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A chance encounter
|Many gainers knew that they were gainers from the very start or at least quite early on in their lives and long before they started gaining. That is not the case with me at all. Perhaps I should introduce myself. I'm Kevin and my story begins when I had just turned twenty. I had known for a long time that I was gay. I was not particularly effeminate or anything like that but I knew nearly everybody else knew I was gay on meeting me. So there was no need to come out because I had been out from the start even though this caused difficulties in what is a thoroughly homophobic northern industrial town. I am five foot nine and slightly built. I looked rather younger than my years and I used this to my advantage. I have light brown hair cut quite short but with a fringe which curves over my forehead, light blue eyes which look out through black plastic rimmed glasses and I wear typically teenage clothes: skinny jeans or trackies, trainers, a tee shirt and hoodie. If you saw me in the street you would have guessed I was sixteen or seventeen. This had its inconveniences as I was constantly having to show my driver's licence to get into clubs or buy a drink. It had advantages too: I was attractive to older men who I sought out in clubs, gay bars and saunas. I made a living out of it in addition to my day job of working in a menswear shop in the local town. So in short, I was a bum boy even though I hate to say it and look back at that time with a certain amount of shame. |
Thinking back on what has happened to me, I thought I would write about what has happened to me. It was a Friday night in a gay bar. It was quite late and I had not scored. The place was full and noisy so I moved to a smaller lounge bar which was quieter to finish my drink. There was an empty seat and I asked the man sitting next to it whether it was free. It was. I had no real interest in socialising. I was off duty now, tired and ready to go home to my studio flat. I do not remember how it started but I began talking to the man, who introduced himself as Christian. I suppose Christian was about thirty. He had a round kindly face with full lips and penetrating green brown eyes. He was also obese, although that is not what struck me about him at first. As we talked , I could feel he was having a profound physical effect on me. He wasn't so much as chatting me up, he definitely wasn't, but he seemed to draw me into himself in a very arousing and enticing way. I was also responding physically to him. I was completely erect with a growing circle of precum showing through my track pants. If he wasn't aware of it then, he certainly was later as his hand brushed against the prominent tent in my trousers. It was as if he was a fisherman playing a fish or a spider luring its prey into its web. He knew that he was both controlling me and arousing me at the same time. It wasn't that I was attracted to him physically although I was responding physically, it was as if he had captured my mind and was reeling me in. So we talked and laughed while all the time I was being ensnared by the most compelling person I had ever met. When after an hour or so and two more ales later he asked whether I would like to come home with him, I readily accepted. He knew that I would because by then I was simply putty in his hands.
As he stood up to leave I appreciated for the first time how fat he was. He was large all over but with a particularly large and flaccid belly hanging down over the waistband of his trousers. He did not so much walk as waddle as his ample thighs rubbed against each other. We must have struck people as a most incongruous pair: one enormous, the other slender and boyish. On the way to his flat we stopped at Burger King and he bought two large bags of supplies. I suppose he eats a lot, I thought, as there was no way I could have eaten a fraction of what we took out of the restaurant. When we arrived at his home. It was a large flat. Christian was obviously well off. After he had shown me to the sittingroom, he left returning with a couple of cans of ale and a spread the food which he laid out on a coffee table in front of us.
"Dig in", he said.
"What all that!" I replied, to which he nodded and smiled.
"Well as much as you fancy. I'm famished", he answered. And so we did, with me eating much more than I thought I was able until I felt quite bloated. As I ate I could not resist watching Christian do the same. As I looked at him I realised I was becoming captivated by him physically as well. Until then I had always regarded overweight people with distain. How did they ever let themselves go in that way? They obviously had no self control. They had only themselves to blame if they led short unhealthy lives. But somehow it was different now. Chris's rolls of fat which pressed against his clothing seemed to have an attraction all of their own. There was something, which I cannot quite describe, that was sexually arousing about his physique which defied rational analysis. I was reacting in exactly the opposite way to what I would have expected. What should have repulsed me I found irresistible. I wanted to get my hands on it and now. As he munched through another burger, he started rubbing his stomach and then, pulling up his shirt, began to stroke and fondle his doughy pallid belly, crazed with red stretch marks. I was so aroused I started creaming my pants as I moved across to him to unbutton his shirt. Even though I had just ejaculated the attraction persisted. In fact I had never experienced an attraction quite so strong before. Kneeling before him I started to fondle and kiss his moobs and then moving down his body I explored it in detail with my lips, tongue and hands. Moving down I unzipped his trousers and removed them followed by his underpants. He was erect too. As my lips opened to take in his dick, I buried my head underneath his overhanging belly and between his soft puffy thighs. It was incredible. I could hardly breathe enveloped as I was in his mountainous body. He came quickly as he responded to my lips and tongue and my finger tips massaging and fondling his massive frame. I have never had sex like it.
