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Inflation Part 1
Ever since I can remember, I have been fascinated by fat men with large bellies. This bizarre interest started at about the age of five. Whenever there was a family gathering or some similar event, I would make for the fattest man in the room and hang around him. I never made fun of or passed rude remarks to these men. I adored them and wanted to surround myself with as many of them as possible. Even then I knew that this was what I wanted to be like, when I grew up. I would always ensure that they had a steady supply of food and drink. I was very careful to observe there gastronomic preferences, as I thought that emulation of their eating habits would help me to grow into the sort of man I wanted to be.|
The years passed and I was definitely growing up to be skinny. At about the age of nine I started to play a little game that relieved my longings for brief periods, whenever I was left in the house alone. I would stuff a cushion up my shirt front and admire the bulge in the bedroom mirror. While engaged in this pleasant pastime, I would fantasise about my life as an adult. I imagined myself with a job in London and taking long lunch breaks, during which I would visit three or four restaurants for lunch. I would return home to eat three of four dinners during the evening. I saw myself as such an immensely obese guy that people would point at me and make comments as I walked down the street. At other times I imagined going to Japan and joining a Sumo stable. I had read with relish all about the sport. Not only did it offer the possibility of limitless weighting gain in a fat-accepting environment, there was the erotic potential. The thought of competing and training every day with all of those big-bellied wrestlers really excited me and gave me my first erections, although I was still to young to have an orgasm or even to know what sex was about. My other favourite fantasy, while playing this game, was the thought of moving to America and setting upa commune of people with desires like my own. It was very gratifying to imagine a little town populated entirely with big, fat men, whose main aim in life was to grow their already vastly distend paunches even bigger.
At the age of twelve I was still playing my little game, when left in the house alone but now I would put on some of my father’s old, discarded clothes. He was a big man with a 44” waist. I would wear his shirt and overalls and cram them with as much stuffing of pillows and cushions as I could squeeze into them. It was during one of these sessions that I first discovered ejaculation. I was interested in having a large, low-slung belly and so I was pushing the stuffing down as had as I could. I had an erection and the mass of pillows and cushions was pressing hard against it. I pushed it downwards with all of my strength. I was sweating profusely, gasping for breath, my whole body shaking with excitement. Suddenly I felt a strange, warm, rushing sensation in my cock. It was the most delicious feeling I had ever had. It lasted for about half a minute and then I collapsed in a heap on the floor, exhausted from this delirious and mind-blowing new experience. I stripped myself of my father’s clothes and my prosthetic belly of cushions to find that my underpants we filled with a wet sticky substance. I did not understand for several weeks what had happened. Over the years, I repeated this activity hundreds of times. Thus it came to be that I firmly associated orgasms with huge round bellies.
The years passed and I left home and started work. I would drool over fat men, whenever I came across them but I did nothing to realise the desires, of which I was somewhat ashamed. Occasionally I would stuff a cushion up my shirt and wank myself of. This was to be my only source of sexual pleasure for many years.
At the age of 36 I left England for New Zealand to take up a new job. Once in Auckland my obsession became all consuming. I thought of fat men all of the time. I had still put on no weight and remained at the meagre 145 pound that I had been since the age of 18. Just stuffing a cushion up my shirt no longer satisfied me. I wanted to be immensely fat. So, I would visit the Big and Tall shops to by clothes, which I claimed were for my stepfather, who had a 64” waist. This was a frustrating activity, as they always wanted to palm me of with clothes that were smaller than I wanted. I just wanted to tell the shop assistant, "Look I just want the largest tops and pants that you’ve got. " Eventually, after couple years I found a shop in one of the suburbs, which stocked buttoned shirts, polo shirts, T-shirts and pants up to size 10XL. I stocked up my wardrobe with them.
