More is More

I cant deny it any longer, i need you to fatten me up, make me bigger than this. I want you to make me fatter than anyone who has ever lived, i never want you to stop, even when im bed bound ill still be desperate to be fed and fucked. I fantasise about immobility, i know it will be inevitable if i had someone like you feeding me.

When you're getting morbidly obese I'll give you this cake. Of course, you do have to finish it.

Don't even ask for my sandwich, or anticipate me offering it to you... at this point, you take it from my plate, eat it in as few bites as possible while staring me down, and laugh about it, just to watch me squirm and swoon. You know I'd prefer to skip entire meals if it means you get another morsel... which is what my meals are to your endless appetite these days. You know I'm entirely under your thumb, willing to do anything to please, worship or fatten you at a moment's notice; no matter the cost or effort. And we both enjoy you taking full advantage of it.

Revel in showing off how fat you've gotten; weaponize your "fat angles," and pose yourself at me in the ways that put the full breadth of your corpulence on-display. And not just at-home; you wear the clothes that show off (and barely contain) your figure, as you eat me under the table on our dates. You love pushing me past the edge of compusure in public, effortlessly flaunting your girth and your appetite until I'm a stammering fool that's too blinded by my own lust and desire to keep it together. You enjoy watching me writhe... staring through me as you savor every bite.

You've learned that you enjoy thinking up creative ways to engage in every twisted, fat-brained whim you desire; knowing as your shamelessly gluttonous and fattening ideas/eating habits increase, so does my hopeless devotion to you.

You demand that I cook you your favorite elaborate meal (that I've learned how to make exactly to your tastes), and make yourself a snack of ice cream sandwiches with two squished snack cakes as bread, all because I was taking to long. You order catering-sized platters as your entree when we order take out, refuse to share... And you still eat all my fries. When we got out to eat, even with company, you'll order entire second entrees, appetizers, and desserts for just yourself... And as soon as the wait staff puts the plates in the middle of the table for sharing, you proudly pull them towards yourself. You love indulging at such a level beyond shame or parody, because you know I'll will enable, encourage, and pay for all of it.

I was already wholly committed to providing you with everything and anything you desire... But you've conditioned me beyond that.. I over-deliver, and anticipate your desires. Too much is just enough.