You awaken, tied to my bed. You see me before you, and you harden with arousal. You can’t help yourself. I have stuffed you full, you see, and now, I am here to have my fun.
Allow me to introduce myself, hon, for I am not what I appear to be. You see me as a sexy dark-haired woman who has taken you out for a gluttonous meal at the buffet, and now back to my room for a bit of fun in bed.
I grin at you as my body begins to transform. My tongue comes out of my head and forks, hissing at you. My slender strong back shoulders morph into dark red wings, like those of a bat. A tail slithers out of my panties, a tail pointed with a dagger’s sharpness. My teeth grow shiny and sharp. Horns grow from my head.
Still, you find me incredibly erotic, my slender waist, my bountiful breasts, my wide hips and thick strong thighs which I wrap about your weakened body, digging my knees into your fat belly.
Does that hurt, lover? Well, you ain’t felt nothing yet. I reach for the bedside table, and bring to your lips more cake. Your appetite knows no end, does it, haha? Gluttony without boundaries! That’s what you are all about.
You think you just met me tonight, but I have been with you a long time. I am a demon of gluttony and lust, the twin sins which have befallen you. I have been a voice in your head for a long time. I am succubus, sent here to fulfill your fantasies, to fatten your belly, to steal your seed – and destroy your soul, not that you have much soul left at this point.
I return to my sensuous human form as your eyes widen with lust and pain. I appear again as an incredibly sexy woman with dark sparkling eyes.
I have lived long in your dreams, and now I am here to bring to reality your nightmares – the fantasies you have carried in that sick brain of yours for these many years.
You have tried to suppress my voice and my vision, even though I am the only one who can help you achieve your fantasies. We are here for a deal – your soul for your greatest fantasy, and I know what it is, you sick twisted man.
My chance is here now. I am the one who has been whispering in your ear and convincing you to overeat and grow fatter. You thought that was you? No, that was me, darling. You were so innocent when I first saw my opening as you grew into manhood.
You know me well. You have listened to me a lot lately. You are definitely getting heavier, and I have grown louder with every ounce you gained. And finally, I found you eating alone in that Chinese buffet restaurant, and I seduced you so easily with more food and the promise of my body.
I am not that still quiet voice of your conscience – the one they tried to teach you about in Sunday school when you were a young boy, an acolyte in church.
I have drowned out the other voices in your head -- the voice of reason, the voice of willpower, those goody-two-shoe angel voices which tell you how to be a good boy.
I have told you how to be bad, very bad.
"But I don't want to be bad," you say. "I'm a good man."
Correction: You were a good man.
I am the demon of decadence, the sprit of self-pleasure. I represent all that you don't like about yourself – your over-indulgent nature, your carnal desires. I am the real you.
I am the devil residing in you, your own personal succubus. I am your inner demon. I am your greatest temptation, like a powerful sorceress putting a spell on you. I am a temptress bringing you gifts you can't refuse.
You have allowed me inside your head a little at a time the last few years.
A few cookies here. An extra helping of supper there. Some ice cream. Buying yourself a huge cake, and eating it all in one sitting. A late night snack. A trip to the vending machine. A little feeling that you don't need to go to the gym right now.
Yes, I can see in your eyes that you know that I know your darkest secret.
"But I can always go to the gym later, right?" you say weakly.
Wrong. You are never going back to the gym now. The time to pay for your gluttony is here.
Your conscience is the voice of dieting and "eating right" and exercising all the time. Mine if the voice of gluttony.
You obeyed me well. You really had no choice from the very beginning. You worship me and all the pleasure I stand for. I can place whatever thoughts I like in that little brain of yours.
"But I'll get fatter," you whine.
It is a small price to pay for so much joy, sweetheart. Listen to me. Your face is so handsome. You have become what some call a BHM – a big handsome man.
"But what about all my fat?" you ask as you look at yourself in the mirror on the celing.
Fat is mmmmm very sexy. Don’t you see how sexy you are. I love how your sharp jaw has softened, and these creases where you’re getting a double chin. I reach out and caress your face, causing you to throb between your legs. I laugh watching your twitching hard manhood jump about at my touch.
You listen to me as I give you false compliments.
Now you smile at your image in the mirror, seeing those lovely grey eyes and that beautiful brownish hair and not really noticing what I have done to the rest of your body lately. It has gotten bigger the last few months. You should have felt your clothes tightening around your body and know how fat I’ve made you.
