thinking about hypno and dumbification and how hot it is to be like, turned into the hypersexualized parody version of your old self. (not saying i dont Heavily appreciate the originals in these cases)
Weightlifting sports playing gal into -> gym bunny in extra tight yoga pants and sports bra. Not even exercising enough to sweat or mess up her full face of makeup basically just at the gym to get strong hot women to pick her up.
Car enthusiast mechanic gal into -> that kind of michael bay megan fox type. Skimpy and tight leather, the babe sexily laying on the car hood. She might know a lil about cars, but more importantly she loves sweaty gals who are so deticated to something so complicated. and getting railed in a hotrod is a nice bonus.
Hardcore fps ranked stuff, dark souls gamer gal into -> pornified wearing skimpy tops, btight pink dyed hair. streaming and ahowing off to chat as she plays horror games to get a fun reaction. high intensity games that she used to be good at. and otherwise pretty simple games her hypno clouded mind can handle.
all the better if they know theyre hypnotized, they still are who they were originally, but it feels so good to obey the conditioning and resisting is sooooo not worth it.
you’re class III, morbidly obese, because that’s as high as the bmi goes. there’s no bigger obesity class to label you as. you can’t say how obese you truly are.
your scale says ‘error’ because it can’t withstand the pressure of all your weight. it’s been the same number for months. you can’t say how much you truly weigh.
the biggest size at the stores are too tight against your swollen body. your clothes can’t fit on you the way they used to. you don’t know what size you need to wear.
your tape measure can’t loop around your belly. there aren’t enough inches to reach around anymore. you don’t know how wide your fat actually spans.
you’ve outgrown all the labels. you can’t be measured anymore. your obesity is unfathomable.
I want to make you too fat to get off on your own, whining and begging for it.
Pathetically grinding your fatass on the couch to hump your own lard to seek some relief.
Out of breath, gasping and giving up after 1 min.
And when your fatpad is big enough just waddling to the fridge to get more food would get you off feeling you fat massage your buried cock
Coming halfway between the couch and fridge, wheezing, snorting and grunting, needing some support from the nearest surface, trying to catch your breath.
Barely a patch on your tight sweatpants because your cock is buried so deep between your fupa, belly and thighs rolls, your balls so crushed by it, that all you manage is only a pitiful dollop of come.
Still when you see me in the kitchen, you ask between two moan and snort, that I help you to the living room, that you’re too tired and need your couch, as if you just run a marathon.
You’re morbidly obese. Morbid. Think about that. Regarded as disturbing or unhealthy. And you’ve surpassed “morbid obesity” ages ago, but you’re not slowing down. You can’t help yourself. It’s getting worse. I’m making it worse. Does that turn you on? It’s getting harder to fit into public spaces. It’s getting harder to reach yourself. It’s getting harder to convince yourself not to completely let yourself go. It’s almost like humans weren’t meant to get this big. Give in to it. Give into your hedonism and gluttony. Give into your true desires. Give into my teasing, encouragement, humiliation. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me. Do it for your feeder.
i love watching people slip further and further into desire.
I love watching them Give in.
It only gets better when an already hungry little thing needs only a little bit of encouragement and reassurance that the results would be so very welcome to dive into.
You're reading this, likely, because you can't stop indulging your curiosity. Your desire to be involved in somebody's inevitable, indulgent, and rewarding obesity...maybe even your own. 🐽
Watching bashful nights out, asking for the box, turn into eye pulling, plate clearing, dine out feasts, ordering a second entree to go. "The fridge is broken." "We're working on the kitchen" The silent doubts of the servers and dinner party as they can easily tell that not a bite will survive to sunrise, when you eat like that in company. 🌭🥡🍕🍜🍔
Watching your flat stomach, toned arms, beefy, muscular, or modestly soft, curvy, chubby, fat shapely body, whatever it once was...a product of simply living your life....transformed into a statement, maybe even a warning. Not a body of form and intention but one of consequence. One that is a result of your most hedonistic choices. One that is stacked and layered with hundreds of pounds of your own pleasures. One that is fatter than you'd ever believed you'd allow.
To spill out of your wardrobe, to eat up and challenge waistbands and seams. To change the shadows and contours of dresses and jackets and shirts and pants all because of the new angles revealed by your softness. To have to invest time and effort into building a wardrobe that can actually cover all the softness that you hold dearly to your frame.
To see trim or modestly chubby arms be eaten into pillows, inconvenient for any action other than comforting or self feeding, those that contest with an apron of a gut that spills out as rolls and handles in hips and the back.... As not even the hanging softness that gravity claims can displace all the excessive, impatient indulgence in the form of fat.
A pad consumed by your corpulence, making it near impossible to find the parts that once were used to pleasure you. Not that you could ever reach over that gut again. Only toys and special assistance could ever put contact on whatever you've buried under it all. So helplessly deep in that only the pleasure you get from gluttony can serve as aphrodesia to you now.
Don't you want that?
You're still reading.
You do. 🐽🍰🍩🍨
Admit it. Only eating past that little voice that urges a pause, a caution, a stop, will get you there. Give in.