For a while I would have a lot of fun with these extra large garments. I would come home from work and dress in them. I no longer used cushions and pillows to stuff my clothes. I used the largest plastic bin-liners that I could buy. I would tie one to a length of plastic tubing, so that once I had a top and pants on I could blow the bag up as large as possible. It also had the advantage of producing a prosthetic belly with a much better texture and shape. I would admire this jutting belly in the mirror and go about my household tasks in my new fat suit. It was good to have a 78” belly, if only for a few hours. As my obsession grew I spent more and more of my time at home as a fat man. On weekend nights I would get quite drunk so that I could go to bed and sleep in my fat suit. While I was wearing it, I constantly oozed pre cum. As I cooked and washed the dishes my belly would bump into things and the sensation of being so large that it was difficult to move around my apartment gave me a great deal of pleasure. However, my sexual activities were still solitary. I longed for two things. Firstly I wanted a partner that was fat and that I could be fat with. Secondly, I longed to remove my 10XL garments and find underneath them not a blown-up plastic bag but a real belly with real flab.
One day I was glancing through the personal columns of a gay magazine, when I noticed and advert from another chaser, who wanted a chub for a partner. I replied to his advert and told him that I was skinny but that I was a chaser and that perhaps we could help each other by sharing fantasies and searching for fat men together. A couple of weeks later he called me and we arranged to meet in a coffee shop. His name was Michael. I did not know what to expect. I arrived at our meeting place half-an-hour early and ordered a cup of coffee. I waited and waited. The suspense was excruciating. Finally a man came up to me and asked in a soft Irish accent, "Excuse, me are you Dave?”
"Yes,” I replied and asked him if he would like a cup of coffee. He accepted the offer and I ordered two more coffees. Michael was about the same height as me, about 5’ 11” tall. He was very slim. I would guess that he weighed less than 140lbs, not exactly what turned me on, but I kept in mind that that was not what I was looking for in him. We made small talk but found it very uncomfortable to really open up to each other in public. So, I invited him back to my place.
Michael and I talked until the small hours about our desires. It turned out that he liked really obese men too and that he shared my desire to be fat and my despair at not being able to gain weight.
We met up frequently after that first night. Sometime we would stay home and just fantasize about grotesquely obese men. At other times we would do the rounds of the saunas and clubs picking up the fattest men we could find. It was great fun.
Once I felt that I could trust Michael with my secret dressing-up sessions, I told him about my fat suit. He seemed fascinated and said that he would like to try it out. So, I took him into the bedroom. We stripped and both put on 10XL polo shirts and pants. I showed him how to position the bin-liner and blow it up to the best effect. He stared at himself in the mirror.
"This is how I want to be,” he said, rubbing his hands over his vast prosthetic belly. He moaned with delight at the discovery that he could not get his hands all the way around it.
I cooked dinner and we sat on the sofa to eat it in front of the television. After eating we spent hours kissing each other and caressing each other’s large artificial bellies Finally, we went to bed together. He sucked me off. As the warm rush of cum exploded into his mouth, I was in ecstasy. The climax seemed to last for minutes and I squirmed with delight. I did the same for him with similar results. Afterwards we slept with our make-believe bellies firmly pressed against each other.
After a few months the novelty of this activity wore off. There was something very unsatisfying about not being able to take one’s clothes off, while having hot sex.
Michael and I soon moved into an apartment together. We spent most of our evenings having fat fantasies. We amassed a large collection of porn magazines and videos made specially for the chubs and chasers market. At the weekends we went out seducing fat men. We soon had a large number of Auckland’s most obese men calling at our apartment on a regular basis. We had an agreement that if one of us found a man, who preferred the other one of us, to retire gracefully, so as to avoid fruitless competition between the two of us. However, the was still something missing and I think that Michael felt this lack almost as acutely as I did. I started to find it difficult to sleep and concentrate. My appetite was gone and I was losing weight. I was grumpy and irritable all the time. On Michael’s suggestion, I visited my doctor, who said that he thought that I was suffering from depression and referred me to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist confirmed the diagnosis of acute depression and prescribed a drug called Clomipramine. He told me that it would be a month or two before it cured the depression but that it would help with sleep immediately. He did not explain the side effects of the drug and so I was unaware of the beautiful transformation that it would bring to my life.