You believe me as I flatter you, and you relax just the right amount to allow me to caress your double chin and sweet dimples, as I move one hand to your gluttonous gut.
It’s so easy to coax you like a butcher leading a pig to slaughter.
Go ahead and eat, my sex man. I feed you more and more cake until you are groaning with pain. “I’ll explode,” you say.
I grab your hardened member and reply, “Isn’t that the point, dear?” I feel you throb inside my fingers as I feed you more and more, reaching for a pan of lasagna which I have summoned with my powers.
You take a big sniff of its tempting aroma. I feed you bite after bite, you are just such a willing victim, it makes me smile a big smile as I look straight into your eyes, forcing my evil thoughts to flood your brain and overcome any protests. I grab a jug of milk and insert it in your lips, turning it up, as you swallow quickly.
I hope you don't mind my pet name for you – Piglet. You are my pet and my project, and I have the right to name you as I wish.
Piglet just seems such a perfect name for you and what you are becoming. Like a piglet, you are round, soft and doughy – and you are expanding, getting even bigger and fluffier as time goes on.
And as you grow, so does your appetite.
You hungry, Piglet? I know you are hungry.
You nod your head, and right then, your belly growls in agreement.
Good to hear. Now I want you to eat the lasagna now – all of it!
You look both scared and ecstatic at the notion of eating an entire pan of lasagna. Your forehead furrows with worry.
"I don't want to get fatter."
Yes, you do, my Piglet. You want to please me. With every ounce, you grow more and more handsome. Look in the mirror and see.
You gaze up at yourself again, and, moving inside your mind, I shift your perception from disgust to acceptance to admiration for how you look. I move one hand to your belly paunch as the other forks lasagna into your mouth.
What an adorable body you have! So big and strong! So much more masculinity than you have ever had. The women are going to be all over you. Go ahead, and eat. Words cannot describe how adorable you are becoming.
I rub your belly and see a look of contentment on your face. It's lovely to see that you are so easily persuaded.
Your potbelly is so wonderfully made, and those love handles, yum yum! And, like most women, I am really turned on by your man-boobs. I lean over and suckle on your nipple as you squirm in pain and desire, unable to move much due to your constraints.
I return to feeding you, and you open your mouth so willingly to my entreaties, even though you are stuffed to the maximum already. You can’t help yourself. The pain is causing you pleasure now.
"I love this lasagna," you moan between bites. You shut your eyes and smile as you take a bite. You chuckle softly to yourself.
Oh, Piglet, you have the body of a god, the god of gluttony, a lover of chocolate, the emperor of eating – and overeating.
You wince a little, your eyes open suddenly, and I see I may have overplayed my hand. Your conscience and your willpower are struggling hard to be heard. You gaze up at the mirror more critically now.
"Won't other women be disgusted by all this flab?" you ask, as I grab a handful of your middle.
Before the voice of reason can muster a peep, I shout loud enough to echo in your skull.
No, you horny hog! Women love men with some meat on their bones, with sexy strong hefty bodies. Don't worry. Eat. Just as chocolate rules you, your growing beauty will rule all women’s desires.
And besides, why worry about what other women think when you have me here? I reach out and grab your hardened member again and start tugging on it.
This sooth any worries you have. You close your eyes and open your mouth. You continue eating and eating until the lasagna is nearly all gone. I am silent now. No need to interrupt you as you plow through bite after bite.
Finally, you open your eyes look at your naked fat body in the mirror again. "I think I'm a pear-shaped," you say, struggling to turn over so you can see your fattened bottom. "Ugh, even my ass has gotten so fat."
I quickly reassure you. Women – and even some men -- love men with big rears. Come on, Big Boy, finish the lasagna, and I’ll give you a big surprise.
You listen and obey, as I scrape the last bites onto your fork. You eat eat them carefully but quickly, not letting one calorie escape its destination between those plump lips.
You relax now, your belly full and domelike now, like a mound of blubber growing toward the ceiling. I rub it slowly and senuously as you say, "I can't believe I ate it all. Burp. I'm a big glutton, ugh."
And I will be a glutton for you, my piggy boy. I can’t get enough of you. Don’t worry about a thing, just listen to me.
The cake’s sugar and lasagna carbs hit your body with a surge, and the chocolate heightens your mood, making you feel full but also very happy with yourself. Who isn't happy when they eat chocolate?
