Ozempic H*es: My Stepbrother Paid for My Injections So I Let Him Taste the Results

ALINA:

I was big, bitter, and tired of being the “before.”

So when my fine-ass stepbrother said he’d pay for my Ozempic, I said yes.

Real fast.

He said it was for my confidence.

But he been watching me since week one.

Tracking my weight like rent due.

Touching my waist like he earned it.

Now I’m ninety-eight pounds, starving by design, and he’s got me bent over the bathroom sink whispering,

“Let me see what I bought.”

I let him.

Because food don’t hit the way his mouth do.

And if I’m gonna fall apart, it’s gonna be on his tongue.

BRYAN:

I paid for her shots because I wanted her to feel seen.

Nah.

Let me stop lying.

I did it so I could strip her down piece by piece and taste every inch I carved.

Ozempic made her smaller, but I made her mine.

Now she won’t eat without permission.

She won’t get her release without my voice in her ear.

And she thinks she’s in control because I call it love.

But this?

This is ownership.

This is every injection turning into another reason I ain’t letting her go.

Black girl hunger. Stepbrother money. Body goals with a price.

This is what happens when obsession gets skinny.

Real skinny.

No HEA without hell first.

Read hungry.