The first night that I took the medication I slept soundly, dropping off the moment my head hit the pillow. I awoke to feel quite refreshed but my mood was still very low. Nevertheless, I felt reassured of recovery, as the psychiatrist had said that the drug would assist with sleep before it helped with my depression. The next day I ate three square meals and had a small snack during my tea breaks. This was another sign that I was returning to "normality”. However, during the next few days I found that I could neither reach a climax nor ejaculate. In fact, it was difficult to maintain an erection at all. This did little to help my depression despite Michael’s suggestion that perhaps this was a side-effect of the drug, which would pass as my system became accustomed to it.
A couple of weeks later, Michael went out cruising the saunas by himself. Usually, I would have accompanied him but I saw little point in the exercise with my current sexual dysfunction. I watched TV and ate snacks. I also knocked back four cans of strong lager. Michael returned at about 11.00p.m. accompanied my a guy called Paul. Paul was an immense man. He was slightly shorter than me at about 5’ 9’’ but he must have weighed about 350lbs. He was a handsome beast with unkempt black hair, dazzling blue eyes and a thick moustache. His cheeks were well rounded and his lips full and red and ripe for kissing. His arms, legs and buttocks were immensely thick and manly. But what struck me the most was his huge, round belly, which jutted out abruptly below his soft, bulbous breasts and protruded over his belt by a good six inches. His denim shirt and pants made him look very sexy. I felt my cock swell and throb achingly in my pants. I could not take my eyes off him and it was soon very obvious that he could not stop staring at me either. Michael recognised the situation for what it was and reacted in accordance with our agreement.
"Look,” he said, "you obviously fancy Dave more than you do me and he’s eyeing you up. So, why don’t you go for it?”
Paul blushed and did not know what to say in response to such candour.
"It’s all right,” continued Michael. "We have an agreement about this sort of situation happening. Go with the one of us you prefer and the other one will leave you to it with no hard feelings.”
"I don’t know what to say,” mumbled Paul. "Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”
"You two settle down on the sofa together and I will whip you up some refreshments, before I retire,” said Michael and disappeared into the kitchen. He returned to place a tray of assorted snacks and a four pack of lager in front of us. Then he went to bed in the spare bedroom. Paul devoured most of the food and guzzled down three of the beers, while we made small talk. I could not keep my eyes off his voluminous belly. I wanted to touch it, hold it, caress it, press myself against it but I was too shy too do or say anything because of my sexual difficulties.
"What do you do?” he asked.
"I’m a computer programmer,” I replied. "What about you?”
"I run a karate club,” he said.
I was a little surprised that such a huge man could be involved in such a sport. So, I asked him, "And do you do karate yourself?”
"No,” he replied. "I used to be a black belt at karate but these days I’m a bit big for it. It’s not fair on the other guys. These days I do Sumo wrestling.” My eyes lit up with interest and I told him that I would like to see him in action.
"Do you mind me asking...” he enquired tentatively. "but what exactly is the arrangement with you two guys.”
"Well,” I explained, "we’re like brothers. We live together, we sleep together and we share the same tastes in men but we’re not on together. We have an agreement that if one of us pulls a guy that prefers the other one to bow out gracefully. Sometimes we share boyfriends but when it’s a one-on-one situation one of us sleeps in the spare bedroom. Michael isn’t upset about what happened this evening. In the morning he’ll bring us breakfast in bed. That’s part of our arrangement, too.”
"So, you both prefer big, fat guys like me?” he asked.
"Yes,” I explained, "and to be more specific, we’re both into big bellies.” At this juncture, I summoned up the courage to put my hand across and stroke the magnificently sweeping curve of his extensive belly. "There’s just one thing...” I continued.
"What’s that?” he asked.
"I’ve had five of these strong lagers,” I said. "So, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get up to very much.”
"Hey, little guy,” he reassured me, "there’s no pressure to perform. We just do what we can and enjoy snuggling up together.”
"Then. let’s go to bed,” I suggested.