After we had finished, I lay across the settee with my head cradled in the folds of his stomach as I continued to feel out every part of his magnificent body. Why hadn't anyone told me about this before? I had been offered an experience that simply was not possible with someone who was more normally built. And having tasted it, I was determined to have a lot more.
After that first session with Christian, there was no way I was going home. Without being specifically invited I was just certain that I would be staying the night. As Chris slowly rose from the settee he beckoned me to his bedroom. I dutifully followed. In the room was a double bed and he motioned for me to get into it. I willingly obeyed.
"Would you like a little night cap?" he asked.
"Sure", I replied, feeling warm, sated and content and thinking a little more alcohol would round off a perfect night.
"I'm sure you'll like it", he said as he waddled out of the room towars the kitchen. After a minute or two I heard the whirring sound of an electric blender.
"I wonder what he's up to?" I pondered. Another minute or so passed and he lumbered back with a large glass jug full to the brim with a light brown liquid.
"Sit back", he said with a smile, easing himself on to my side of the bed. "I think you will like it". With that he put the lip of the jug to my mouth and gently started to pour the contents into it as he gently massaged my belly and penis. It was a thick sweet creamy chocolate drink. It was delicious but the flow was constant so I had to gulp it down to slop it flowing out of my mouth. As he continued to pour I started to become breathless but still I gulped the drink down. Slowly my belly started to expanded, I was feeling quite bloated now but still he continued to pour until I had consumed every last drop of what must have been at least two pints of liquid. I was flushed and panting now but incredibly aroused. So even though my belly was swollen with my drink I could think of nothing else but to have sex with Chris again. He too was obviously equally aroused and as elect as I was, except with his bulk it was a little less obvious than mine.
"That was fantastic", I panted. "What was it?"
"You will have a lot more of those", he said with a grin on his face. "Yes a lot more, the're what the doctored ordered".
"Come on, get on to bed", I replied, "I am as randy as hell".
So we started again. For the most part, he lay in the same place, heaving and groaning as I clambered over his large frame, working myself in a position to mouth fuck him or to ease my arse over his dick surrounded as it was with rolls of fat, all the time experiencing the amazing sensation of his doughy, slightly clammy torso and thighs against my taut slim body. I had had sex countless times, even sex with over weight older men, but this was a different order of magnitude as far as the pleasure of it went. When we had done, I kissed him and rolled over to sleep, still feeling stuffed but with a feeling of inner contentment from a night unlike anything else I had experienced.
I slept deeply and it was mid-morning before I roused myself. Christian must have risen well before me. As I sat up in bed he came back into the room carrying the same jug this time filled with a cream-coloured liquid.
"Good morning, Kev", he said, "I have a little something to start your day. Sit up and relax". With this he again put the jug to my lips and started to pour and again, as with the previous occasion, he massaged my stomach and penis gently as he did so. It was similarly both bloating and arousing. It was also delicious. This time a sweet vanilla flavour. With the creamy drink consumed we basically started where he had left off the night before. When the sex was over, it was time to have something to eat. Invariably with Christian "something to eat" meant a really plentiful spread of calorific but very tasty food. So this was how the weekend proceeded. It was an orgy of binge eating and sex: sometimes interspersed, sometimes together. When we weren't doing either we were chatting, laughing and lolling around playing games or watching films. Everything was ordered in so we never left his flat. It was fabulous.
