growinluvhandles
Well-Known Member
BBW WG
Author's NOTE: For many of us, our greatest fears are also our greatest temptations -- that we could give in so thoroughly and completely to the tempting little demons which reside inside of each of us. This is my greatest fear -- and also, in some perverse way -- my greatest desire.
This story reflects that kind of fear -- and the result of giving in and letting go.
A young woman's carnal desires are awakened by a tempting voice inside her.
Contains erotic female fattening, female masturbation, stuffing, a bulging belly, love handles and many wonderful things. If you don't like these kinds of things, turn back now or face the kind of temptation which befalls the main character here.
********
The Temptation of Dumpling
by ~growinluvhandles
Allow me to introduce myself, sweetheart. I am the voice inside your head, the one you have been trying so hard lately to suppress.
And now at last, my chance to be heard is here.
My voice is the one which whispers in your inner ear and convinces you to overeat and grow fatter. You know me well. You have listened to me a lot lately. You are definitely getting heavier, and I am getting louder with every ounce you gain.
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 girl.
I am drowning 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 girl.
I tell you how to be bad, very bad.
"But I don't want to be bad," you say. "I'm a good girl."
Correction: You were a good girl.
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. I am your inner demon. I am your greatest temptation, like a powerful sorcerer putting a spell on you.
You have allowed me inside your head a little at a time the last few weeks.
A few cookies here. An extra helping of supper there. Some ice cream. Baking yourself a cake. 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.
"But I can always go to the gym later, right?" you say to yourself.
Wrong. You are never going back to the gym now.
Your conscience is the voice of dieting and "eating right" and exercising all the time. Mine if the voice of gluttony.
You will obey me. You have no choice from this point on. Mine is the voice you will come to respect and worship. Soon, my voice will become your voice, the only voice you will have.
"But I'll get fat," you whine.
It is a small price to pay for so much joy, sweetheart. Listen to me. Your face is so pretty, see it, adore it and love it. You look beautiful.
"But what about my 'fatty parts'?" you ask as you look at yourself in the mirror.
Your face is beautiful, but those "fatty parts" are mmmmm very sexy. You will learn how sexy they are. You are adorable with those beautiful plump lips and cute dimples when you smile.
You smile, and your dimples deepen. You listen to me as I give you false compliments. You smile at your image in the mirror, seeing those lovely eyes and that beautiful hair and not really noticing what is happening to the rest of your body lately. It has gotten bigger the last few months, your clothes tightening around it.
You believe me as I flatter you, and you relax just the right amount to allow me even deeper into your mind.
So I can coax you like a butcher leading a pig to slaughter.
Go ahead and eat, Dumpling. There's a chocolate cake in the kitchen for you.
You get the cake and a jug of milk, and return to the bedroom. Setting the cake on your dresser, you take a big sniff of its tempting aroma.
I hope you don't mind my pet name for you Dumpling. You are my pet and my project, and I have the right to name you as I wish.
Dumpling just seems such a perfect name for you and what you are becoming. Like a dumpling, you are round, soft and doughy and you are expanding, getting even bigger and fluffier as time goes on.
You hungry, Dumpling? 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 cake now all of it!
You look both scared and ecstatic at the notion of eating an entire cake. Your forehead furrows with worry.
"I don't want to get fatter."
Yes, you do, my Dumpling. With every ounce you grow lovelier and lovelier. Look in the mirror and see.
You gaze at yourself again, and I shift your perception from disgust to acceptance to admiration for how you look. You move one hand to your belly as the other forks cake into your mouth.
That top is so lovely on you, Dumpling. So much more beauty than you have ever had. The boys are going to be all over you. And your girlfriends will be so jealous of your beauty. Go ahead, and eat. Words cannot describe how lovely you are becoming.
You start to rub your belly and get a look of contentment on your face. It's lovely to see that you are so easily persuaded.
That top shows off your belly and your middle so well, a perfect muffintop.
"I love this chocolate," you moan between bites. You shut your eyes and smile as you take a bite. You chuckle softly to yourself.
