When

Chapter 1

You’ll be big enough when your shirts strain across your middle.
When your waistband digs in constantly.
When you can’t pull your winter coat closed anymore.
When your shirt buttons pull into small gaps that flash skin when you move.
When your clothes are stretched thin, the fabric pulled taut over every curve and roll.
When you’ve outgrown your entire wardrobe.

You’ll be big enough when it becomes a struggle to haul yourself out of bed, muscles aching beneath the weight you carry.
When you have to wedge yourself sideways to pass through what used to be breezy spaces.
When you have to put in work to heave yourself upright from the couch.
When your weight leaves a permanent indentation in your sofa, deep imprints that last minutes after you stand.
When the sides of your body brush and catch against doorways.
When you start to fear getting well and truly stuck walking through.

You’ll be big enough when the arms of chairs press into your hips.
When you can’t fit into booths anymore.
When your thighs spill over the edge of every seat.
When you have to worry about whether or not a chair will hold you at all.
When breaking furniture with your weight becomes more likely than not.
When it simply becomes clear: you need two seats to hold you.

You’ll be big enough when you constantly find yourself lingering in front of open fridge doors, scanning for something more.
When your midnight snacks become midnight feasts.
When food meant to last weeks disappears in just a few days.
When a sheen of sweat clings to you in the grocery store, rising from the effort of walking the aisles and pushing your heavy cart, your eyes still somehow bigger than your stomach.
When your cart overflows with junk food and unhealthy choices, nutrition facts ignored.
When you have to stop by the drive-thru after, every time, because you just can’t resist.
When half the fast food is gone before you even get home.

You’ll be big enough when you forgo serving sizes and make entire packages of food.
When you stop caring about the amounts of butter, cream or sugar you add to things.
When your belly presses against the counter while you cook, forcing you to stand back a little further.
When bending, reaching, or stirring requires pausing to catch your breath or shift your weight.
When you have to bring a chair into the kitchen, your legs unable to support you for long.
When cooking for yourself feels like too much effort, and you can’t be bothered much anymore.

You’ll be big enough when your takeout is delivered in multiple bags, with multiple sets of utensils included.
When they recognize your name at your favorite spots.
When you find yourself eating meals meant for four, or six, or a whole family.
When your snacks contain an entire day’s worth of calories.
When every eating session leaves you stuffed and uncomfortable.
When you start leaning back after meals, and you sometimes have to wonder if it’s too much.

You’ll be big enough when your thighs brush together when you walk, rubbing and chafing with every stride.
When you need to lean back as you move forward, offsetting the sway and heft of your belly.
When your steps turn into a lumbering, arduous waddle, your breathing deepening after only a few minutes, forcing you to pause and steady yourself.
When distances that once felt easy now leave your legs trembling and calves aching after just a few steps.
When you lean against door frames more often, and your steps slow on the stairs, gripping the rail as your weight bears down on you.
When they finally become impossible to climb.

You’ll be big enough when getting in and out of the car takes more effort than the drive itself.
When your car groans and dips under you.
When the seatbelt cuts into you, even fully extended.
When you can’t wedge yourself behind a steering wheel without pushing the seat all the way back.
When the car feels cramped, and every ride is a reminder of your changing shape.
When walking across a parking lot leaves you winded.

You’ll be big enough when people glance twice at your overwhelming size.
When strangers whisper as you squeeze past, their eyes tracing your wide shape.
When people step aside well in advance to give you extra space.
When their eyes drop instantly to your belly before meeting your gaze.
When they hesitate before sitting next to you, wondering if there’s enough room.
When you have to make excuses for your belly’s presence.

You’ll be big enough when you’re the fattest amongst your friends by far.
When your friends murmur about how you’ve filled out lately.
When they mention your size with awkward smiles, concern slipping through cracks in their words.
When their compliments focus on everything but your body.
When their glances follow you as you struggle to get up and move, though they pretend not to notice.
When your friends stop inviting you to active plans, already knowing what your answer will be.