You're getting bigger all over, very nice. I whisper false flatteries to you. Good strong thick thighs, beautiful bulging belly, sexy love handles. You look fantastic. Now, I want you to keep eating for me, Piglet.
You seem alarmed. “I can’t hold any more.”
Oh, yes, you can, Piglet. For me, you can. I caress your love handles, a wicked smile tracing its way across my lips. You like this feeling so much, this full-full feeling. And you like what all this gluttony is doing to your body, you like it too much to ever stop.
This is your greatest desire, is it not – to just let a sexy woman stuff you and fatten you up and fuck your brains out? You know it is, don’t you?
Ahh, gluttony is the funnest of all the deadly sin. Wouldn't you agree, sweet Piglet. You, like most humans, are programmed biologically for gluttony. And combine gluttony with lust, and you have an unbeatable combination – just enough to drag your fat carcass to the evil side of life. Food and sex – men like you can't get enough.
But we haven’t even mentioned your deepest and darkest fantasy yet, have we, Piglet? I planted that fantasy in your brain just a few months ago, as you watched your belly bulging outward and the numbers on the scale start to climb.
Yours is the ultimate fantasy for a man experiencing the pleasures of eating and the pleasures of sex – what I like to call the pleasures of the flesh. Your brain is hardwired for such pleasures.
Psychology researchers will tell you that a lab mouse will literally eat itself to death if given the right kind of reward – a sexual orgasm after filling its belly. And this is what I have been doing for you – conditioning you for tonight and the moment of your greatest pleasures.
It’s a rather simple experiment actually. Slice into the mouse’s brain and attach stimulating electrodes to the greatest pleasure centers – where the experience of food and sexual pleasures can be found.
Then, feed the mouse. Once the mouse has eaten a little bit of food, send forth the stimulating shock, so he experiences the immense enjoyment of an orgasm.
This was easy with you. I did not have to cut into your brain, just send some naughty thoughts into your mind. You know, you started masturbating every time you filled your belly.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” you groan. I love your protestations. How often I’ve made you play with your belly, you flabby breasts and your hard throbbing manhood. And finally, the stimulation of food brings you such desire, so much horniness.
With the mouse, researchers repeat the stimulation, rewarding the mouse with sexual pleasures each time it eats more and more and more, training it to overeat.
At this point, the mose will grow very fat, very fast, and he will live only for that moment of fullness, when his belly is stretched to the max. He will become lazy and sedentary, as you have become, my Piglet. His only reason to live will be for pleasure.
Some say it is cruel to treat the mouse in such a way, but I say that’s not the proper perspective. Compare the mouse’s immense treasure of joy to that of a common mouse, scared and scurrying about, scrounging to find food and survive predators.
Some of the mice eat so much at one time that their bellies explode inside of themselves, and they die quickly of their own gluttony. Others succumb to heart attacks or go into diabetic comas, never to awaken again.
However, fattening up a mouse in this fashion is not cruelty at all. This research is kind and loving. The experiment permits the researcher to fatten the mouse to three or four times its normal size. Eventually, the mouse’s belly is so huge that its feet can barely touch the ground.
Even when the mouse can barely move, it still finds great pleasure from overeating and feeling that wondrous surge of sensuality tingle through its bloated body. Oh, to live the life of that mouse! How wondrous that must be!
Don’t you agree, Piglet?
“No, no, no,” you moan, recognizing what I have done to you, seeing your fate clearly now.
What joy and wonder the mouse must feel, even the deliciousness of that fatal final bite! You shake your head violently.
You know that mouse’s joy, don’t you, Piglet? At my suggestions inside your small brain, you’ve jerked off repeatedly as you’ve filled your belly again and again and again. You couldn’t stop as you outgrew your clothes. You couldn’t stop as you gained weight, as your hips spread, as your chest softened, as your belly bulged and your love handles appeared.
And you can’t stop now. It’s just too pleasurable, too satisfying, to ever quit.
But all good things must come to an end sometimes in the lives of mice and men alike.
A butterscotch cream pie appears, and I spoon a bit toward your face. A little more food won't hurt you one bit. I push you on. You're not even clinically obese yet. You're practically skin and bones. You know you enjoy this food, and how fat you are growing, so why not give in to your desires?
As an answer to this question, you wiggle in sensual ecstasy atop my bed, your eyes closed now as you envision yourself losing all control, eating like a pig, and getting even bigger and softer and flabbier. Your mouth opens each time I touch the spoon to your lips.
