Look at what you've done to me; you've made me so obese that it's obscene. I've become a monument to your insatiable need to feed; I'm nothing but fat now, a soft, shapeless mountain of lard. This is how you need me: overfed, bloated, and barely able to stand under the weight of my own body. I wouldn't dare disobey you. You don't need to spank me; I'll eat for you. I’ll prove what a greedy, obedient little pig I am. Greedily, I dig into an enormous tub of layered pudding cake, shoveling in huge, messy mouthfuls. The spoon doesn’t last long—my hands take over, clumsy and ravenous, scooping and the dessert past my fat lips and into my wanting mouth. I wipe off the sticky, creamy mess on my hands across my saggy udders and big, bulging belly for your viewing pleasure.
