Bound and overflowing, I’m stuffed into a chair far too small for my big, blubbery, blob-bod; my fat spills over the armrests, my overfed belly sits heavily in my lap, packed from dinner. I know I shouldn’t take another bite, but we both know I will. You’ve conditioned me to need this, to want this. The moment you start feeding me chocolate cookies drenched in thick chocolate pudding, something inside me snaps. I can only pretend to resist for so long before I give in, opening wide, eagerly devouring every calorie-laden bite you offer me. I was made to be your greedy, growing piglet, getting fatter and fatter for you.