I’m sure the reality of immobility is far more harsh and disgusting than any masturbatory fantasy but Don’t you worry because I wouldn’t let you suffer too long. I’d pump you full of the worst slop I could funnel into you. Each mouthful straining your engourged insides as I deliberately try to feed you to death to spare you the suffering. Surely your wrecked body won’t take much more. Years of unbridled gluttony have left you too fat to fuck, so I’d slide a vibrator into you and keep you cumming over and over. Your final days would be a hedonistic blur as I worship your failing body caressing your luscious, decadent fat as your crushing weight causes you to sink further into your death bed lost in a sea of your own lard all while I tease you about what a greedy pig you are. You’ll wheeze and choke for your last breath as rolls of stretch marked fat are draped over the sides of the bed as the quivering, sweaty mound of lard that you’ve e become rides the wave of one final orgasm. Your eyes lighting up with pleasure, pain, and release then glazing over — your face still covered in frosting.

Just drug me up and feed me until I pop