Penelope Rouge
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Consequences
🕑 Added 2022-08-09 21:00:03 +0000 UTCHere we are again.
Your breathless grunts and groans are like music to my ears now. I’ve made you this way. I’ve bent your will again and again. It doesn’t take much to persuade you to overeat. In fact, as long as I keep supplying the food, you keep stuffing your fat fucking face. You know I’ll never stop either. You’ve gotten this fucking fat and now I need you even bigger.
You keep complaining that your clothes are shrinking and you can’t fit into your car very well anymore and yet I keep seeing you sneak to the fridge every half hour or so. Then you ask to stop at the buffets even more often now. Single meals can’t seem to hold you over for a while anymore. You used to do so well. You could go hours without eating a single crumb and now look at yourself, greedy, obese, and constantly searching for your next fill.
I just sit back and watch my efforts unfold before my eyes. You wanted a feeder Mistress and you got one. You’ve grown so fucking much since we’ve been together and I can take the blame for every ounce of food that has gone past your lips. I know you have your doubts some days about what you truly want, but I end up shoving donuts into your mouth and you keep right on track.
And that’s just how easy it is. How easy it is to fatten you up. I don’t even have to try anymore, you just choose food and then more on top of it. I can casually feed you ten thousand calories in a day and you just keep glutting yourself beyond that. Sure eighty pounds within nine months is a bit much but you haven’t slowed down yet. My plump little dumpling feedee blowing up into a massively obese, food addicted, slob. And all for me…
Yes, you have gotten sloppy haven’t you? You used to dab your chin and cheeks with a napkin after every other bite ensuring that you didn’t slop anything all over your face. Now you just finish your meal and leave the sticky leftovers all over yourself until you notice it in a mirror. Crumbs and sauces stuck to your shirt like a disgusting hog. I was certain you would feel a little shame from letting yourself go like this, but here I am watching you slowly turn into my precious little prized piggy.
Your snoring is getting terrible now too. All that weight pressing on your neck and lungs is turning into a nightly struggle. I see a CPAP machine in your near future. It gets to be a little embarrassing when you need assistance just to breathe at night because you’ve made yourself so Goddamn fat. I wonder just how much garbage I can stuff into you until you need a mobility scooter. Or should I just skip that part and push you straight to immobility? It wouldn’t take much. Just keep associating sex with food. You’ll get there calorie by calorie.
Your gut is fucking huge now too. I love hefting it up onto the bathroom counter just to tease you about it. Jiggle it. Kiss it. You eat so much and it goes straight to your belly, thighs, ass, and arms. No tits. I guess they drew the short end of the weight gain stick didn’t they? That’s fine though, I love watching your cellulite riddled asscheeks waver and wobble when you waddle down the hallway for yet another snack. The way they slap each other with every step and sway back and forth, I truly can’t keep my eyes off of your enormous globular ass. But I don’t feel guilty, not even for a second. Because as long as I have my way with you, you’ll just keep getting bigger by the day.
Another sick thing I enjoy doing is watching you go up the stairs. You used to ascend and descend them like an agile antelope. Now you struggle just to get to the middle landing. I know at some point you will have to make the downstairs bedroom your permanent home. But for now just for a little workout I command you to climb them just so I can degrade you for it. I know it turns you on just as much as it does me. But what I can’t wait for is the day you simply have to take a break halfway through just to catch your breath. You’re almost there I can fucking taste it. You’re getting too heavy for vigorous exercise and that alone gets me so fucking hot. I really am molding you to be a human swine and you’re just along for the indulgent calorie loaded ride.
The days pass and I’m guessing you’ll be nearly seven hundred pounds within the next year or so. I spend three times as much on takeout on just you alone. It's funny to see the people at the drive through. All they see is me, average size, ordering five times as much food as a normal person would and yet I never get any bigger. Then I just deliver it all to you, my human garbage disposal. It seems every week you can handle eating more and more. Your stomach must be stretching to an inhuman size by now. I’m sure a bariatric surgeon would love to see how fucking big your stomach is.
