POV: Your Feeder Encourages You (Full Audio + Text)

Look at what you’ve done to yourself. Look at what all those pints of ice cream and boxes of grease-soaked fast food has done to you, look at how all that unrestricted gluttony has swollen your body up with soft, heavy fat.

You’ve been eating so well lately. I know you can feel it. I know you can feel yourself growing rounder and wider, I know you have to accommodate for that extra new heft you’re lugging around every time you heave yourself to your feet to grab another takeout delivery from the front door.

Do you feel your body taking up more and more space? That porky slab of fat you call a belly pushing out further and further into your lap, those fleshy love handles testing the limits of all your undersized t-shirts and making it difficult to squeeze into certain chairs, making it impossible to take up just one space on the couch? Everything about you is getting flabbier. You can't even bend down anymore without that pudgy gut getting in your way and throwing off your balance. And all that plush new fat is just making you larger and larger. Your frame is exploding with blubber, you can barely keep up with how fast you're growing. But you need more.

Don't you want more? You’ve already outgrown your entire wardrobe, you’ve already shocked everyone in your life with how quickly you gorged yourself into a wobbling pile of lard, and I know you don't want to stop. I know you just want to keep taking it further. I know you just want to eat and eat until it hurts, until you feel brand new stretch marks popping up on the enormous expanse of your poor, stretched-out gut.

I know you want to eat until you’re an unrecognizable blob. Until you can't stuff all those wobbling rolls into any of your clothes, until your size makes you burst out of your clothes in public. Until you reach the weight limit on a standard scale because your blubbery, heavy body has just packed on too much weight for it to handle. So heavy and enormous that you have to special order a fancy scale just to know how badly you’ve let yourself go, how committed you’ve been to stuffing your face like a good little prized pig. I want you to eat until you're too bloated with jiggling blubber to cram yourself into those tiny roller coaster seats at amusement parks, until you need a seatbelt extender just to take a ride in the car.

They make everything smaller nowadays, don't they? Seats in airplanes, in movie theaters. They’re all a bit tighter than they were a few years ago, huh? You can feel the fat on your sides bulging into those restrictive arms, you can feel the way your body has grown to take up all the space that you once took for granted. Just crammed into too-tight clothes, shifting around in a too-tight chair, and all the while thinking about the next meal you're going to force down those chubby cheeks. You’re obsessed. Obsessed with the way your body is growing, obsessed with the way your greed and gluttony is packing fat onto you so quickly.

All that binging has really taken its toll, hasn't it? You can't hide anymore. That spherical, globular gut just looks so impossibly round, it's like you’re constantly bloated with the last feast you stuffed yourself with. You are usually bloated from your last meal, aren't you? You eat so much, and so constantly, that you don't even know what it's like to be hungry anymore, do you? You’ve forgotten what hunger feels like because that rounded, overfed ball of a gut is always packed full from your last binge.

I mean really. Look at yourself. You’ve done, so so well. You’ve grown so huge. You should be proud of yourself every time you finish another stuffing. Every time you shove down thousands of calories that are going to turn to more soft, heavy fat bulging over your waistband. Every time you gorge yourself you make those developing rolls pudgier and fluffier, doesn't that make you feel so good? Doesn't it make you hungry? I bet it does. I bet it makes you just want to eat, and eat, and eat until you can't take anymore. Until you’ve pushed yourself so far past your capacity that you’re beached on the couch trapped underneath the weight of your own belly, grunting and groaning while you rub your engorged, overinflated gut and pant from the exertion of making yourself even fatter.

Just do what you really want. It's easy. It’ll feel so good to wake up each morning in a bigger and bigger body, to need more and more strength just to waddle yourself from one room to the other with your gut shaking with every ponderous step. The fat piled all over your body jiggling uncontrollably, your tubby little feet stomping unnecessarily because of how heavy you’ve become. Because of how enormous you’ve made yourself.

Don’t worry about what people will say. What people will think. You already know exactly what they think. They think you’re a bloated tub of lard with no self-control. They think you couldn't stop pigging out if you wanted to, that you’re a slave to your fast food addiction. They think you can’t help yourself. They think you’re gonna eat yourself into morbid obesity if you aren't careful. And they're right. With me encouraging you and enabling you, we both know your gain isn't going to slow down. We both know that belly is going to keep rounding out, keep protruding forward onto those fat thighs and jiggling far longer than it should when you slap it.

There's nothing you need to do. Nothing you need to say. Just look at yourself. Look down at the mountain of fat that makes up your middle. You did this. You did this to yourself. And you’re going to keep growing. Go have a snack.