I untie your arms, and your hands reach for your love handles, the feel of that flab pushing between your fingers makes you tingle just below your growing belly.
Ahhhh, you love those love handles. Let's make them bigger, Piglet. I quickly feed you the rest of the pie, and your belly seemingly bulges even more. I untie your legs now to free you.
You get up as in a trance, go to the kitchen and return with a huge bag of chocolate cookies. So easily influenced, chocoholics like you are just so easy to fatten up.
Spoil yourself, and love yourself so much that it really shows, my sweet Piglet. I am laughing my devilish laugh now, its wickedness bouncing off the walls. A succubus knows such joy at a moment like this.
You take two cookies at a time, cram them into your mouth, chew quickly, swallow them, then your fingers are back in the bag for more. They are so delicious, and this eating is so deliciously sinful, you can't stop yourself.
You look down at your belly as you eat.
Imagine, plump Piglet, what those cookies are doing to your belly – making it more blubbery, more sensitive to your touch.
"Mmmmm," you groan.
You really should eat all the cookies in the bag. If a few taste god, imagine how much you'll love the whole package. And it will help you get bigger and more luscious, my little Piglet.
Again you moan. You like being called a pig. It is no insult to your greedy, gluttonous mind.
Go ahead, deary. Be bad. Be greedy. Be decadent.
More moaning as you continue to stuff yourself.
And be naughty, haha, how naughty it is to eat and grow so fat. This is not what good boys do at all, piggy.
You make a grunting sound, then start to oink like a pig. "Oink, oink, oink," you say to yourself. You lie back on the pillows and look up in the mirror, watching yourself eat, watching how your bulging belly shake as you laugh at your oinking piggish sounds.
Such a hungry little pig, but not 'little' for long, eh? That you love to eat is showing. Your gluttony will become more apparent in the next few weeks – if you live that long even. You have just now started down the path to obesity, Piglet, toward obesity and the end. How does it feel?
"Oink, oink, oink," you chuckle sensuously as I rub your bloated belly, so hard and packed full.
Soon, Piglet, you will be able to eat more than you ever have. If you think you are a piggy now, just wait. Soon, you will have a hog-sized appetite. Think how you will look at 250 pounds – at 300 – at 500 pounds, a quarter-ton!
The notion sends you into a manic ecstasy. You eat quicker and quicker, grunting, moaning, groaning and occasionally making an "oink" sound followed by a deep throaty sensuous chuckle.
Go ahead, hungry fatso. Stuff those cookies into your mouth.
You smile at your reflection.
You have already outgrown your clothes. No more fitted suits or bike shorts for you, Piglet! For the rest of your shortened life, you will live in sweatpants and food-stained XXL tshirts.
Just the thought of that makes you moan again, “Mmmmm.” You can scarcely believe you are getting so turned on by simply thinking about outgrowing your clothes.
Let those calories pile up on your middle, your belly will grow more fat rolls, eventually becoming one huge delicious ball of fat.
“I can’t believe how good this feels!” you sputter with your mouth full. You rub your belly with one hand as you stuff yourself with the other, your eyes watching your body as you do, picturing yourself bigger than you already are. You like what you see – and you love what you imagine.
Imagine what you will look like with another 10 pounds – 15, 20, 25 . . . maybe even 50 more pounds.
This is almost too much for you to consider. You blush at the heat arising between your legs. You cannot imagine why the thoughts of getting so fat is turning you on.
But you accept these tingling feelings.
"Five hundred pounds is a nice round number to aim for, " you say to your image in the mirror. "What a belly I will have then!"
If you don’t eat yourself to death like the mouse in the experiment. Maybe you should slow down, heehee, before your belly bursts. I rub your belly as if to soothe you, but it only excites you more, as your hand digs in the cookie bag for more and more to eat.
And what an appetite you will cultivate by the time you hit 500! You won't be able to stop then. If you live that long.
I see now that I may have overplayed my hand.
You suddenly seem deep in thought, and you put the two cookies in your hand back in the bag. You are uncertain you want to start down this path, this path to just letting go forever and ever. You seem a little reluctant to continue.
"This is evil," you say. "I must get away from you." You struggle to sit up, your belly now slowing your movements and making it difficult to sit up.
There is no escaping me now, no running away from me, Piglet. I reach out and push you back on the cushions. Evil will find you. And fattening foods will find you and make themselves a part of you.