By the end of the weekend Christian had asked me to stay and I readily agreed to move in with him. I had never had a real relationship before and this was better than anything I could have imagined. I did not give up my flat at first, I just seldom went back to it and slowly my possessions made their way to Christian's. When I was not working, life continued in the way it had started, basically a miscellany of sex and food with each day starting and finishing with the creamy drink. These were Christian's gainer shakes. The basic mix was cream, plenty of it, maltodextrin or dextrose powder which gives you a real insulin spike so you take it all in, milk and flavouring. But Christian also ran the changes with different flavourings and sometime different ingredients like peanut butter or tuna mayo. The only constant was the maltodextrin or dextrose powder. Increasingly food became the central feature of our sexual relationship or more accurately filling me with food. The process of being force fed became of itself the principal sexual activity. Binge feeding became the orgasmic act.
Inevitably with the massive increase in my calorie intake, I started to put on weight. At first it was not that obvious, even though my clothes felt very tight. Soon I was having to buy larger sizes. After about four months there was no disguising that I was over-weight. On what was still quite a slim frame out popped a small rounded belly which rolled over my waist band. My chest was changing too. What had been flat now sported little soft pointed bosoms. To the extent I had ever had muscle definition, that had gone to be replaced by a smooth, slightly flabby, decidedly unathletic body. My weight gain did not go unnoticed at work. After all I was paid to sell fashionable clothes and part of the sales pitch was looking good in what the shop sold. This rapidly expanding shop assistant found that increasingly difficult so I decided to resign and look for something more sedentary that did not demand me looking good in fashionable clothes. Finding a new job with few skills or qualifications beyond serving in a shop took longer than I had initially anticipated. Eventually I found a position as a clerk in the shipping, order fulfillment department of a trading company. Not particularly exciting but the pay was fair and it was sedentary alright and concealed by the walls of my office cubicle a great venue for continuous snacking. During the period while I was looking for work, I had time on my hands and a growing appetite to placate. When I first met Christian, I would have described myself as a modest eater, even bird-like, but that soon changed. As I ate more, particularly the offerings from fast food restaurants, I found that my appetite grew. The more I ate, the more I seemed to want to eat. My appetite grew in tandem with the portion sizes. After a few months I stopped drinking the gainer shakes every morning and evening. They had done their work. In four months, I had put on nearly fifty pounds. Two months later I had added another twenty and I was officially obese. In my first year with Christian, I had put on a hundred pounds, actually a little more and there was absolutely no doubt that I was obese. As my weight progressed, Christian became happier and happier. He could not take his hands off my expanding belly , increasingly prominent moobs and the rolls of fat down my back culminating in prominent love handles. As I expanded he found me more and more enticing.
Even though I was becoming fatter, I was small compared to Christian. He was enormous. When I met him he was at least 450 pounds and he continued to add to those pounds; not consistently but after periods of stability the pounds started to increase. By living with him, it gave me a very clear insight into what life is like for a severely obese person. The pace of the household was determined by his speed of movement. With his weight all sorts of normal actions become very laborious or difficult: washing and dressing for example. Movement generally became more laboured. If he walked quite short distances uphill or up stairs he would start to pant and sweat quite quickly. Stooping down to pick things up presented problems. Getting up out of a chair required him to push himself up. Then everything in the world is designed for normal sized people, even if there are fewer and fewer normal sized people around as the general population becomes fatter. No seating on any form of transport was designed with somebody of Christian's size in mind. Neither is restaurant seating or the layout of shops and supermarkets. So everything is an assault course of sorts. Cinemas are out of the question once you have gained sufficient weight and so it goes on.