Oh, Dumpling, you have the body of a goddess, the goddess of gluttony, a lover of chocolate, the empress 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 at the mirror more critically now.
"Won't boys be disgusted by all this flab?" you ask yourself, grabbing a handful of your middle.
Before the voice of reason can muster a peep, I shout loud enough to echo in your skull.
No, Dumping! Boys love women with some meat on their bones, with sexy hefty curves. Don't worry. Eat. Just as chocolate rules you, your growing beauty will rule all men's desires.
These thoughts sooth any worries you have. You continue eating and eating until the cake is nearly all gone. I am silent now. No need to interrupt you as you plow through slice after slice.
Finally, you stand and look at your figure in the mirror again. "I think I'm a pear-shaped," you say, turning to see your wide round bottom. "Ugh, my ass has gotten so fat."
I quickly reassure you. Men love women with big rears. Go ahead and finish your cake, Dumpling.
You listen and obey, then scrape all the crumbs onto your fork and eat them carefully, not letting one calorie escape its destination between those plump pink lips.
You lie back on the bed, your belly full and domelike now, like a mound of blubber growing toward the ceiling. You rub it slowly and say, "I can't believe I ate it all. Burp. I'm a big glutton, ugh."
And men will be a glutton for you, my Dumpling girl. They won't be able to get enough, don't worry about a thing, just listen to me.
The sugar hits 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 curves, beautiful bulges, sexy love handles. You look fantastic. Now, keep eating for me, Dumpling.
You reach down and caress your love handles, a wicked smile tracing its way across your 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.
Ahh, gluttony is the funnest of all the deadly sin. Wouldn't you agree, sweet Dumpling. 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 girls like you can't get enough.
A little more food won't hurt you one bit. I push you on. You're not even overweight yet. You're practically skin and bone. You know you enjoy this food, so why not give in to your desires?
As an answer to this question, you wiggle in sensual ecstasy atop your bed, your eyes closed now as you envision yourself losing all control, eating like a pig, and getting bigger and softer and flabbier. 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, Dumpling.
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 Dumpling. I am laughing my devilish laugh now.
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 Dumpling, 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 piglet.
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 girls do at all, piggy.
You make a grunting sound, then start to oink like a pig. "Oink, oink, oink," you say to yourself in the mirror, watching yourself eat, watching 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. You have just now started down the path to obesity, Dumpling. How does it feel?
"Oink, oink, oink," you giggle sensuously.
Soon, Dumpling, 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.
You eat quicker and quicker, grunting, moaning, groaning and occasionally making an "oink" sound followed by a deep throaty giggle.
Go ahead, hungry girl. Stuff those cookies into your mouth.
You smile at your reflection and stand to get a better look at yourself.
You will need new clothes once you gain five or ten more pounds.
Just the thought of that makes you moan again. 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.
You can't believe how good this feels. 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.
"Two 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!"
And what an appetite you will cultivate by the time you hit 200! You won't be able to stop then.
This gets you thinking, 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."
There is no escaping my voice, no running away from me, Dumpling. Evil will find you. And fattening foods will find you and make themselves a part of you.
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 belly sticking out now under your top in a bulging tan strip of blubber bulging above your shorts.
I scold you for saying this. You cannot escape evil. It is everywhere. 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, Dumpling.
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.
You start to eat more quickly now. You cannot fight it. 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.
You really want to be fat and spoiled and lazy. You want to be a sweet piggy girl. You want to be cuddled and hugged by all that fat encasing your body.
I want all that for you too all those pleasurable feelings, Dumpling. I want you to get all the food and attention and fattening that you desire.
How much do you desire this, sweetheart?
You groan and continue to eat.
That fat loves you so much. It is your lover now, Dumpling. No need for a boyfriend. Your fat will be more faithful to you than any man 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, Dumpling. You don't need a boyfriend with me around. I will take good care of you. Imagine me cuddling you, reaching around your flab and playing with your belly. I will feed you as I rub your love handles.
