Chapter 3 - a fate greater than fat

Imagine what you will look like with another 10 pounds - 15, 20, 25 . . . maybe even 50 more pounds.

This is almost too much for you to consider. You blush at the heat arising between your legs. You cannot imagine why the thoughts of getting so fat is turning you on.

But you accept these tingling feelings.

"Five hundred pounds is a nice round number to aim for, " you say to your image in the mirror. "What a belly I will have then!"

If you don't eat yourself to death like the mouse in the experiment. Maybe you should slow down, heehee, before your belly bursts. I rub your belly as if to soothe you, but it only excites you more, as your hand digs in the cookie bag for more and more to eat.

And what an appetite you will cultivate by the time you hit 500! You won't be able to stop then. If you live that long.

I see now that I may have overplayed my hand.

You suddenly seem deep in thought, and you put the two cookies in your hand back in the bag. You are uncertain you want to start down this path, this path to just letting go forever and ever. You seem a little reluctant to continue.

"This is evil," you say. "I must get away from you." You struggle to sit up, your bloated belly now slowing your movements and making it difficult to sit up.

There is no escaping me now, no running away from me, Piglet. I reach out and push you back on the cushions. Evil will find you. And fattening foods will find you and make themselves a part of you.

So why fight it, sweetheart?

"Because it is wrong, it is bad to be such a glutton, to get that fat, even this fat," you say, looking down at your blubbery belly so round and full.

I scold you for saying this. You cannot escape evil. It is everywhere. Even if you leave me, I will send you messages every minute of every day, tempting you to eat bigger meals, to eat chocolates and fine desserts.

I will make you want to snack constantly. I will eventually win, and you will no longer worry about the fact that you are going to get much, much fatter.

Your willpower is weak, and I am strong. Sit back, eat, and enjoy the ride to obesity, Piglet.

You start to nod your head obediently. You are to eat and grow fat, and that is all.

With a little reluctance, you get another cookie from the bag, bring it to your lips and eat it slowly.

"I can't stop," you say, a tear forming in the corner of your eye.

I knew you would go back to those cookies. From now on, you will never be able to open a bag of cookies without immediately eating them all. Fattening foods will tempt you forever. They will find you even if you try to avoid them.

And they will kill you eventually. Fat will pile up on you so much that your heart and organs will shut down in a glorious explosion of gluttonous pleasure.

You start to eat more quickly now. "I cannot fight it," you say in a resigned tone. You realize that staying thin and fit is just too much hard work. You are too lazy for that. This is much more to your liking - eating and getting fatter and fatter.

"This is what I really want, to be fat and spoiled and lazy. I want to live the life of a hot. Cuddle me, hug me, you charming demoness. I want to be hugged by you and by globs of fat encasing my body."

I want all that for you too - all those pleasurable feelings, Piglet. I want you to get all the food and attention and fattening that you desire.

You groan and continue to eat.

That fat loves you so much, as much as I do. It is your lover now, Piglet. No need for a girlfriend. You have me and your fat to hug you and spoil you. Your fat will be more faithful to you than any woman ever has been in all the history of the earth.

Your fat will never leave you for one minute. It will smother you with attention, it will kiss you and cuddle you and hug you, filling you with feelings of love.

And I am your lover also, Piglet, your demoness lover. You don't need a girlfriend or wife with me around. I will take good care of you. I reach around you as I play with your belly and caress your love handles.

Your eyes close as you reach for more cookies, and I reach between your legs.

I want to be your lover now, PIglet.

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

Heavenly, haha! 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. I put my luscious lips to your ear, and my wicked laughter echoes in your head. I love you fat, I whisper.

You stop eating at once, your mouth full of cookie crumbs. You dare not swallow.

"But no one likes fat," you say.

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

"A lot of women don't like fat guys."

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 the bite of cookies you had stuffed in your mouth. You wince with pain from the pressure on your belly, but then you smile with pleasure as I rub belly, then touch your manhood.

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

You open your eyes and look up in the mirror at your chubby-cheeked face, and a grin spreads on your crumb-covered lips. Oink for me, I command.

"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. I caress your bulging body seductively, readying it for an explosion of sinful pleasure.

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. "So full, so full," you moan.

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

Don't you know I have some more food in the kitchen, Piglet?

Your belly growls again as I say this, and you sit up slowly. With a little effort, you push yourself off the bed and go get a tub of ice cream from the refrigerator freezer.

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

You look at the ice cream tub, but you don't start eating yet.

"I really love feeling stuffed so full," you announce as if this were some great discovery. "My belly has never been this big. 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 hard again, down beneath your globular gut. I reach out and grab your throbbing pole and squeeze it. You are so full, so stuffed, so turned on now by - by - by what? "Why am I so horny?"

You are turned on by your own fatness! So eat and grow, Piglet. Eat and grow. Grow fat, and grow horny.

You start to sweat from the heat of this moment. "I feel so hot," you say, as I reach and turn on the ceiling fan by remote. Your body heat dissipates a little as the cool air hits your bare skin.

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, Piglet. 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. "Ugh, it's so full, it hurts."

But it feels good too, doesn't it? Look at that belly, Big Boy. 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 cold ice cream, 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.

"You aren't even fat yet," I whisper to your belly, my lips now grazing against it , my tongue sliding into your navel.

"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 and cookies and ice cream - but also now the smell of your own animalistic sensuality.

Grow fatter, you sexy hog. 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 the room.

It feels so good, doesn't it, Piglet? I push my breasts against your belly, then move my lips to your love handles, nibbling on them lightly.

I 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.