But I really do love it. I love your huge pliable belly. I love pressing my hands into it and rolling it around in circles when you haven’t eaten for a bit. But most of all I love it when it’s full. Completely full and heavy. When I’ve coerced you into feasting until your entire torso has hardened into a burdensome hefty lump. I know you’re only going to be gaining more each time you pack yourself so fucking tight with food. Your metabolism is wrecked and you know it. I’ll never stop finding more ways for you to binge. You love buffets, late night gorging, food related bets. But most of all, you absolutely love the funnel. It’s so cute you had no idea how many calories you really could consume. Until I broke out my favorite toy…
I’ve fed so many people that I have tactics now to make someone gain weight. My personal favorite is to take a feedee out to numerous restaurants and order their favorite things. I’ll order something too on occasion, but mostly this little game is for my fat subject. We’ll order out, go back to my place, their place, a hotel, whatever…and I’ll let them binge. Then I’ll fill all the empty cracks with a calorie loaded weight gain concoction. Mainly heavy whipping cream, chocolate syrup, cookies…all blended to go right down their greedy throat. That alone tires my fat bloated feedee right out and they fall asleep only to add more weight to their blubbery growing body.
And you’re so close to being bed bound I can hardly contain myself. It’s like an animalistic feeling deep inside my chest. For every pound added to your already fat burdened frame I find myself needing to fuel your hunger just to keep you growing, spreading, and becoming heavier than you were the day before. If I could, I would simply keep a funnel directly inside of you to pump you full all hours of the day. I would want your stomach to become a literal mountain of adipose slowly crushing you below. I know how fucking horny you get when you’re full so I would have no problem doing so either. You’ve let yourself go this far, why not take it to the next level? You’ve always teetered on the edge of making immobility happen and now I’m going to make sure you get there.
Perhaps you should just sit down…take a load off. Rest. Relax. Let me do all the work for you. Let me do everything, in fact… So you never work anything off ever again. I’ll just keep fattening you up until the inevitable happens. But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to make this process a slow burn for you. Let me remind you, my precious toy, I own you now. You’re too fucking fat to stop me just like the last one was. I had my way with them and I will have my way with you. You’re already over the halfway mark where I want you and I know you too damn well. You don’t plan on stopping for me or even for yourself. You don’t respect your own health and love being a hot, sloppy, obese mess.
So I’ll just keep pushing you until you’re too fucking overweight to manage standing on your own. I’ll lick my lips and watch your slow descent into immobility. Your bulbous body swollen and tired from the excess piling up. Fuck. I know you’ll be excited too. Becoming helplessly obese and bed bound is the ultimate submission to me. Ruining yourself for both of our demented sexual pleasures. I ache to be able to bury my hand between two thick meaty globs of thigh fat just to get you off. To struggle to get your legs spread. I want my view from your thighs to simply be piles of fat rolls encasing your body. I want to hear you wheezing through an oxygen mask when you orgasm.
But here’s the thing…by the time you finally realize you are completely beneath me and can never escape your own gluttonous hell, you’ll be too weak, heavy, and powerless to resist. I want you to get there. To be a giant ball of lard. Sweating, struggling, and ignoring all the obesity related health issues just to get another mouthful of delicious slop. Oh, which…by the way…will be major staple in your diet once I get you absolutely too fucking fat to move your arms and legs. Funnels will be your new best friend. Delicious calorie filled shakes with whatever I can come up with. Sure your body will stop producing insulin after a while once it’s realized all you’re fucking eating is pure sugar. After a while I’ll reward you with nutrients but I want you dumb and addicted to sweet things first. Carbs and sugar, baby.
But all this sweet indulgence comes with consequences. Embarrassing consequences. I’ll state the obvious first. Once you get so fucking fat you can’t make it to the bathroom, I’ll basically have to equipt you with a couple tubes so you can be emptied without trying. Besides, you’ll lose all control of that anyway before you know it. Once you’re pretty much eating constantly, well…the flow rarely stops and has to go somewhere.
Then I need to make sure your fat doesn’t harden and I need to jiggle and wobble your heavy sacks of flesh daily. I don’t want you getting sores now do I? You’ll need a heart monitor because extremely obese people tend to have heart attacks since all they do is fill themselves with heavy greasy fat, now don’t they?
But say…you make it past all of those milestones. You’re now the size of two bariatric beds. Nearing one ton. What could I possibly do with you? Maybe you’ll defy all odds and outgrow all my previous piglets who wanted to truly give me their lives. My God what a feat that would be… To see my creation before me, ugly, enormous, inhumane, and free. A calorie storing machine only being used as a vessel for more fat. Tubes feeding you and emptying you at the same time, your body abused but your appetite still tenacious.
I’ve always wondered just how much I could fatten someone up. Just how much the human body can handle before it gives in. I want to push that plan onto you, pig. I want to see just how much food, grease, carbs, and sugar you can take. I want to train your easily manipulated mind to put food and sex together. I want you to cum for me as soon as you’re full. The moment your tight belly has reached capacity I want you to moan in both pleasure and pain. Then I’ll repeat the process until I’ve been satisfied with what I’ve done to you.