Your eyes close as you imagine this. You reach with one hand between your legs and with the other hand for two more cookies.
I want to be your lover now, Dumpling.
"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. My wicked laughter echoes in your head.
You stop eating at once.
"What if no one likes me fat?" you ask.
Fat is so adorable. Who would not like you fat?
"A lot of girls . . . and boys too."
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 a bite of cookies you had stuffed in your mouth.
But you know the truth now, Dumpling. Fat is good, so good! You know what is best for you and that is to be fat! It is what you want. Don't let others tell you what you want. Listen to me.
You look back in the mirror at your lovely face, and a grin spreads on your 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.
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. Your jeans are now so tight, your belly, butt and thighs practically packed into them.
You start to fall asleep, but my voice stirs you awake.
Don't you have some more food in the kitchen, Dumpling?
Your belly grows again as I put this thought in your brain, and you sit up slowly. With a little effort, you push yourself off the bed and go get a cheesecake from the refrigerator.
Your return and survey the damages already, the empty cake platter with a few small crumbs, the empty cookie bag ,your bed with lots of cookie crumbs on it, and your bulging image in the mirror.
You look at the cheesecake, but you don't start eating yet.
"I really love feeling stuffed," you announce as if this were some great discovery. "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 wet, something you've never felt before, certainly not from eating. You are so full, so stuffed, so turned on now by by by what?
You are turned on by your own fatness! So eat and grow, Dumpling. Eat and grow.
"I feel so hot," you say, pulling your top off over your head. The fabric sticks to you, so tight and wet with sweat. Your body heat dissipates a little as the cool air hits your flawless bare skin.
You look in the mirror and see that you are beginning to grow right out of your bra. You unlatch it in the back and toss it to the floor. You cup your breasts and hold them up for inspection. Your hands weigh them and squeeze them like melons at the grocery.
"Well, at least the boys will like how these babies have plumpened up," you say, winking at yourself in the mirror.
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, Dumpling. 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.
Look at that belly, my dear chubby one. 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 cheesecake, 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.
"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 but also now the smell of your own animalistic sensuality.
Grow fatter, you sexy Dumpling. 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, Dumpling?
You 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 rubbing myself." You look at the cheesecake, then reach out for more of its sweet calorie-laden temptations. "And 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.
Your hand moves under your belly where you are nice and soft.
"Oink," you grunt. "Oink."
My obedient piggy, I love you so, I will spoil you into a never-ending orgasm of obesity.
Your hand moves between your legs, rubbing softly at first, then more firmly and rhythmically. You feel goodness through the stretched fabric of your jeans.
Then, you stop and blush, looking about you in a bit of shock.
"Oh no," you say. "My friends are coming soon, and I'm so stuffed and bloated . . . and horny." You chuckle nervously to yourself.
Imagine them coming in and finding you here like this, Dumpling. Cookie crumbs covering your belly, cheesecake smeared across your lips, lying back and moaning in pleasure as you eat and caress your protruding gut.
You start to feel embarrassed, but then this vision captivates you. You moan in pleasure, and you start eating and rubbing your belly again.
"But they will see me here like this, my secret desires . . . "
What a great big fat secret to have, deary. Your friends will see 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."
No, Dumpling, don't. Give in to your deepest desires. There is no turning back now.
"But this is so bad for me to do."
No, you are wrong. It is a good thing, chubby girl. 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 inside your head.
"So good, so good, I never felt so horny." You writhe about on the bed in a fit of pleasure.
Go ahead, Dumpling. Relieve yourself. It's okay. No one is here but you and I. Free your soul and your body from all constraints.
Your pants are so tight, you have some trouble unbuttoning them and peeling them off your thick thighs, but soon, you are in your panties and nothing else.
"I may not be able to get those pants on again anytime soon."
Or ever again, Dumpling. It's okay. You can always get new clothes.
Your belly pokes out so soft and sensuously, stretching your panties waistband. You look at yourself, and your fingers do a quick assessment of every crease and fat roll.
"Ooooh, this is so tempting. I have never felt like this before."