You’ll be big enough when your gain is unmistakable in every new family photo.
When loved ones underestimate your size with every gifted sweater or pair of jeans.
When distant relatives go wide-eyed after years without seeing you.
When family dinners drag out, your plate quietly refilled again and again—seconds, thirds, fourths.
When they watch every serving you take, weaving in health comments under a “just worried about you” disclaimer.
When you overhear whispered plans for an intervention.

You’ll be big enough when you’ve quadrupled in size.
When the scale reads error.
When the blood pressure cuff no longer fits, and the nurse has to use your forearm instead.
When your doctor’s advice shifts from strong recommendations to urgent warnings.
When the mere thought of exercise feels exhausting.
When you realize you couldn’t stick to a diet even if you tried.

You’ll be big enough when your appetite reaches new, uncontrollable heights, driving you to finish plate after plate, hunger pushing you far beyond reason.
When your meals stretch for hours, drawn out by the relentless rhythm of fork to mouth, swallow after swallow.
When your breathing grows louder with every bite, chest rising and falling against the upward push of your swollen stomach, struggling to keep pace with yourself.
When you have to shift in your seat constantly, making space for the steady, insistent pressure of your expanding gut.
When you have to undo your buttons and loosen your belt halfway through eating, letting it fall slack beneath the swell that refuses to be contained.
When you eat enough to leave yourself aching and panting, yet your mouth still waters at the thought of dessert.

You’ll be big enough when chairs creak and groan under your weight before you even settle fully into them.
When your gut rolls over the edges of your seats, folding onto itself, trapping crumbs and warmth in its creases.
When your gut reaches your knees, your lap entirely filled, leaving no space for anything else.
When you have to spread your thighs when you sit to give your belly room.
When the sheer bulk of your stomach makes leaning forward or sideways a noticeable effort, forcing you to maneuver, tilt, and coax it into place before you can act.
When, once you’re seated, you find it hard to find the motivation to move again.

You’ll be big enough when you find your fingers sinking into your sides, feeling the soft, unyielding layers there, proof of every meal and every indulgence.
When you catch sight of yourself in mirrors and blink at the reflection you once knew, looking wider, fatter, nearly unrecognizable.
When you start to find comfort in the heavy, weighted feel of your body, in the steady rhythm of feeding, the slow build of fullness that settles deep inside.
When you no longer question how I’ve managed to turn you into this.
When I see the last flicker of hesitation give way to trust, an end to the push and pull of the craving you once resisted.
When you slowly surrender to the desires I feed.

You’ll be big enough when you need to depend on me to bring your next plate before the last is even finished, a steady flood of food to match your growing appetite.
When the slow jiggle of your flesh presses into me as I lean close to feed you, the intimate weight pressing like a conscious resistance against my influence, its growing fate sealed with each bite.
When my voice is enough to coax you on, to keep you gorging through the fullness and the haze, reminding you that this is what you want. What you need.
When your will and restraint become useless, and your appetite consumes you from the inside out, pulling you back for just one more bite, one more swallow.
When my whispered commands and lingering touches alone can encourage you through each debilitating meal, every breath between bites thick with desire and submission, a private little ritual of power and lack thereof.
When you eat so deep into yourself that I have to lift your chin so I can slip the next mouthful past your slackened lips. A slow, dazed gulp pushing yet another load into your belly’s crowded depths.

You’ll be big enough when you catch yourself hesitating to move, every motion a small battle against the heaviness that anchors you.
When effort becomes the enemy, every movement a mountain you barely conquer, your world limited to the space between you and the next meal.
When your hands forget the feel of doing, because they’ve grown so used to holding nothing but food and the weight of your own belly.
When you become a creature of routine, of feeding and rest, of my hand and the plates I bring.
When the only clock you follow is the one that tells you it’s time to eat again, and the hours between are just a blur of heavy breathing and waiting.
When I arrange your days so eating becomes your only responsibility, each pound gained bending time itself around the meals and the fullness that pulls you ever deeper.

