POV: Your Feeder Teases You for Getting Stuck

I finally have full access to my page back!!! Thank you so much to everyone who sent well wishes and kind messages:) This was honestly so stressful but you guys have been so sweet. I have a longer post incoming about the changes I'll be forced to make to conform to the Patreon guidelines (and the upcoming content that will hopefully make up for those changes lol) but for now, I just wanted to get a few things posted that I've been working on lately! More to come soon<3

Oh wow.

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Wow.

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Look at you. I wasn't expecting this so soon. Although I guess I should've known. With the way you’ve been gorging yourself lately, the way you’ve been stuffing yourself past your capacity at any given opportunity and swelling that bloated mass of lard you call a body larger and larger, I should've known that all this was the next logical conclusion.

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Baby. You’re stuck.

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Trapped by your own fat, wedged in that doorframe with all the blubber coating your massive ass and widened hips spilling over both sides as you struggle helplessly for freedom. That's what you really are, aren't you? Helpless.

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Helpless to squeeze yourself out of the doorframe your hips have been brushing against with more and more force every time you waddle out of the bathroom, but even more helpless to stop yourself from the kind of piggish gluttony that porked you up to this size in the first place.

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Food just makes you so weak-willed, doesn't it? You can’t stop yourself. You don't even want to. And that's what led you here. With that desperate, embarrassed look on your face, too humiliated to call for rescue until you were certain there was no chance you were wedging your hog body out of the constricting doorway without some serious help.

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Don't blush, baby. You weren't blushing when you were spooning in that third blizzard or shoving down that fourth cheeseburger. You weren't trying and failing to suck in when you sent me to grab your third DoorDash of the day. So why so shy now? Don't act like this has never happened to you before, piggy. Don’t act like all that eating hasn't gotten you into a situation you’ve found yourself struggling to waddle away from on more than one occasion.

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Even before you got this enormous, you would eat yourself stuck all the time, wouldn't you? Or is ‘stuck’ the right word? When you’ve eaten so much that your gut is bulging over you in a lumpy, towering blob so full it's sensitive to the touch, so much that you can feel your skin stretching and movement is no longer an option, maybe the word ‘pinned’ describes your situation a bit  better.

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Pinned under your own wobbling bloat. Pinned under the results of your own greed. Left to moan, and burp, and promise you’ll never push yourself that far again. A promise we’re both well aware you’ll be breaking the next day, if not the next meal. You’re an addict. Not just to the food, to its taste, but to that overstuffed feeling when you’ve taken things so far you’re no longer in control. That moment when you become more animal than human, when all you can do is try and remain cognizant as you writhe in pain and sweat pure grease. When every position is uncomfortable and you can barely lift yourself into them. When you know you could still cram a few more bites into that triple-chinned face but you can’t muster the strength to heave yourself to your feet.

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Those moments must be so frustrating for you, aren’t they? When you have to wait for your overfed body to digest a fraction of your feast so you can grunt with effort as you waver to your feet to stuff yourself even more. It must seem like eons to you, forced to be patient while your poor, fattening body struggles to convert all those calories into more chub. At least on those occasions, the times when you eat yourself stuck onto the couch or between the arms of a particularly restrictive chair, at least in those moments, you have a choice. You don't have to debase yourself by calling for help. You don't have to reveal to anyone else just how far your little weight problem has gotten out of control.

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But a situation like this? Well, I can say what I want, can't I? I can do what I want. Prod you and poke you, grab that plush love handle fighting to free itself and give it a shake that leaves your whole body jiggling. I can do whatever I want, because you can't stop me. You ate that option. You ate away your agency, your independence. When you’re so fat you need help just to make your way around the house, you don't get to call the shots anymore. Your feeder does. And if this is what you could do to yourself, imagine what your feeder can do to you? Especially now that you can't resist. Especially now that you’ve gotten to the point where you're forced to admit you’ve taken things too far.

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Two people should be able to turn sideways and pass each other in that doorway, and you can’t even lumber through head-on. Even if you were to turn sideways, that rounded apron belly pushing out of the bottom of that 3XL t-shirt and your massive, bouncing ass fighting for space in skintight sweatpants would stop you just as quickly as those swollen hips did.

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You ate yourself too big for daily life. You know what that means, don't you? It means you’re only going to grow. It means you’ve crossed the final threshold that separates a person from a sentient pile of flab. It means you’ve passed the true point of no return and relegated yourself to a life defined by nothing more than unfettered gluttony.

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There's no point in dieting once you’re too fat to fit through the door. There's no point in an ineffectual effort. There's no world in which you’ll ever, ever be savage sized again. You’ll always be a jaw-dropping cautionary tale about the dangers of an uncontrollable appetite. You’ll always be the kind of person that needs help squeezing through a doorway. The kind of person greedy enough to outgrow not just their clothes, but their home.

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How does that make you feel? To know that this problem is only going to worsen? To know that the next time this happens, it might take more than my help to get you free?

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In fact, I'm not so sure I can wedge you out, babe. You might have to stay there for a while and pose for some pictures for me while I figure out the best way to force all that weight through to the other side.

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You know what I think? I think we're gonna have to butter up all those side rolls and hope for the best, huh porker? Don’t worry. I’ll feed you the leftover butter once we’re done.