I too was also coming to grips with being obese. At first as I put on weight my friends made critical or joking remarks about it. I seemed fair game; getting fatter but within normal proportions. As the weight gain continued, the people around me stopped mentioning it. My weight was obviously no longer a laughing matter. I had a problem and it was easier not to mention it. One thing I did not experience was any pressure from my family. I was virtually estranged from my family before I met Christian and afterward I had moved in with him I did not see them at all. As I have greatly changed in appearance, I doubt whether they would recognise me were they to pass by me. What surprised me at first was that carrying a lot more weight did not really change things that much. I did the same activities, walked the same distances. I suppose things started to change when I was well over three hunded pounds. My increasing size, being severely obese by now, was starting to really affect me adversely. Although I had put on weight everywhere, even my shoe size increased, it was my stomach, buttocks and thighs were the weight gain was most obvious. It was here that I had prominent purple stretch marks which I started getting quite soon after I began putting on weight. When I walked my ample thighs rubbed together so I developed a more side to side gait which is typical of the morbidly obese. My legs also splayed out from the knees and my back arched to counteract the weight of my belly which is again typical of the morbidly obese. My arms no longer hung down but rested on my sides. Walking, particularly up stairs, was much more effortful. I was constantly short of breath, tired more easily and sweated profusely after any exertion. I sat more and moved more slowly. I also suffered lower back and joint pains which further encouraged me to sit whenever I could. I also started to have issues about sleeping which also goes with the territory. The way I dressed also started to change. Once you grow out of size 3XL your options start to decrease rapidly. By the time you graduate to 5XL and above there is virtually nothing available for you in the high street, so you become dependent on specialist shops that cater for larger sizes or the internet. The styles available tend to be practical and traditional and also usually aimed at an older man. Generally you are happy to find something that fits; style and fashion are secondary considerations.
It is amazing how people's attitudes towards you change once you have become obese. There is a stigma in being morbidly obese which most people view with a combination of pity and contempt. The pity comes from seeing someone whose body shape is so far from normal and precisely what our image conscious age finds undesirable. Nobody it would seem who is grossly over-weight can look good in clothes or have a physique that any normal person could find attractive. It must be terrible to be in such a condition. Life must be hard. Look how often newspapers write about somebody who has lost a great deal of weight. It is a triumph. Somehow this person has been able to trim down and join the human race. Life is enjoyable again. Weight is no longer the restriction it used to be on your personal and social life. You have regained your health and are no longer a drain on health services, which previously you did not really deserve. Then there is the contemptuous condescension with which we are viewed. Our condition is all our own fault. It demonstrates a complete lack of self-discipline and control. We are physically lazy and are gluttons, who deserve no sympathy for the health problems we are bringing on ourselves. This reaction is generally unspoken, unless you are passing a group of teenage boys when it is anything but silent as it elicits loud and insulting abuse, but it is evident nonetheless. You can sense the disapproval when you meet strangers or walk into a room. Your size is also the first thing that anyone knows about you. If someone forgets my name, all they have to do is to ask what is the name of the fat man in your office. "Oh, you mean Kevin", is the reply.
I suppose my attitudes towards others has changed also. It is difficult to overlook the reaction my size elicits from other people. So I suppose I have become more defensive and have become very conscious of my size when I am in public or with strangers. I suppose inevitably how I appear to others impacts on my self esteem. While I have not deliberately changed my circle of friends and acquaintances over time I see more of some people and less of others. That is just how live evolves. What I have found is that I am much happier in the company of obese people like me. People who also suffer the humiliation that is part of being fat are much more accepting of people in the same predicament. In their company I can free from judgement attitudes and the unspoken condemnation which is an almost invariably present when I am with more normally sized people.
You may say in my case carrying the stigma of being morbidly obese is entirely my choice. But I do not think that is completely true. Yes, I was naturally slim and now I am most definitely not. What I did not know before I met Christian was that within me was a latent desire to be fat and that the process of becoming fatter was something that I found extremely arousing. There is no logic to it but I found being fat a fantastic turn on. All the aspects of becoming massively overweight such as the restrictions on how I move, the feel of my body, the impact it has had on my health, the way it has changed what I can do, how I look and dress and how I am perceived, I find strangely exhilarating. There are daily humiliations and inconvenience but it is a product of the person I realised that I wanted to become. There was no doubting it. When the possibility presented itself in the way I responded to Christian and what he was doing to me as an encourager becoming obese was not a choice, it was a necessity. I could not live any other way. I loved my body as it became obese and how it now determines who I am and how I interact with the world and the people around me. The compulsion, once started, to become very fat must have been part of my make-up from the start. It may have been dormant for years. However once it was roused, I had to respond to it. Had I not given into to it, I would have been completely unfulfilled. My life would have been empty. By responding to the compelling urge within me, I knew I was becoming the person I was always designed to be. As I grew heavier, I became more complete and more authentically myself. So it was only a choice in a limited sense. I was by nature designed to be obese. It was just that until I had met Christian I did not know it.
