And instead, you got obese. You blew up. You traded a svelte figure for gallons of melted ice cream and disappearing notches on your belt.

All it had taken were a few smooth moves from a feeder to sink his career in football forever.

Now he was a cautionary tale about greed and excess.

He’d been blown up past the point of no return.

The best part? The hypno meant he had no idea.

But he’d find out soon enough when his bed broke

The only thing you’ll be getting rid of before speedo season is a half dozen ripped speedos 🤷🏼‍♂️

I don’t care how many jocks I need to spoil to get what I’m after.

How many athletes will pay the price. How many models or gogo boys I have to bury in fast food.

I don’t give a shit. If I’m greedy, you’re hungry.

Sorry, not sorry.

I’m tired of asking nicely.

I deserve to be paraded with an endless supply of obese men.

Rounded chins dappled with condiments from their last feed.
Round bellies peeking below overstretched tee shirts.
Cherubic features and curvy figures.

I need fat men. Badly.