You dip your right fingers into the cheesecake while dipping your left fingers into your panties. What wondrous joy is ahead of you!
"I can't stop now even if I wanted to. It's all too good, the chocolate, the bloating, my fingers upon my belly, these love handles starting to flop over the top of my panties. It's all so good."
Go ahead, Dumpling. Release your pleasures. Let them all out.
Your heart is being 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, Dumpling?
Your fingers move swiftly now to feed yourself -- and to pleasure yourself.
"I am getting so juicy inside," you whimper and shiver. "And my belly seems like a balloon blowing up."
It is not wrong to do this. How could such joy ever be wrong, Dumpling?
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 savor the last few bites of cheesecake, enjoying it all the more because it is nearly gone.
Just then, there is a noise at the door to your house. Your friends are here. What will they think, Dumpling, when they see you like this? What will they think of such a piggy? Maybe you will try to speak, but can only grunt or snort or oink at them.
This notion brings you to climax.
"Ohhhhhhh," you try to be quiet as an orgasm blasts through your chubby body. You convulse in pleasure as you swallow your last bite of cheesecake.
What a good piglet you are, Dumpling! I wanted you to eat it all, and you did. Good girl! Or should I say, bad girl! I laugh wickedly inside your skull.
"I can't believe I let myself do this," you moan a bit regretfully as you quickly reach for a big shirt to cover yourself before your friends knock on the door.
Oh, you did not do this alone, big girl.
You hear your friends coming into your house, talking loudly. They are in the living room now, coming down the hallway, approaching your door. You sweep crumbs off the bed, embarrassed and blushing over being caught doing something so, so wrong.
A knock at the door. You try to speak, but I drown out your words for a few seconds.
I will be back later, Dumpling. Oh the fun we will have then!
Finally, you say, "Uh, come in," as you pull a quilt over your beautiful bloated body. You seem so ashamed of what you have done and of enjoying it so much.
Don't forget, Dumpling. I am here with you always.
And neither you nor your conscience can drown out my voice again. Ever.
Author's NOTE: For many of us, our greatest fears are also our greatest temptations -- that we could give in so thoroughly and completely to the tempting little demons which reside inside of each of us. This is my greatest fear -- and also, in some perverse way -- my greatest desire.
This story reflects that kind of fear -- and the result of giving in and letting go.
A young woman's carnal desires are awakened by a tempting voice inside her.
Contains erotic female fattening, female masturbation, stuffing, a bulging belly, love handles and many wonderful things. If you don't like these kinds of things, turn back now or face the kind of temptation which befalls the main character here.
********
The Temptation of Dumpling
by ~growinluvhandles
Allow me to introduce myself, sweetheart. I am the voice inside your head, the one you have been trying so hard lately to suppress.
And now at last, my chance to be heard is here.
My voice is the one which whispers in your inner ear and convinces you to overeat and grow fatter. You know me well. You have listened to me a lot lately. You are definitely getting heavier, and I am getting louder with every ounce you gain.
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 girl.
I am drowning 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 girl.
I tell you how to be bad, very bad.
"But I don't want to be bad," you say. "I'm a good girl."
Correction: You were a good girl.
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. I am your inner demon. I am your greatest temptation, like a powerful sorcerer putting a spell on you.
You have allowed me inside your head a little at a time the last few weeks.
A few cookies here. An extra helping of supper there. Some ice cream. Baking yourself a cake. 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.
"But I can always go to the gym later, right?" you say to yourself.
Wrong. You are never going back to the gym now.
Your conscience is the voice of dieting and "eating right" and exercising all the time. Mine if the voice of gluttony.
You will obey me. You have no choice from this point on. Mine is the voice you will come to respect and worship. Soon, my voice will become your voice, the only voice you will have.
"But I'll get fat," you whine.
It is a small price to pay for so much joy, sweetheart. Listen to me. Your face is so pretty, see it, adore it and love it. You look beautiful.
"But what about my 'fatty parts'?" you ask as you look at yourself in the mirror.