I suppose it was a year or so after I have moved in with Christian that our relationship became even more focused on my gaining. As I craved gorging myself, Christian responded by concentrating his attention of assuaging those cravings and increasing the arousal that they caused. There were times when he made me consume food involuntarily through a funnel attached to a gag while I was immobilised by being tied to a chair or the bed. Just as he had played me masterfully when he first chatted me up, his feeding was artful. It did not became oppressive or bullying. He knew exactly when to stop or to be gentle yet throughout all of this he was always persistent as he increased relentlessly my calorie intake. His objective was for me to become fatter and to cease to be able to control my appetite. In this he succeeded. So I became hungrier, fatter and more intoxicated with both as we went along. As I succumbed to this onslaught whatever self-control I may have once had was beaten into complete submission. I was his and he knew it. He could do whatever he wanted and he knew I would put up no resistance.
What I did not notice at first was that Christian stopped putting on weight. In fact he started to lose it. Also, without telling me, he started taking up exercise again; something that was completely out of bounds for me. First he swam regularly and then attend a gym three times a week. So gradually our roles were reversed. I now was the one who was massively overweight and out of condition, while he, although still obese, was fitter and more agile. As he shed weight and I put it on, I started wearing his clothes as I grew out of mine and he wore mine as he slimmed down to fit them.
One thing I told myself at the outset was that as soon as I needed I could stop this. In my mind I was still potentially in control. This was voluntary. So if my health started being affected by obesity I could stop and lose some weight. When health issues eventually arose I found that I simply could not control my cravings for food. Eating and the fat it caused had become my reason to be. As I put on the pounds I developed sleep apnoea. I had been warned about this and thought I would be strong enough to discipline myself so I could overcome it. Instead I started sleeping with an oxygen mask with the resignation that I would always do so from now on. I found sleeping easier with my head and shoulders higher than my lower body so Christian ordered a hospital bed for me. This allowed the top third of the bed to be raised. It was also the second piece of "invalid equipment" to be delivered to my bedroom. I say "my bedroom" as Christian felt that as I started to need special equipment it would be sensible for me to move into the spare bedroom. I had resolved that nothing I was doing to my body would stop me from working. I needed my financial independence and my self-esteem required me to earn my own living rather than being completely dependent on Christian. I was now close to five hundred pounds and it was clear that I was simply not healthy enough to work fulltime. Did I put myself on a diet? Of course not, I just accepted that I would just stay at home and collect a disability allowance. I also gave up my flat as I could no longer afford it. I had become financially completely dependent on Christian.
At over five hundred pounds I was changing shape again into someone who was grossly obese. My belly did not extend outwards more but became larger and hung lower so when I stood it was near or even below my crotch so as I walked in addition to my ever expanding thighs rubbing together they had to push their way forward against the weight of my belly. When I sat it was generally more confortable to sit with by legs wide apart so that my stomach hung between my legs. With my ever sagging belly my weight was distributed lower so I seemed to be fattest at the level of my hips. The rolls of fat on my back were even more prominent almost like extra moobs. There was no part of me that was not fat, Even my shins were covered in a layer of it. My dress was now entirely dictated by what I could find that would fit my expanding body. My size was making many ordinary activities impossible. I could not fit into most cars or taxis. Conventional seating did not work for me and, unless it was pretty solid, I risked breaking anything I sat on.