In the bedroom, Paul flexed his body a little, doing what we obviously some of his Sumo exercises. I was amazed to see him do the splits sideways and then lean forwards until his nose touched the ground, his vast paunch spreading out sideways as it was compressed under his weight. This man had all of the grace, strength and agility of a top ballet dancer. Then he walked over to me put his hands and my hips and drew me over to the bed to sit beside him. He place my hand upon the topmost button of his shirt and stared to quickly unbutton my shirt from the top downwards. I put my hand on his to restrain him.
"I want this to last a long time,” I said.
Paul murmured his agreement to this suggestion and slowed down. I undid his top couple of buttons to reveal his chubby breasts, covered in enticing swirls of jet black hair. I slipped a hand inside his shirt to fondle these two soft mounds and rub his nipples to the point of erection. He unbuttoned my shirt all the way down and untucked from my pants, then put his chunky hands around my waist. I continued to slowly unbutton his shirt to expose the top of his sensuously swollen gut, which was also covered in dense dark hair. I shuddered with excitement.
"What’s the matter?” he asked. "Your hands are shaking.”
"It’s the excitement,” I replied. "This is the bit that really turns me on, your beautiful, big, round belly. There’s so much of it.” He pressed me against his huge body in a tight bear hug.
I continued to pop his buttons open. Those about his bulky middle were ready to pop open by themselves under the straining mass of belly fat. Finally, I tugged his shirt from under his waistband and removed it completely. His entire body glistened in the soft light and rippled with voluptuous fat.
I turned my attention to his tightly bucked belt. As I undid it, it sprang suddenly from my grasp and his swollen gut pushed forwards another couple of inches. He ripped my shirt off and undid my pants, making me lie down while he slid them and my boxer shorts off onto the floor. Then he laid back and allowed me to do the same for him. I got down on top of him and a shudder of delight convulsed my entire body as I felt myself engulfed in adipose tissue. I placed my hands on his overspilling love handles, feeling very consciously how splendidly wide he was. I kissed his soft, moist lips and ran my hands over the over brimming bulges of his immensely obese torso.
I moved down to stimulate his large nipples with my tongue. He groaned with delight as I did this. They were obviously a major erogenous zone for him. I slowly proceeded towards his mountainous, blubbery belly, being careful to continue massaging his nipples with my hand. I finally reached his balls and cock. I sucked each testicle alternately into my mouth and swilled them around. Like everything else about this guy, the were king-size. This sent him into spasms of ecstasy and cause his engorged member to swell even bigger. It throbbed and thrashed against his jutting lower belly. As the intensity of his pleasure grew, he groaned louder and louder. I thrust his thick cock into my mouth and worked its throbbing glans with my tongue, simultaneous massaging its shaft with one had, while the other hand continued to play his nipples. I deliberately held him at the point of orgasm as long as I could but eventually I had worked him up into such a fury that I had to let him shoot his load. His cum burst forth in torrents. There seemed to be gallons of it. I swallowed and choked. It spurted forth for minutes. I wondered if I was going to burst.
Paul hauled me up alongside him grunting like a pig with the pleasure of the experience. He rested for a moment before scrambling down the bed to suck my meat between his fat lips. He worked and worked my cock. The sensation was delicious and I lingered at the point of orgasm but could not reach a climax. Fearing that he would tire, I placed both hands about his head and pulled it away.
"What’s the matter?” he asked looking up into my face in bewilderment
"That felt great,” I explained, "but tonight it’s not going to be enough to make me shoot.”
He lay beside me and asked, "Do you want to fuck me?”
"No,” I replied, "I don’t think that that will work either.”
"Tell me what you want, little fella,” he insisted.
"I want this,” I said, swirling my hand about his protuberant abdomen.
He understood my need and pressed his distended belly against my flat abs. I bumped my belly back and forth against his. He followed my lead, repeatedly thrusting his paunch against my writhing body. His meaty hand grabbed my pulsating cock and massaged it up and down. As I squirmed with delight, he shoved his balloon belly hard and harder against my body and his grip upon my bursting shaft tightened. I was dripping with sweat, seeking his full, round lips and nuzzling against his flabby double chin. The bed creaked and groaned under the weight of his heaving frame. The whole apartment was shaking. What would Michael and the neighbours be thinking. I could hear Michael moving about but I didn’t give a damn.