Your face is beautiful, but those "fatty parts" are mmmmm very sexy. You will learn how sexy they are. You are adorable with those beautiful plump lips and cute dimples when you smile.
You smile, and your dimples deepen. You listen to me as I give you false compliments. You smile at your image in the mirror, seeing those lovely eyes and that beautiful hair and not really noticing what is happening to the rest of your body lately. It has gotten bigger the last few months, your clothes tightening around it.
You believe me as I flatter you, and you relax just the right amount to allow me even deeper into your mind.
So I can coax you like a butcher leading a pig to slaughter.
Go ahead and eat, Dumpling. There's a chocolate cake in the kitchen for you.
You get the cake and a jug of milk, and return to the bedroom. Setting the cake on your dresser, you take a big sniff of its tempting aroma.
I hope you don't mind my pet name for you Dumpling. You are my pet and my project, and I have the right to name you as I wish.
Dumpling just seems such a perfect name for you and what you are becoming. Like a dumpling, you are round, soft and doughy and you are expanding, getting even bigger and fluffier as time goes on.
You hungry, Dumpling? 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 cake now all of it!
You look both scared and ecstatic at the notion of eating an entire cake. Your forehead furrows with worry.
"I don't want to get fatter."
Yes, you do, my Dumpling. With every ounce you grow lovelier and lovelier. Look in the mirror and see.
You gaze at yourself again, and I shift your perception from disgust to acceptance to admiration for how you look. You move one hand to your belly as the other forks cake into your mouth.
That top is so lovely on you, Dumpling. So much more beauty than you have ever had. The boys are going to be all over you. And your girlfriends will be so jealous of your beauty. Go ahead, and eat. Words cannot describe how lovely you are becoming.
You start to rub your belly and get a look of contentment on your face. It's lovely to see that you are so easily persuaded.
That top shows off your belly and your middle so well, a perfect muffintop.
"I love this chocolate," you moan between bites. You shut your eyes and smile as you take a bite. You chuckle softly to yourself.
Oh, Dumpling, you have the body of a goddess, the goddess of gluttony, a lover of chocolate, the empress 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 at the mirror more critically now.
"Won't boys be disgusted by all this flab?" you ask yourself, grabbing a handful of your middle.
Before the voice of reason can muster a peep, I shout loud enough to echo in your skull.
No, Dumping! Boys love women with some meat on their bones, with sexy hefty curves. Don't worry. Eat. Just as chocolate rules you, your growing beauty will rule all men's desires.
These thoughts sooth any worries you have. You continue eating and eating until the cake is nearly all gone. I am silent now. No need to interrupt you as you plow through slice after slice.
Finally, you stand and look at your figure in the mirror again. "I think I'm a pear-shaped," you say, turning to see your wide round bottom. "Ugh, my ass has gotten so fat."
I quickly reassure you. Men love women with big rears. Go ahead and finish your cake, Dumpling.
You listen and obey, then scrape all the crumbs onto your fork and eat them carefully, not letting one calorie escape its destination between those plump pink lips.
You lie back on the bed, your belly full and domelike now, like a mound of blubber growing toward the ceiling. You rub it slowly and say, "I can't believe I ate it all. Burp. I'm a big glutton, ugh."
And men will be a glutton for you, my Dumpling girl. They won't be able to get enough, don't worry about a thing, just listen to me.
The sugar hits 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 curves, beautiful bulges, sexy love handles. You look fantastic. Now, keep eating for me, Dumpling.
You reach down and caress your love handles, a wicked smile tracing its way across your 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.
Ahh, gluttony is the funnest of all the deadly sin. Wouldn't you agree, sweet Dumpling. 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 girls like you can't get enough.
A little more food won't hurt you one bit. I push you on. You're not even overweight yet. You're practically skin and bone. You know you enjoy this food, so why not give in to your desires?
As an answer to this question, you wiggle in sensual ecstasy atop your bed, your eyes closed now as you envision yourself losing all control, eating like a pig, and getting bigger and softer and flabbier. 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, Dumpling.
