You didn't believe me when I said I would fatten you and leave you breathless.
You thought it would only be a few pounds, enough for your kinky little brain to feel and get off too.
How naive you were.
5 pounds became 15, then 30. You started to try and refuse the binges, 30 became 50 and you tried to hit the gym, 50 became 100 and you said that you'd had enough.
I would catch you in the fridge at the early hours of the morning, devouring anything you could.
That extra 100 soon became 200, then 250.
Your stomach started to sag, the stretchmarks where always red, you got out of breath just going to your room upstairs. So I moved you into the living room, closer to the kitchen.
I always enabled you and still do, you're my little lovable lard ball.
250 quickly became 350 and you cried.
520 pounds of quivering blubber wailing about how fat you had gotten. I brought you some icecream to calm you down.
Over the next three years I helped you climb up to 695 pounds. You could still walk but just barely.
At 700 you had me help you to bed, your new home.
725 was the day we hooked up your Oxygen machine. I remember it vividly because I took the hose from your face and kissed you, then said "I know, that kiss took my breath away too"
Today you're enormous at 877 pounds, you are never full, but thats the way I like my hogs.