Did you hesitate to add to your order? You'll thank yourself when it pays you back as new stretch marks, heavier breath, or more defined gut. Give in.
Did you stop yourself from finishing your plate? You're almost there. If you're not stuck in the chair before you start eating, you have room to grow. Give in.
Did you go to bed without being stuffed to aches? You're not eating enough in a day if it's not a challenge to carry your meal to bed. Add some snacks, or a whole other meal. Give in.
Did you eat and gorge yourself until you couldn't find a doorway your hips didn't meet? Wouldn't that be a milestone? Keep eating. Give in.
Growing is your priority. Trade away your mobility and self control to become an embodiment of your pleasure. It feels good to be your fattest self. Give in.
Read every bit of literature that encourages you to eat yourself fatter, and program your thoughts to revolve around that goal. Give in.
The addictive joy of being your fattest, laziest, greediest, most indulgent self, will melt away the pressure of the challenges of being fat. Give in.
Most of all, what I want is to see you grow.
Share this if you want to see others get fatter, share it if you want a reminder of why you do this to show up on your feed more often.
If, even after all this, you still struggle to give yourself that push...I'm here.
I'll make sure you slip into desire just a little further than you thought.
We’ve barely made it 10 feet from the car and you’re already out of breath, who would have thought in such a short amount of time that this little walk from the car to the front door would be like running a marathon for you, it’s pitiful yes but I can’t help but say you look so cute like this.
Your face red and your breathing ragged, your waddle has slowed to a stop to allow you to catch what little breath you can manage. Something that was such a simple task for you now seeming almost impossible like you’re pushing a giant boulder up a mountain, but in this instance the boulder is your own body just heavy and covered in fat weighing you down with every step of your lard laden legs.
You and I both know once you get inside and plop yourself down in your seat in front of your tv, as you catch your breath the only thing running through your piggy mind is how hot it was how out of breath you where and how much hotter it’s going to get the fatter you get, just think about how much more you’ll waddle in the next twenty, hell even the next fifty pounds.
How did you get so fucking fat so quickly? Could you not control yourself? Was food just "too good"? You've ruined yourself, yet you keep going. Already pre-diabetic, and rapidly approaching being diabetic. You were thin, desirable, athletic. Now you're nothing but an out of control, gluttonous, slobby, weak, flabby, wheezing, pig. You are never going back to who you once were, you're too far gone. You've put yourself below who you once were, below everyone else, below human. You've reduced yourself to a hog, livestock. Pathetic.
I bought one of your audio files I think fuck pig sexual reprogramming and at first I thought it didn’t work but man. I’m so addicted to feeling full and eating it’s getting out of hand.
It’s so hot knowing that I’m forcing that belly to swell up and up from all the way over here. You gotta be careful, cause pretty soon this little stuffing habit of yours is going to transform into a full blown fat addiction >:))
I watched one, ONE, of your hypnosis videos before bed a couple months ago, and you have destroyed me.
I slept really well that night and so listened to some more the next day. Then I started listening to them while I ate, then again at bedtime. Then the eating came.
It started with me feeling the need to eat something before going to bed, then progressed to me eating, honestly, a small meal, and has now devolved into me literally stuffing my face until my stomach is hard and tender.
I went to bed last night so stuffed I could hardly move, and I never felt so turned on in a long time. My whole belly was distended and solid, sucking in was nigh impossible, and no matter how I positioned myself, I could just feel my bulging gut rubbing the covers, or pressing into the mattress, and I was too “distracted” to sleep.
In a couple months, I’ve gained nearly 25lbs. I went from around 280lbs at 6’6”, to just over 300. This was completely unintentional, although a little part of me probably knew what I was getting into
Sorry for the long message, just thought you’d enjoy hearing more about your influence in this community :)
I do enjoy hearing about the influence I have in this community, but more importantly, your waistline. Your brain. Your subconscious responses. I love hearing about you pushing calories into yourself until you can barely stand. Until you’re a swollen, aching, throbbing mess. We both know those 25lbs you’ve gained is going to double to 50lbs. You’re loosing control. You’re going to get so greedy and brainwashed that the only thing you’ll remember to do is stuff that belly for me. You’re so good. Now go get something to eat 🖤
I can’t stop thinking about stuffing you right now, pig.
I see you standing there in your cute little outfit, with a top so tight, and shorts so tiny that all anyone notices is your massive heaving gut jutting out over the waistband.
And I just want to stuff you.
I just want to grab you by the belly, pull you into a kitchen and force any food I can find into you.
Standing there, dazed and confused, you won’t know what hit you. You’ll just feel your mouth getting filled and your tummy getting touched.
Then the only thing you’ll feel is the pleasure of being forced full by me.
And just keep shoving more and more into you, never satisfied by your current weight.
I want you bigger.
I need you bigger.
And bigger you’ll get until you get so full you need to just lie on the ground and pant like the fat pig you are.
I’ll look on in pride and give you belly rubs, knowing that you’ve gotten so much fatter for me.