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 Dumpling. I am laughing my devilish laugh now.
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 Dumpling, 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 piglet.
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 girls do at all, piggy.
You make a grunting sound, then start to oink like a pig. "Oink, oink, oink," you say to yourself in the mirror, watching yourself eat, watching 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. You have just now started down the path to obesity, Dumpling. How does it feel?
"Oink, oink, oink," you giggle sensuously.
Soon, Dumpling, 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.
You eat quicker and quicker, grunting, moaning, groaning and occasionally making an "oink" sound followed by a deep throaty giggle.
Go ahead, hungry girl. Stuff those cookies into your mouth.
You smile at your reflection and stand to get a better look at yourself.
You will need new clothes once you gain five or ten more pounds.
Just the thought of that makes you moan again. 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.
You can't believe how good this feels. 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.
"Two 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!"
And what an appetite you will cultivate by the time you hit 200! You won't be able to stop then.
This gets you thinking, 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."
There is no escaping my voice, no running away from me, Dumpling. Evil will find you. And fattening foods will find you and make themselves a part of you.
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 belly sticking out now under your top in a bulging tan strip of blubber bulging above your shorts.
I scold you for saying this. You cannot escape evil. It is everywhere. 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, Dumpling.
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.
You start to eat more quickly now. You cannot fight it. 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.
You really want to be fat and spoiled and lazy. You want to be a sweet piggy girl. You want to be cuddled and hugged by all that fat encasing your body.
I want all that for you too all those pleasurable feelings, Dumpling. I want you to get all the food and attention and fattening that you desire.
How much do you desire this, sweetheart?
You groan and continue to eat.
That fat loves you so much. It is your lover now, Dumpling. No need for a boyfriend. Your fat will be more faithful to you than any man 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, Dumpling. You don't need a boyfriend with me around. I will take good care of you. Imagine me cuddling you, reaching around your flab and playing with your belly. I will feed you as I rub your love handles.
Your eyes close as you imagine this. You reach with one hand between your legs and with the other hand for two more cookies.
I want to be your lover now, Dumpling.
"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. My wicked laughter echoes in your head.
You stop eating at once.
"What if no one likes me fat?" you ask.
Fat is so adorable. Who would not like you fat?
"A lot of girls . . . and boys too."
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 a bite of cookies you had stuffed in your mouth.
But you know the truth now, Dumpling. Fat is good, so good! You know what is best for you and that is to be fat! It is what you want. Don't let others tell you what you want. Listen to me.
You look back in the mirror at your lovely face, and a grin spreads on your 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.
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. Your jeans are now so tight, your belly, butt and thighs practically packed into them.
You start to fall asleep, but my voice stirs you awake.
Don't you have some more food in the kitchen, Dumpling?
Your belly grows again as I put this thought in your brain, and you sit up slowly. With a little effort, you push yourself off the bed and go get a cheesecake from the refrigerator.
Your return and survey the damages already, the empty cake platter with a few small crumbs, the empty cookie bag ,your bed with lots of cookie crumbs on it, and your bulging image in the mirror.
You look at the cheesecake, but you don't start eating yet.
"I really love feeling stuffed," you announce as if this were some great discovery. "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 wet, something you've never felt before, certainly not from eating. You are so full, so stuffed, so turned on now by by by what?
You are turned on by your own fatness! So eat and grow, Dumpling. Eat and grow.
"I feel so hot," you say, pulling your top off over your head. The fabric sticks to you, so tight and wet with sweat. Your body heat dissipates a little as the cool air hits your flawless bare skin.
You look in the mirror and see that you are beginning to grow right out of your bra. You unlatch it in the back and toss it to the floor. You cup your breasts and hold them up for inspection. Your hands weigh them and squeeze them like melons at the grocery.
"Well, at least the boys will like how these babies have plumpened up," you say, winking at yourself in the mirror.
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, Dumpling. 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.
Look at that belly, my dear chubby one. 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 cheesecake, 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.
"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 but also now the smell of your own animalistic sensuality.
