Chapter 3 - "i won't let you stop."

Your eyes close as you imagine this. You reach with one hand between your legs and with the other hand for two more cookies.

I want to be your lover now, Dumpling.

"MMmmm, yes, this is heavenly," you whisper.

If you say so. Just eat, and don't worry, deary.

I know that this is really so delightfully sinful that it has nothing to do with heaven. My wicked laughter echoes in your head.

You stop eating at once.

"What if no one likes me fat?" you ask.

Fat is so adorable. Who would not like you fat?

"A lot of girls . . . and boys too."

Well, there is something wrong with them, sweety. They believe all those lies about fat - that it is bad, that it is ugly. Society and the media and the fashion industry and health professionals, they are all wrong. They lie.

You gulp down a bite of cookies you had stuffed in your mouth.

But you know the truth now, Dumpling. Fat is good, so good! You know what is best for you - and that is to be fat! It is what you want. Don't let others tell you what you want. Listen to me.

You look back in the mirror at your lovely face, and a grin spreads on your lips. "Oink, oink," you oink playfully to yourself and dive back into the cookies, stopping now and then for a big gulp of milk. "Eat more and more," you tell yourself between bites.

There is little reason for me to speak now. You are following my plans so well.

Soon, the cookie bag is empty, and you are lying back on the bed again, rubbing your belly with one hand and between your thighs with the other. Your jeans are now so tight, your belly, butt and thighs practically packed into them.

You start to fall asleep, but my voice stirs you awake.

Don't you have some more food in the kitchen, Dumpling?

Your belly grows again as I put this thought in your brain, and you sit up slowly. With a little effort, you push yourself off the bed and go get a cheesecake from the refrigerator.

Your return and survey the damages already, the empty cake platter with a few small crumbs, the empty cookie bag ,your bed with lots of cookie crumbs on it, and your bulging image in the mirror.

You look at the cheesecake, but you don't start eating yet.

"I really love feeling stuffed," you announce as if this were some great discovery. "I would have never imagined it feels this good to be this full." You pat your belly and move it about, feeling it wobble and jiggle as you do. It feels so right to you - like a new exotic taste you have just acquired.

And this makes you feel quite aroused. You can feel yourself getting wet, something you've never felt before, certainly not from eating. You are so full, so stuffed, so turned on now by - by - by what?

You are turned on by your own fatness! So eat and grow, Dumpling. Eat and grow.

"I feel so hot," you say, pulling your top off over your head. The fabric sticks to you, so tight and wet with sweat. Your body heat dissipates a little as the cool air hits your flawless bare skin.

You look in the mirror and see that you are beginning to grow right out of your bra. You unlatch it in the back and toss it to the floor. You cup your breasts and hold them up for inspection. Your hands weigh them and squeeze them like melons at the grocery.

"Well, at least the boys will like how these babies have plumpened up," you say, winking at yourself in the mirror.

Then, feeling the pain of your stuffed belly, you lean back against your pillows.

"Ooooh, I ate too much!" you whine.

There is no thing as 'too much' for you, Dumpling. There is only 'not enough yet.' And I don't think you have had enough yet, have you? Look at your belly.

You glance down at the distended mound sitting atop the tight waistband of your jeans.

Look at that belly, my dear chubby one. Can you deny its power to grow even bigger? Eat some more for me. Eat some more for you. Eat to satisfy your every appetite.

"Yes, yes, I must eat more," and your fingers dig into the cheesecake, scooping the creamy goodness into your mouth again and again.

You rub your belly as you eat, your hand skillfully caressing your love handles. You rub it for because it gives you pleasure but also because rubbing helps make room for more food.

"I can't wait until you are finally fat - not just plump or chubby, but fat!" you exclaim to your belly. "Real, real fat!"

Your hands push deep into your fleshiness. You are so blubbery, my little oinker. I love how well you are eating for me now. This is what I want for you - all the happiness you can get from eating and growing.

You moan helplessly, your hands busy feeding your face and feeling your body. You grow hot between your legs, and you smell cheesecake and chocolate - but also now the smell of your own animalistic sensuality.

Grow fatter, you sexy Dumpling. I whisper this in your ear even though I don't need to now. You have the same message bouncing through every cell of your body.

"Oh my, who would ever want to stay thin once they know how glorious this feels!" you nearly scream, the words echoing off the walls of your room.

It feels so good, doesn't it, Dumpling?

You rub deeply with both hands now, lifting your belly and squeezing your fat rolls and your round breasts gently. You senses are alive with desire.

"It feels so good, I can't stop rubbing myself." You look at the cheesecake, then reach out for more of its sweet calorie-laden temptations. "And I can't stop eating."

I won't let you stop, my little pudgy piggy. Eat for me, and you will experience pleasures you have only dreamed of.

(to be continued)