Chapter 1 - purpose

Purpose

You want to be fucked right? It's been a while hasn't it? A few weeks, maybe a month. But your numbers haven't climbed much. You've not eaten as much as I want you to. I push and push more calories into you but you just don't seem to be growing.

Your purpose is to grow, pig. You need to know your place. You need to reach your goals fatty. If you don't, I can get real nasty and show you how much of a bitch I can be.

Four hundred seventy pounds is still quite small. Piglet sized in fact. Six hundred is when the real struggle begins. When rolling yourself over is a feat in itself. Your first goal is that. To struggle heaving your hefty, lard filled body over in bed. With enough calories, sugars, and carbs you will get there.

I want to see the dread in your face when I order you to roll over for me. The sweat dripping from you as you build up the momentum to do such a little task normal sized people can easily do. Grabbing for leverage, huffing and wheezing between each attempt. Ultimately failing and giving in, asking me for help. I won't hesitate though. I can't wait to have my hands sink into deep corpulent skin. I'll tease you every second though. I'm not going easy on you.

Your second goal to reach will be to be able to fit three large pizzas inside of you. Thick, greasy, cheesy slices of pizzas all stuffed in your gut. Where you're at now you can do one large, but three? That will take willpower. Swallowing mindlessly until you realize you're getting full but my hand just keeps coming. I'll want your belly as big as a beach ball and just as round. I'll be ruthless and will not stop until I'M satisfied. You'll want to beg and cry but it will fall on deaf ears while I rub your tummy and help you make room for more. Maybe if you're good and finish it all I'll reward you with a quick fuck.

Your third goal will be tricky. At this point you should be too fucking huge to fit into any size of clothing, only to be covered with a sheet. I'd say, roughly eight hundred pounds or close to nine hundred. Severely obese. Nearing immobility. You'll exhert yourself just sitting up for your first meal of the day. Which will consist of 30 pancakes, half a pound of bacon, a roll of sausage, 10 eggs, and a gallon of orange juice. And by this point your stomach will be so overstretched and abused you'll easily gulp it all down.

I'll spend most of my time cooking for you and when I don't feel like it, I'll funnel a slurry of melted butter and ice cream straight down your throat for added empty calories in between large meals. I need you to keep up with me because the more you grow the more I'm going to force into you.

Your fourth goal will be to struggle to stand up and even get out of bed. At this point you really won't want to. Your body will be so big just moving will be exhausting. I'll taunt you and help you to your feet at least and watch you waddle a few steps until you're out of breath. You'll dread standing up. It'll feel like a marathon to you. Your belly slapping your thighs with every step. Your legs pushed out in a wide stance while you haul each lard loaded leg in front of one another. Ass cheeks wobbling sloppily behind you. I know you'll beg me to lay your fat ass back in bed. I'll allow it after I see you've gotten a proper workout for an overly fattened hog. I need your face to be cherry red, your knees wobbling from the weight, and you groaning from exhaustion. That's when you'll have my permission to be sedentary once again.

For your fifth goal? Well, after this one it just gets easier. You'll be completely bed bound. By this point you'll be passed one thousand pounds and stuck sitting on your fat ass making it really easily for me to manipulate you. Brainwash you. This is your place piggy, right in this bed. Your body so packed with lard you'd need a team of VERY strong paramedics to move you and the proper heavy duty equipment.

Your only purpose will be to consume nearly 24/7. Eat and eat and eat. Fill yourself even fatter piggy. I'll adore you, fuck you, and care for you. All while you literally eat your life away. This is your dream though, to be a pig. I'll keep you stuffed full. 10 large pizzas in a day. Pounds of pasta. Endless amounts of cakes and cookies. You'll be so hopelessly addicted to sugar your mouth won't catch a break, nor will your stomach. You'll be in a constant state of gurgling indigestion, but I'll just tip your head back and pour more sugar into you, and you'll love it.

There will be no more goals after that. Anything more than being so fucking fat you can't even stand up is just a plus. Arms too bloated to even be raised at your sides? Amazing. Your neck fat is making it hard to breathe? Superb. I will be shocked if you live another year with me filling and fucking you. Hyper obesity has its consequences..but your purpose is to eat and swell up fatter than the day before. Nothing else will matter by the time you get so big you need a crane to move you. You'll be too lazy, dumb, and defeated to ever go back to a normal life.



So now pig, what is your purpose again?

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