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not in the fun flirty way. i mean actually, literally, take me apart. feed me until i can't walk without waddling, until breathing feels like a chore, until my body is nothing but soft, heavy proof of your obsession. i want to be swollen with indulgence, stuffed past reason, spoiled beyond recognition.

i want to wake up in a haze of hunger and syrup-sweet affection, only to be greeted by another round of force-fed breakfasts in bed. i want you to look at me like i'm your prize pig, your project, your possession.

i want the teasing, the pressure, the constant, creeping growth. i want the way you’ll sneer when i say i’m full, the way you’ll smile when the scale creaks louder every day. I want your hands everywhere, greedy and proud, shaping me like clay into exactly what you want.

no escape. no diet. no mercy. Just feed me.

i want to be broken—beautifully, thoroughly—by appetite.

i want to be yours in the most obscene way possible. a thing you keep fattened, pampered, and pumped full of calories until i’m unrecognizable. until i'm helpless. until my body is a bloated, quivering monument to your obsession and my surrender.

don’t just feed me. force me. hold me down and pour milkshakes past my lips until i’m whining and leaking and begging you to stop, even as my gut growls for more. make me cry from fullness, then coo in my ear about how proud you are. tell me i was made to be this soft, this greedy, this round.

push me to the brink. watch me struggle to lift myself from the bed you’ve made my prison. slap the side of my belly and laugh when it jiggles for seconds after. make me wear tight clothes just so you can watch them give out, seams snapping like they’ve finally admitted defeat.

you said you wanted a pig? then feed me like one. treat me like one. no dignity, no limits. spoon after spoon, bite after bite, until i’m gasping and drooling and too heavy to fight you. make me need you to eat, to move, to breathe.

make me forget who i was before you turned me into this.