Grow fatter, you sexy Dumpling. 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, Dumpling?
You 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 rubbing myself." You look at the cheesecake, then reach out for more of its sweet calorie-laden temptations. "And 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.
Your hand moves under your belly where you are nice and soft.
"Oink," you grunt. "Oink."
My obedient piggy, I love you so, I will spoil you into a never-ending orgasm of obesity.
Your hand moves between your legs, rubbing softly at first, then more firmly and rhythmically. You feel goodness through the stretched fabric of your jeans.
Then, you stop and blush, looking about you in a bit of shock.
"Oh no," you say. "My friends are coming soon, and I'm so stuffed and bloated . . . and horny." You chuckle nervously to yourself.
Imagine them coming in and finding you here like this, Dumpling. Cookie crumbs covering your belly, cheesecake smeared across your lips, lying back and moaning in pleasure as you eat and caress your protruding gut.
You start to feel embarrassed, but then this vision captivates you. You moan in pleasure, and you start eating and rubbing your belly again.
"But they will see me here like this, my secret desires . . . "
What a great big fat secret to have, deary. Your friends will see 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."
No, Dumpling, don't. Give in to your deepest desires. There is no turning back now.
"But this is so bad for me to do."
No, you are wrong. It is a good thing, chubby girl. 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 inside your head.
"So good, so good, I never felt so horny." You writhe about on the bed in a fit of pleasure.
Go ahead, Dumpling. Relieve yourself. It's okay. No one is here but you and I. Free your soul and your body from all constraints.
Your pants are so tight, you have some trouble unbuttoning them and peeling them off your thick thighs, but soon, you are in your panties and nothing else.
"I may not be able to get those pants on again anytime soon."
Or ever again, Dumpling. It's okay. You can always get new clothes.
Your belly pokes out so soft and sensuously, stretching your panties waistband. You look at yourself, and your fingers do a quick assessment of every crease and fat roll.
"Ooooh, this is so tempting. I have never felt like this before."
You dip your right fingers into the cheesecake while dipping your left fingers into your panties. What wondrous joy is ahead of you!
"I can't stop now even if I wanted to. It's all too good, the chocolate, the bloating, my fingers upon my belly, these love handles starting to flop over the top of my panties. It's all so good."
Go ahead, Dumpling. Release your pleasures. Let them all out.
Your heart is being 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, Dumpling?
Your fingers move swiftly now to feed yourself -- and to pleasure yourself.
"I am getting so juicy inside," you whimper and shiver. "And my belly seems like a balloon blowing up."
It is not wrong to do this. How could such joy ever be wrong, Dumpling?
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 savor the last few bites of cheesecake, enjoying it all the more because it is nearly gone.
Just then, there is a noise at the door to your house. Your friends are here. What will they think, Dumpling, when they see you like this? What will they think of such a piggy? Maybe you will try to speak, but can only grunt or snort or oink at them.
This notion brings you to climax.
"Ohhhhhhh," you try to be quiet as an orgasm blasts through your chubby body. You convulse in pleasure as you swallow your last bite of cheesecake.
What a good piglet you are, Dumpling! I wanted you to eat it all, and you did. Good girl! Or should I say, bad girl! I laugh wickedly inside your skull.
"I can't believe I let myself do this," you moan a bit regretfully as you quickly reach for a big shirt to cover yourself before your friends knock on the door.
Oh, you did not do this alone, big girl.
You hear your friends coming into your house, talking loudly. They are in the living room now, coming down the hallway, approaching your door. You sweep crumbs off the bed, embarrassed and blushing over being caught doing something so, so wrong.
A knock at the door. You try to speak, but I drown out your words for a few seconds.
I will be back later, Dumpling. Oh the fun we will have then!
Finally, you say, "Uh, come in," as you pull a quilt over your beautiful bloated body. You seem so ashamed of what you have done and of enjoying it so much.
Don't forget, Dumpling. I am here with you always.
And neither you nor your conscience can drown out my voice again. Ever.