As one year merged into another my life was also become increasingly centred on Christian's flat. Walking any distance was become increasingly difficult. I needed to stop at short intervals to catch my breath. When I stood my back and joints ached continually. Embarrassingly after starting to use walking sticks to help me about, Christian bought me a walker which incorporated a seat for rest periods on the way and I used this. There was no denying that I was an invalid now as gross obesity started to take its toll. My walker was designed with a capacity of six hundred pounds so it was just about sturdy enough. Even so walking was becoming a labour and I spend more time resting on my bed, particularly after heavy meals. The flat also had the looks of an invalid living in it. I had a specially designed sturdy chair designed with a seven hundred pound weight capacity which was raised and sprung so getting out of it was easier than a conventional armchair. That was the only chair I used. Then Christian ordered a special bariatric hospital bed, which replaced the conventional hospital bed I had been using, because my size had made the first bed impractical. Beside it was my oxygen and an extra wide bariatric commode.
As the months passed my physical condition deteriorated further. I was also now of a size that I needed help for washing, dressing and toileting. Christian drew the line at doing this himself so he hired in a carer who came mornings and evening to get me up and then put me to bed. The service was quite haphazard so I never really knew when my carer would come so I ceased to be master of my own time. Often it was mid-morning before the carer arrived and sometimes I was put back to bed as early as six or seven in the evening. Now I was dressed in what was at hand and what fitted. This was basically a tracksuit and tee shirt. These could be obtained on the internet in sizes up to 15XL so they served their purpose of covering my huge doughy frame. It did not matter really what I looked like as nobody beyond Christian and my carers were going to see me. I also noticed that once I seemed to have passed the point of no return so to speak, Christian's interest in me started to wane. He still fed me copiously and I enjoyed that. It was all I was now living for but he spent more time away from the flat. His attitude towards me also became more dominating and more brutal. He now always called me Fatboy and never Kev. Fatboy was in no position but to acquiesce to his much sterner behaviour towards me. I also realised that I was contributing less and less to the relationship. Confined to the flat day in and day out, seeing nobody apart from Christian and my carers and spending most of my day watching television or on the internet when I was not eating, I knew I had less to say. So I settled for a dull daily routine which seldom changed which made the times of my feeding more and more important to my peace of mind. In fact it became my sole pleasure.
Also, he often invited guests around later in the evening when he knew I was safely back in bed. I knew I could not disturb him then as I always heard the bedroom key turn to lock me in before guests arrived and I was told not to make a sound. I could hear them distinctively enough. Christian's moans and groans when he was close to ejaculation were such a familiar sound to me. Often when the guests had left, he would come in with a quart or two of creamy shake. Now it was now my turn to moan with pleasure. "Chris, just don't stop", I would implore, closing my eyes and letting the unctuous, sweet liquid fill my mouth and gulping it down my throat. Whatever else was happening in my life this at these moments nothing could better my ecstatic response to this. It never failed. All I could think in my euphoric state was "Please do not stop". This made everything worth while. I could feel my mountainous body fill with the drink and my penis start to emerge from its fatty hiding place. I could no longer see it or fondle it but it was as responsive as ever. Oh! Please don't stop". These times made everything worthwhile.
I was now well over six hundred pounds now and moving about even in the flat with a walker was becoming increasingly difficult. I never ventured out now. It was just too difficult. Then one day Christian cheerily announced that he had a surprise for me. Later that day it arrived. It was a power chair which was designed to carry my weight. After some adjustments by the technician who delivered it, I was invited to sit in it. My stomach by now extended to my knees when I was sitting. The technician strapped me in, the positioning belt being concealed under rolls of fat. I was shown how to use all the controls and the joystick on the arm of the chair. The chair also tilted so I could move the weight off my buttocks to prevent pressure sores developing. I pushed the joystick forward gingerly and slowly navigated my way around the room. The turning circle was quite tight. I then drove the chair to the kitchen. The door was closed so I had to manoeuvre the chair at right angles to the door to open it and then backed and moved the chair forward. There was only about an inch clearance on either side so I would have to be very accurate at the controls. I returned to the living room and tried out the tilt mechanism. Slowly the chair tilted backwards. I felt a little vulnerable and I had to keep my weight centred not to unbalance the chair, which I was told was quite easy to do. I put the seat back to its normal position feeling I was getting the hang of this.
