimper a little, sad at being taken away from the lovely spiral, the wonderful voices. Then suddenly, I don't care. Because he's there.
How could I have ever thought he was gross? A loser? He's so obviously perfect. I can't believe how lucky I am that he's my master. That I was made to serve him.
He looks down at me, a little concern troubling his perfect face, and smile up at him, desperate to know how I can ease his concern.
'How do you feel?' he asks.
'I'm perfect, master,' I say, happily. 'Is there anything I can do for you?'
His face breaks into a wide grin, and he leans back in his gaming chair, satisfied.
'Well, you should be naked, shouldn't you?'
Of course! One of my most important purposes is to be good porn for him. I pull my shirt over my head, wriggle out of my jeans, slip off my underwear. He holds out a hand I pass my underwear to him, of course, it belongs to him.
I present in the way I know he'll like, my thighs parted, my mouth open and my tongue hanging out, drool gathering at the tip. A tiny part of my brain wonders how I know what he likes - isn't this the first time I've been here? Why does this feel so natural? Then his thumb is in my mouth and those thoughts vanish. God it feels so tight to worship him.
He pulls down his sweatpants and boxers, then clicks his fingers and points at the space under his desk. I crawl there, happily, and then his hand is in my hair and his cock - his perfect, beautiful cock - is in my mouth, the heavy swelling of his gut resting on my face as I lap up the sweat from his body, savouring the taste of him.
I hear him hit his keyboard a few times, booting up one of his favourite anime porn games, but I'm too distracted trying to cockwarm him properly. I want to suck him off frantically, gagging as I take his shaft deeply, but I need to follow his direction. Right now, he's just grinding against my face, spreading my drool around my slack mouth as I lick at him with slow, deep strokes.
The anime girls on his screen moan, and his speeds up his rhythm against my face, fucking my mouth harder and deeper. When his cock hits the back of my throat I choke slightly, but I focus on relaxing my jaw, letting him use me like the fuck toy I am. I feel his shaft twitch, and he cums down my throat, the taste rich and salty and delicious. I swallow every drop, licking the tip clean as a few more drips squeeze from the tip and he lets out a deep groan.
I know he'll be sensitive after coming, so I stay in my spot on my knees and move to worshipping his beautiful gut. I kiss and lick across the surface, nuzzling my face into the swirls of dark hair. I slide my tongue into his deep belly button, nibble along the sensitive flesh of his lower gut.
I'm in heaven.
Pretty soon he's hard again, and he grabs my hair, moving me back to his cock and pressing a hand on the back of my head to fuck me deep and hard. My eyes water at the roughness, and I can't help but moan in pleasure. There's a mounting pressure between my own thighs, but that's not important right now. I need to be a good toy, a good pet. If he wants to use the rest of me later, that will be his decision.
He comes again, and pulls my head away after I've cleaned him off. He looks down at me, crouched under his desk, my eyes looking adoringly up at him, my face smeared with tears, drool and his sweat. A
He slaps me, hard, and I keep my adoring state locked on him. He hasn't given me permission to speak, but I want to thank him so badly.
Instead, he gives me another order - he's so considerate of my need to be useful.
'I'm hungry, slut. Fix it.'
Of course! He must have used so much energy fucking my worthless face, I've been so selfish. I spring to my feet immediately and rush to his kitchen, still naked.
I need to make him a proper meal, but he'll need snacks to tide him over till then. I pull open the kitchen cabinets until I find what I'm looking for. A family sized bag of chips that I pour into a bowl. A box of brownie bites I stack on a plate. A six pack of soda I carry in my mouth by the plastic ring like a loyal dog. He deserves so much better, but this will have to do for now.
I bring him his snacks, which he acknowledged with a grunt, his eyes already back on his game, though he's kind enough to slap my ass as I hurry back to the kitchen.
I pull an apron on over my naked body and start to work cooking him something more substantial, a thick stack of pancakes and crisp bacon, smothered in butter and drowning in syrup. God, I hope he likes it.
I make him a coffee and ice-cream shake too, I need to keep his energy up so he can game as long as he wants. The food seems to take ages, but finally every bite is perfect - as it should be.
I bring the plate and glass back to his room, eager to see my beautiful master again.
He's leaned back in his chair, eyes on the screen, one hand resting on his domed belly where his shirt has ridden up. He looks so gorgeous. I wait eagerly, seeing if he will be kind enough to let me feed him. He doesn't take his eyes of the heavy-titted anime girls finger fucking each other on his screen, just gestures for me to perch on the edge of his cluttered desk.
I do, careful not to disturb any of his snacks or figurines, and start cutting his pancakes into pieces and feeding him one bite after another. I love watching him eat. The soft jiggle of his double chin, the cute nipples of his moobs straining against his overstretched shirt. A blob of syrup clings to the corner of his mouth, and I reverently lean in to lick it up.
Soon enough the meal is gone, the drinks guzzled. My master - my god - heaves himself out of his chair and waddles over to the bed, reclining on his pillows like the king he is.
I move to kneel beside the bed, and he ruffles my hair, the affection meaning more to me than any bouquet of roses could.
Then, he clicks his fingers again and points at his stiffening cock. I eagerly climb up onto the bed with him and take him in my mouth again, worshipping every inch of his soft flesh. He flops backwards, watching me with a dozy, satisfied expression.
He's been planning this for a while. He already has a cage set up for me in the corner of the room, a program of more and more intense hypnosis programs to melt away every drop of my free will. He can't wait to show me off to his friends, to make full use of his perfectly obedient slave. For now though, he's enjoying the show. And soon, it'll be time for dinner.