"You’re so fat.” I gasped with the last breath left in my breast.
Paul took this as a cue to my impending climax and thrust his bloated belly against me with all of his might. He clenched my cock as hard as he could. He put his other arm around me, so that I was totally enveloped by his blubbery bulk. My sperm shop six feet in the air and land over the both of us in shower after milky white shower. My orgasm over, I kissed my gorgeous beached whale of a man all over and thanked him profusely.
"Which way do you want to sleep?” he asked.
"This way,” I said, pulling him towards me so that our bellies touched. We fell asleep belly to belly.
The next morning, there was a knock at the bedroom door and Michael burst in with breakfast on a tray. There were two plates mounted high with pancakes, American style, doused in maple syrup and cream. On these occasions, breakfast was always a highly calorific affair. If one of us had the pleasure of bedding the guy the other one was at least allowed the pleasure of fattening him up a bit. And there were gallons of sweet, creamy coffee.
Paul launched into the food like a ravenous wolf stuffing it into his mouth and gulping it down by the handful. I emulated him as well as I could. Having eaten and swilled back all of the coffee, we lay back. I felt stuffed to bursting point but I thought that this gargantuan breakfast would have hardly taxed Paul’s huge capacity for gluttony. Paul let out a huge belch and then rubbed his hand up and down my abdomen.
"Hey, little guy,” he said, "if you go packing food away like that, those abs of yours wont stay flat for much longer.”
Paul and I made the most of our last hour in bed, massaging and fondling each other, making romantic small talk and repeating all of the sexual pleasure of the previous night.
Over the next few months Paul and I developed our relationship. I also had encounters with several other large men. Eventually, I realise that the medication had not made me completely dysfunctional as regards sex. It just made it impossible for me to get off with anyone who was less than immensely obese. So, I did not mind this side effect, as this was where my natural inclinations lay in any case.
About two months into my treatment, Michael and I were lounging on the sofa one evening after dinner. He patted me on the tummy and said, "You know, you’re beginning to grow a bit of a gut.”
I looked down and saw that my abs were not quite as flat and firm as they used to be. "This past week my pants have been feeling a bit tight. I’ll just go and weigh myself.” I returned from the bathroom to announce. "One hundred and fifty-five pounds.”
"That’s not much,” said Michael in discouraging jealousy. "Just ten pounds in two months.”
"It’s over a pound a week. This time next year I could be over two hundred pounds.”
Before going to bed that night I stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror. I looked at myself in profile and pushed my belly out as far as it would go. It’s not much of a gut, I thought, but it’s real and it’s mine. My depression seemed to vanish instantly.
The next day I searched the Internet for information on Clomipramine and found that its side effects included sexual dysfunction, increased appetite and weight gain. I hatched a scheme for maximising my weight gain. I needed to get more Clomipramine and I needed to increase my calorific intake. So, I started to eat as much as I could. I bought diet books and calorie charts to ensure that I selected all of the most fattening foods. I shared my plan with Michael, who agreed to help me as much as he could.
One night, Paul came to our place and we had a marathon love-making session. I thought that the house would fall down it shook so much is Paul’s huge bulk bumped up and down on the bed. As we settled down to go to sleep I asked him if he would still love me, if I was fat.
"You mean as fat as me?” he asked with a laugh.
"Or even fatter,” I said.
He patted my little paunch and said. "You get as fat as you like. I’ll always love you.”
With that I fell into a deep and satisfying sleep, dreaming of ballooning up to an unbelievable size.
At my next appointment with the psychiatrist I told him that I was feeling more depressed than ever and had constant thoughts of suicide. It wasn’t true but I wanted more of the appetite stimulating drug. The ruse worked and he prescribed double the dosage. I was overjoyed. Michael and I went out to celebrate and I ate the biggest dinner that I had ever eaten in my life. My increasing appetite soon turned into gluttony.
Over the next few weeks we monitored my weight very carefully and found that it averaged out to about a four pound increase per week. At the end of two more months, I weighed in at 190lb. Paul Michael and I celebrated by having a pizza eating contest at home. Paul won hands down with six pizzas, I came a close second with five and poor old Michael could hardly keep up with us.