You’ll be big enough when I become the voice you turn to, the command in your quiet life, all others falling away from our place here, where hunger and care intertwine.
When you find peace in my words, softly reminding you that the world outside doesn’t understand the bond we share. That this feeding, this slow transformation, is our sanctuary from a world of judgment.
When you let me decide who gets to see you now, carefully choosing when to let the world in and when to keep it at bay. The glances and whispers fading into silence, a shield I wrap around you.
When I tell you I have your best interests at heart, that you don’t want anything else, anything more than this, and you actually believe me.
When I can set limits only to watch you press against them, each step beyond the boundary a small victory I savor silently.
When I am the gatekeeper of your appetite, holding the keys to every craving, every ache that pulls you toward me again and again. A quiet power wrapped in warmth and indulgence, the only certainty you know.

You’ll be big enough when feeding is no longer just a moment. It’s your existence.
When your appetite has turned feral, an endless craving that gnaws at you, pairing with the dizzying ache of helplessness that comes with surrendering your body entirely to me.
When you’re willing, even grateful, to be stuffed to discomfort every hour of the day. To be awoken to eat more at any hour of the night.
When your mouth opens before you even realize it, greedy and desperate, the taste of sweet, heavy food filling every corner of your mind.
When your thoughts circle endlessly around what comes on the next bite, the next plate, the next meal, and the weight of wanting bends your mind into new shapes, desire a constant hum in your head.
When every bite you take is a mix of guilt and pleasure, a disruptive balance between hunger and want, pulling you back for more. Always more.

You’ll be big enough when your moans of contentment melt into the sounds of eating, each helpless groan answering not just to food, but to me. My gaze, my touch, my quiet commands feeding a hunger far deeper than appetite.
When just the sight and smell of food—rich, fattening, heavy, calorie-laden food—is enough to ignite arousal from deep within you before you’ve even taken a bite, the anticipation itself leaving you restless.
When the promise of fullness and my attention is all the motivation you need, aching for the weight of food settling heavy inside, pushing you past comfort into something hotter, needier.
When the line between hunger and pleasure blurs completely, until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins, your greed and my desire tangling together in the flesh and heat of your growing body.
When you crave the touch that comes with each meal, coaxing you beyond the edges of fullness as you lean into my presence while eating, your body arching and quivering with the desperation for the next bite I tease you with.
When each burp or sigh from your overfilled belly feels like a private, intimate form of ecstasy.

You’ll be big enough when just the sight of you, helpless and immobilized by your gluttony, sends waves of satisfaction and desire through me.
When I can lose myself in the endless curves of your body, fingers tracing swaths of soft fat, searching for the you that once was, only to find a luscious landscape I own completely, every inch mine to claim.
When I can feel the heat trapped between your rolls as I explore every hidden crease, every fold, every secret place your body has grown.
When your breath hitches and stutters in response, chest rising against the swell of your gut, each gasp thick with hunger and want.
When even the smallest shift makes your fat shiver and tremble around me, wrapping me in wave after wave of soft heat until I’m lost inside you completely.
When I can barely reach to pleasure you from beneath the useless, weighty swathes of bulk and rolls dominating your frame.
When the feeling of your own fat, your own swollen gut, pressing down against your most sensitive parts is enough to send jolts of pleasure tearing through you.
When your belly crowds into me with every motion, each push and grind forcing us deeper into the plush prison of your (my) own making.
When your moans come muffled, swallowed by the soft mass I’m buried in, leaving me drunk on the sound and sensation.

You’ll be big enough when your body swells with each passing day, a monument to this slow, intentional craft of uncontrol.
When your limbs become softened and swollen, when movement is a memory. A distant, impossible idea.
When the sheer weight of your body pins you in place, folds of flesh engulfing you until you can barely feel where you end and your surroundings begin.
When your vision is filled only with the undulating breaths of your belly, bloated and soft, pressing outward against everything it touches.
When you are the embodiment of excess, utterly still, yet pulsing with a greedy hunger that no feeding can truly satisfy.
When you become too heavy for either of us to shift or move.

You’ll be big enough when every craving bends beneath my will, and when your desire to grow consumes you as surely as the air you breathe, and your body moves only to the rhythm I set, and you stop asking “when” altogether as the answer becomes clear, simple.

You’ll be big enough when I say so.