So why fight it, sweetheart?
"Because it is wrong, it is bad to be such a glutton, to get that fat, even this fat," you say, looking down at your blubbery belly so round and full.
I scold you for saying this. You cannot escape evil. It is everywhere. Even if you leave me, I will send you messages every minute of every day, tempting you to eat bigger meals, to eat chocolates and fine desserts.
I will make you want to snack constantly. I will eventually win, and you will no longer worry about the fact that you are going to get much, much fatter.
Your willpower is weak, and I am strong. Sit back, eat, and enjoy the ride to obesity, Piglet.
You start to nod your head obediently. You are to eat and grow fat, and that is all.
With a little reluctance, you get another cookie from the bag, bring it to your lips and eat it slowly.
"I can't stop," you say, a tear forming in the corner of your eye.
I knew you would go back to those cookies. From now on, you will never be able to open a bag of cookies without immediately eating them all. Fattening foods will tempt you forever. They will find you even if you try to avoid them.
And they will kill you eventually. Fat will pile up on you so much that your heart and organs will shut down.
You start to eat more quickly now. “I cannot fight it,” you say in a resigned tone. You realize that staying thin and fit is just too much hard work. You are too lazy for that. This is much more to your liking – eating and getting fatter and fatter.
“This is what I really want, to be fat and spoiled and lazy. I want to live the life of a hot. Cuddle me, hug me, you charming demoness. I want to be hugged by you and by globs of fat encasing my body.”
I want all that for you too – all those pleasurable feelings, Piglet. I want you to get all the food and attention and fattening that you desire.
You groan and continue to eat.
That fat loves you so much, as much as I do. It is your lover now, Piglet. No need for a girlfriend. You have me and your fat to hug you and spoil you. Your fat will be more faithful to you than any woman ever has been in all the history of the earth.
Your fat will never leave you for one minute. It will smother you with attention, it will kiss you and cuddle you and hug you, filling you with feelings of love.
And I am your lover also, Piglet, your demoness lover. You don't need a girlfriend or wife with me around. I will take good care of you. I reach around you as I play with your belly and caress your love handles.
Your eyes close as you reach for more cookies, and I reach with between your legs.
I want to be your lover now, PIglet.
"MMmmm, yes, this is heavenly," you whisper.
If you say so. Just eat, and don't worry, deary.
I know that this is really so delightfully sinful that it has nothing to do with heaven. I put my luscious lips to your ear, and my wicked laughter echoes in your head. I love you fat, I whisper.
You stop eating at once, your mouth full of cookie crumbs. You dare not swallow.
“But no one likes fat,” you say.
Fat is so adorable. Who would not like you fat?
"A lot of women don’t like fat guys."
Well, there is something wrong with them, sweety. They believe all those lies about fat – that it is bad, that it is ugly. Society and the media and the fashion industry and health professionals, they are all wrong. They lie.
You gulp down the bite of cookies you had stuffed in your mouth. You wince with pain from the pressure on your belly, but then you smile with pleasure as I rub belly, then touch your manhood.
But you know the truth now, Piglet. Fat is good, so good! You know what is best for you – and that is to be fat! It is what you want, and it is what I want. Don't let others tell you what you want. Listen to me.
You open your eyes and look up in the mirror at your chubby-cheeked face, and a grin spreads on your crumb-covered lips. "Oink, oink," you oink playfully to yourself and dive back into the cookies, stopping now and then for a big gulp of milk. "Eat more and more," you tell yourself between bites.
There is little reason for me to speak now. You are following my plans so well. I caress your bulging body seductively, readying it for an explosion of sinful pleasure.
Soon, the cookie bag is empty, and you are lying back on the bed again, rubbing your belly with one hand and between your thighs with the other. “So full, so full,” you moan.
You start to fall asleep, but my voice stirs you awake.
Don't you know I have some more food in the kitchen, Piglet?
Your belly growls again as I say this, and you sit up slowly. With a little effort, you push yourself off the bed and go get a tub of ice cream from the refrigerator freezer.
Your return and survey the damages already, the empty cake platter with a few small crumbs, the empty lasagna pan, the empty cookie bag and your full rounded belly, your bed with lots of cookie crumbs on it, and your bulging image in the mirror.
You look at the ice cream tub, but you don't start eating yet.