"Let's try it outside", I said. It had been several months or more since I had left the flat. We took the lift to the ground floor only to find that there was no ramp only stairs to the street outside.
"We'll have to tell the management about this, Fatboy", remarked Christian as we returned to the flat somewhat disappointed.
For the rest of the day I stayed in my chair until the carer came to put me to bed. The next morning without even asking I was helped into the chair and strapped in. I thought at least I could practice on the controls. What was immediately apparent as I glided around the flat and in and out of each of its rooms that I had my mobility restored. I could get around. There were certain difficulties. I was limited in the movement I could make. I could not easily turn my body in the chair so I faced in the same direction as the front of the chair. If an object was placed too high or low, I could not reach it. I was given a grab with a long handle to help me pick objects off the floor (yes, another piece of adaptive equipment) but it was not much use for, say, taking crockery out of a high cupboard or a book from a low shelf. So what I could reach was quite restricted and we had to move things about so the things I needed were at hand. As my legs often got in the way, I had to position the chair sideways to the kitchen counters if I wanted to prepare food. What I also realised that I could move about without the pains and breathlessness that had so restricted me. These were positive developments.
In the days that followed, a bariatric hoist was installed in my bedroom so it was easier to manoeuvre me out of bed and into my chair. Then a day or so later someone came to collect the specially designed chair I used in the living room to use as it was getting in the way of my power chair and there was not room for both. It was then the realisation struck me: I would never walk again and , indeed, I did not. In fact I never wore shoes again, They were not needed when I never placed my feet on the floor. In a matter of a few days my legs were sufficiently weak that I could no longer support my weight on them. I was now confined to my wheelchair for all my waking hours. Like all wheelchair users I had now to become accustomed to always be sitting in a standing world. I had to talk up to people who looked down on me.. I was no longer able to get my hands under my belly to unzip my flies and to point my penis towards a toilet. An insufficient length of my penis showed above the fat that encased it for it to be practical to use a condom catheter. So I had a foley catheter inserted and this was joined to a leg bag, which Christian or the carer emptied periodically through the day.
It took the management of the building about two weeks before a ramp was installed. I could now explore the outside world again. This was not as easy as I thought. Very little outside is perfectly flat. With my great weight, the centre of gravity of my chair was quite high with the result that there was always a risk of it falling over unless I was very careful. This limited where I could go and the exact route I could take and the speed I selected. But even within these confines I felt liberated. I was free to move about in a way I had not been able for at least a year.
Being now completely sedentary, the one faculty that remained undiminished was my ability and desire to eat and eat plentifully with the result my weight continued to increase. While I found that I had more energy as I was not tiring myself out with any physical exertion, I knew I was becoming weaker. I had less support in the trunk of my body and seldom lifted it away from the rest position against the back of the chair's seat. My arms too became weaker and it was simply more of an effort to move them so they generally rested on the arms of my chair.
I knew there was nothing I could do about the decline in my physical condition. The direction had already been set and I was powerless now to do anything about it. I was resigned to this provided I had access to sufficient food and could be regularly gorged with food in a manner which was out of my control. This Christian still did this for me but I sensed now it was less in a caring way and more almost in spite. I was just this blob who had become almost inhuman fit only to be stoked up with mountains of food and then sent away. What made matters worse was that Christian had a new boy friend. We were not designed to meet but I spied him coming and going from the vantage of my bedroom window. I was given strict instructions never to leave my room when he was here or to make a sound. I often wondered if he knew of my existence as I noticed that nothing personal to me was allowed anywhere in the flat except my bedroom. The new friend was Brian.
I often saw him as he walked down the street to the entrance of the block of flats. He was about twenty with a very English look: apple red cheeks, blue eyes and scruffy brown hair. He looked like someone that had always had a weight problem but had kept it under control to the best of his ability. When I first saw him he was chubby and just at that point when he was putting on more weight so his clothes were too tight for him. As he became a more regular visitor I could see that he was starting to put on more weight. One of the features of putting on weight, while everyone is a variation around a common theme, you cannot determine exactly where the weight will go. In Brian's case, he was bottom heavy so proportionately more weight went on his buttocks and thighs than his belly. From the noises in the flat I guessed that Christian was putting him through his paces by greatly increasing the calories he was consuming. There was no doubt the gainer shakes were creating their magic. In the months that followed Brian packed on the pounds. When I started on Christian's regimen I was naturally thin. Poor Brian was not and soon he had a fat arse and a muffin belly bulging over his trousers as his youthful chubbiness started to turn into serious fat. He had no chance; morbid obesity was just around the corner.
