Numbers (Patreon)

Look at the numbers on the scale underneath your soft chubby feet. Those numbers grew didn't they? Just like you did of course. Your "diet" failed you once again. There you go, all sad and defeated right back to the fridge. I never complain about your weight, not once. The fridge is always stocked full of delightful goodies that make your dumb piggy brain happy. You plop yourself down in front of it with the light glowing in your face, illuminating the rest of you. This is new though. 

Usually you just grab the ice cream and angrily stuff your face. "That's okay, it will work out for you eventually." I falsely assure you. You are so used to being big it doesn't faze you anymore. Eat and eat and eat. You don't know that I add more calories to whatever dish you are making. I almost feel guilty...watching you work so hard just to fail all because of me. 

The numbers just keep rising. The scale, the measuring tape, the shirt sizes. Higher and higher as you grow fatter and fatter. I can't help myself, I can't take my eyes off of your exceedingly plump figure. I have your bras custom made for you now even with matching panties. I will break your will so you will try less and less. I know you will give up after you have grown far too big to try. That's when it really begins as a feeder. Enabling you to eat more while I watch you sit on your wide lardy ass. 

I love feeding your addiction and seeing the outcome. Your body blowing up before my eyes and yourself no longer resisting temptation. Even when you finally realize my evil intentions it will be too late. I will already have you fattened to the point where you will be to weak, pathetic, and obese to try to stop me. Your appetite will be too great and your willpower will be diminished to nothing. 

But don't worry, I will take good care of you and watch the numbers on the scale continue to rise.