"I really love feeling stuffed so full," you announce as if this were some great discovery. "My belly has never been this big. I would have never imagined it feels this good to be this full." You pat your belly and move it about, feeling it wobble and jiggle as you do. It feels so right to you – like a new exotic taste you have just acquired.
And this makes you feel quite aroused. You can feel yourself getting hard again, down beneath your globular gut. I reach out and grab your throbbing pole and squeeze it. You are so full, so stuffed, so turned on now by – by – by what? “Why am I so horny?”
You are turned on by your own fatness! So eat and grow, Piglet. Eat and grow.
"I feel so hot," you say, as I reach and turn on the ceiling fan by remote. Your body heat dissipates a little as the cool air hits your bare skin.
Then, feeling the pain of your stuffed belly, you lean back against your pillows.
"Ooooh, I ate too much!" you whine.
There is no thing as 'too much' for you, Piglet. There is only 'not enough yet.' And I don't think you have had enough yet, have you? Look at your belly.
You glance down at the distended mound sitting atop the tight waistband of your jeans. “Ugh, it’s so full, it hurts.”
But it feels good too, doesn’t it? Look at that belly, Big Boy. Can you deny its power to grow even bigger? Eat some more for me. Eat some more for you. Eat to satisfy your every appetite.
"Yes, yes, I must eat more," and your fingers dig into the cold ice cream, scooping the creamy goodness into your mouth again and again.
You rub your belly as you eat, your hand skillfully caressing your love handles. You rub it for because it gives you pleasure but also because rubbing helps make room for more food.
“You aren’t even fat yet,” I whisper to your belly, my lips now grazing against it , my tongue sliding into your navel.
"I can't wait until you are finally fat – not just plump or chubby, but fat!" you exclaim to your belly. "Real, real fat!"
Your hands push deep into your fleshiness. You are so blubbery, my little oinker. I love how well you are eating for me now. This is what I want for you – all the happiness you can get from eating and growing.
You moan helplessly, your hands busy feeding your face and feeling your body. You grow hot between your legs, and you smell cheesecake and chocolate and cookies and ice cream – but also now the smell of your own animalistic sensuality.
Grow fatter, you sexy hog. I whisper this in your ear even though I don't need to now. You have the same message bouncing through every cell of your body.
"Oh my, who would ever want to stay thin once they know how glorious this feels!" you nearly scream, the words echoing off the walls of your room.
It feels so good, doesn't it, Piglet? I push my breasts against your belly, then move my lips to your love handles, nibbling on them lightly.
I rub deeply with both hands now, lifting your belly and squeezing your fat rolls and your round breasts gently. You senses are alive with desire.
"It feels so good, I can't stop." You look at the ice cream tub, then reach out for more of its sweet frozen calorie-laden temptations. "I can't stop eating."
I won't let you stop, my little pudgy piggy. Eat for me, and you will experience pleasures you have only dreamed of.
My hand moves under your belly where you are nice and soft, then to your hard throbbing pole.
"Oink," you grunt. "Oink."
My obedient piggy, I love you so, I will spoil you into a never-ending orgasm of obesity.
My hands move up and down between your legs, rubbing softly at first, then more firmly and rhythmically. You feel the pleasure of my touch on your pole.
“Keep eating,” I insist, moving my lips to surround your manhood.
Suddenly, you stop and blush, in a bit of shock, sweating so much that it rolls off you.
"Oh no," you say. "I may explode, like the mouse, and I'm so stuffed and bloated . . . and horny." You chuckle nervously to yourself.
No, if you stop, I’ll stop, I whisper into your pubic hairs, my lips firm around you. You eat the ice cream, and I’ll eat you, Piglet.
I reach and caress your protruding gut as you keep eating from the ice cream tub, your face and body now covered with the messiness of sticky melting ice cream.
You moan with pleasure. This is my, my, my secret desire.”
I know, Piglet. I put this secret desire in your heart and soul, and now, now, you will live your fantasy.
I move up on top of you, straddling your wide thighs and lowering myself onto your pole. I moan.
Eat, eat, eat, don’t stop, or I will stop.
“My secret desire,” you moan between bites of ice cream.
What a great big fat secret to have, deary. How happy you are! Such pleasure in eating and growing into a beautiful piggy.
"I need to stop. So good, so good. I need to stop. I’m going to explode."
No, Piglet, don't. Give in to your deepest desires. There is no turning back now.