Even with the power chair I found I was going out less and after a while I abandoned any effort to leave the flat. The chair just seemed too unstable for outside use. As Christian did not want me around in case other friends particularly Brian came, I was essentially confined to my room. It was then that Christian suggested I move to a studio flat in the same block. I had no option but to agree. The flat was basically a bedsit with a small kitchen and bathroom. It was all I needed. So all my equipment was hauled upstairs and I was installed in the new flat.
As soon as I was gone, Brian moved in with Christian full time. With little company and little to do I was a fixture at the window watching his comings and goings. And yes, he was really gaining weight. I knew all the stages so well. He must now have topped 350 pounds and the familiar changes in posture of the morbidly obese were clearly showing. It was apparent that he was also slowing down as his weight took its toll. For all that, I thought he was looking great. Obesity suited him. Lucky that, because I am sure that he no longer had much control over that. What he would not experience is living with someone much more obese than he was. When I first met Christian he had been massive and it gave me an insight of what life carrying that kind of weight would be like. I found it an encouragement as it showed me that it was not only possible but enjoyable. There may be inconveniences being fat in a world that is not designed for people of great weight and being severely obese restricts what you can do physically or the time it takes, but you could live a perfectly fulfilling life and be very big. By this time Christian had really muscled up so that while still being a big man, probably 250 pounds, he cared no fat whatsoever. I think his new body made him a more aggressive, less sympathetic, encourager. He seemed to wield more power over his soon to be seriously obese protégé.
My weight still increased and I was becoming more dependent on carers who came three times a day now. In fact Christian was becoming a less frequent visitor. I not sure I missed him. He had given clear instructions what I should be fed and how frequently so meal times remained the highlight of an otherwise monotonous day. Irritatingly one of the carers misplaced my glasses and try as I might I could not find them. I was now far too fat to go to an optician and I was not that keen for one to come to see me in my present pathetic condition. So I went without them. This made my world even smaller. I am severely myopic and without my glasses I am technically blind. Beyond a radius of about three feet the world was now a blur. This did not matter much as I could still see a computer screen and used the iPlayer for television and Netflix for films, of which I must have been their best customer. But it meant that I could no longer observe Brian's progress so I had to imagine it in my mind. He must have topped four hundred pounds by now, I thought.
For some weeks now I have not left my bed and I do not think that I am strong enough to do so. Two weeks ago Christian was here with a qualified nurse who has inserted a feeding tube down my nostril to my stomach which is attached to a food pump which my carer regularly refills to I am now receiving a constant flow of liquid nutriments which is a very pleasant sensation as I doze through most of the day and sleep at night. For the most part I am not that aware of my surroundings,
I am really just a semi-comatose large lump of fat. I am completely immobile. I am fed through a tube, I urinate through a tube and my bowels are evacuated through a tube. Periodically I am rolled over to prevent pressure sores. Daily I am given a blanket bath and shaved. Every few weeks my hair is buzz cut to keep it under control. I do not dress at all and I am only covered by a sheet and blanket. Any notions of personal privacy or dignity have gone. All I know is that my stomach is kept satisfactorily full. I can still enjoy that sensation. I do not have the energy to use my computer except for short periods. As I cannot see the television clearly enough, I listen to the radio through earphones. Listen is probably to active a verb. I am aware of the radio playing but I could not tell you from one hour to the next what was being said or played. Concentration is an effort too so I have no idea whether this will be my last entry into my story or not. My mind often turns to Brian. I wonder if he know what the end game will be. Maybe that is why Christian is so determined for him not to meet me. Then I have not seen Christian for a while either. Maybe I never will.
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