"But this is so bad for me to do." You halt eating for a few seconds, and you are breathing with difficulty now.
No, you are wrong. It is a good thing, my chunky man. You are letting go of all notions that fat is bad or ugly. Even if fat were a bad thing, you can't stop anyway. You want to be a piglet, so now you will not stop eating until you get as big as a hog.
I release a devilish laugh which bounces about inside the room, echoing in your head.
"So good, so good, I never felt so horny." You writhe about beneath me in a sensual seizure of pleasure.
Go ahead, Piglet. Relieve yourself of your love juices. Fill me full, as I have filled you full. It's okay. No one is here but you and I. Free your soul and your body from all constraints.
I scratch my fingernails across your belly. Your skin is tight and stretched across the bloated expanse of your gut. One poke of my sharpened fingernails, and I am certain you will bust like an over-ripened watermelon.
I scream at you. Cum in me, you fat fucker! My fingers play across your chest, squeezing your man-boobs, tweaking your nipples playfully.
“I won’t be able to fit back into my clothes after this,” you scream.
Or ever again, Piglet. It's okay. You can always get new clothes. If you survive, that is.
Your belly pokes out so hard and sensuously, stretching your skin even more. You look at yourself, and your eyes do a quick assessment of every crease and fat roll.
I insist you eat, and you continue to slosh ice cream in, filling every nook and cranny of your stomach and guts.
"Ooooh, this is so tempting. I have never felt like this before."
What wondrous joy is ahead of you!
"I can't stop now even if I wanted to. It's all too good, the chocolate ice cream, the bloating, my fingers upon my belly, these love handles, and you on top of me. It's all so good."
I slide myself up and down your hardness, coming down very firmly upon your belly. I push it with a lot of force. Go ahead, Piglet. Release your pleasures. Let them all out.
Your heart is beating very fast. Your breathing becomes quicker. Catching your breath is hard and difficult now. Your stomach is going to turn all that food into flab, adding to your beauty and your weight. You are going to be so heavy now that you have started this journey.
"What a glutton I am! And so hungry and horny all at the same time."
It feels so good, doesn't it, Piglet?
Your fingers move swiftly now to feed yourself -- and I move upon you swiftly as well, to suck you dry of your semen. I scream for you to release it into me.
"I am getting so horny and full inside," you whimper and shiver. "And my belly seems like a balloon blowing up." You whimper, out of breath, with a joyous expression on your face.
It is not wrong to do this. How could such joy ever be wrong, Piglet?
You moan and groan loudly, closing your eyes and shuddering, your whole body shaking, the fat jiggling across you in small waves.
"I want to eat more. I want more. Oh, I have never felt anything like this before. My appetite and horniness are too great." You are savoring the last few bites of ice cream, enjoying it all the more because it is nearly gone.
Oh, Piglet! I scream, bouncing on top of your belly. As I ride you, my wings spread out dark and full, my horns grow atop my head, you feel my tail wrapping around your thick thighs, and I smile a sharp-toothed grin.
Still, you cannot stop eating. Your mouth fills with lustful moans of pleasure.
Just then, you hear a noise inside of you, a loud popping noise. It feels like thunder burning inside your gut. You try to speak, but you can only grunt and snort.
You’re going to blow, I whisper in your ear.
This notion brings you to climax.
Just then, I feel you spraying up inside of me, hot cum filling me, giving me your sexual essence, as your soul starts to drift away and die.
"Ohhhhhhh!” you scream, your mouth open wider than ever in a perfect O, as an orgasm blasts through your chubby body. You convulse in pleasure as you swallow your last bite of ice cream, your flab jiggling as your body quakes.
What a good piglet you are, big boy! I wanted you to eat it all, and you did. Good Piglet! Or should I say, bad Piglet, evil Piglet! I laugh wickedly inside your skull.
"I can't believe I let myself do this," you moan regretfully as you feel your guts tearing inside of you.
Oh, you did not do this alone, big boy.
I laugh wickedly as your eyes grow dim and close, and your body’s pinkness fades to grey.
Don't forget, Piglet. I am here with you always. And neither you nor your conscience can drown out my voice again. Ever.
And by the way, welcome to Hell!
You feel the heat of flames now upon you, your body sweating like a pig roasting on a spit. You open your mouth in a silent scream, and something hot and distasteful fills your mouth, burning your tongue.
There is no ice cream in Hell, my dear Piglet!