Paul caressed by inflating belly and said, "Keep eating like that and you’ll soon be as fat as me.” The thought delighted me. I had already had to buy some new clothes as my waist was now an expansive 42”. I bought everything very much on the large side to allow for projected gains.
Paul suggested that I should come along to his Sumo club, which I had been intending to do as a spectator for some time. Now, Paul was urging me to be a wrestler. It was fun but I have to admit that most of the members were men of average build. There were only a few really big guys wrestling but I enjoyed watching them and enjoyed the thought that one day I might eventually get into the doh yo (Sumo wrestling ring) with them.
Now everything was going my way. I was getting lots of encouragement from Paul, Michael and the Sumo Club. The Clomipramine was having the desired side effects and I had increased my capacity for food considerably. I was now eating six main meals a day.
A further year passed. It was my birthday. We invited Paul and some of the wrestlers to our flat for a "dinner party”, which was our polite, very British way of saying marathon pig out. We had the food and beer laid on by caterers so as not to have to interrupt the binging. By the end of the evening we were all stuffed to bursting point and could hardly move. Michael felt a bit left out, as he was the only slim guy there. The evening finished with the most important event of all, my weigh in. We brought the scales into the living area and I stepped onto them. I clocked up a stupendous 340lb. I turned to Paul and said, "Hey, I’m catching you up.”
"Not so fat, big boy,” said Paul and stepped onto the scales to show that he was now up to 405lb.
After the other guests had left, Paul, Michael and I sat up to do some serious talking. as Michael seemed a little down.
"You seem a little downhearted,” I said. "Are you going to tell us what’s the matter?”
"I feel a little jealous,” Michael replied coyly.
"What of?” asked Paul.
"You two are blowing up like a couple of overinflated barrage balloons,” he said, "and I still haven’t got an ounce of fat on me.”
"If you want to start gaining,” I told him, "I’ll do all that I can to help you.”
"Me, too”, Paul threw in.
"But you know that that’s not possible,” Michael objected, almost bursting into tears.
"Eighteen months ago, I thought that it wasn’t possible for me,” I retorted.
"I used to be thin too,” added Paul.
Michael stared at him in disbelief.
"Tomorrow,” I said, "We’ll put a plan of action together. I found something that worked. We’ll find something that works for you. Paul and I are going out to buy new clothes tomorrow but when we get back we start searching the net to see what other people do to put on weight. We’ll try everything.”
"That goes for me, too,” said Paul. "You’ve helped fatten me up a bit. Now, it’s my turn to do the same for you.” He hesitated a little. "Look, I think that it’s best if I went home tonight. You guys have a lot of issues to get through. But I’ll see you both tomorrow and I promise you, Michael, we’ll work something out.”
Paul left and Michael and I went to bed. I dressed Michael in his 10XL clothes and blew up the bin liner to give him an artificial belly thinking that this would cheer him up. I no longer needed any prosthetics to get Michael off as I now had a huge belly of my own. Nothing, however, seemed to cheer him up. Paul was aware that we still had sex together but knew that there was nothing in it but two close friends alleviating each other’s frustration.
The next day the three of us went out shopping at the largest outsize clothing store in Auckland. I now had a 64” waist and Paul’s girth measured 68”. We asked for clothes a size or two too big to allow for further expansion. Mr. Maani, a middle-aged Indian gentleman, who usually served us, was now familiar with Paul and me and our fastidious requirements for clothing that would both show off our impressive bellies and still allow for further growth. We bought a whole new wardrobe each and had to order a taxi to ferry all of our purchases back home.
Michael was obviously feeling very left out by all of this footmen’s business. He had hardly said a word all day. Paul and I dumped all of our new gear in the spare bedroom and logged onto the Internet immediately. Before long we had found a number of interesting sites catering for people desiring not just to gain wait but to become monstrously fat. We discovered that there were all manner of products available, high-calorie shakes, appetite stimulants, steroids and growth hormones.
"This is all very interesting,” said Paul. "I wish I had known about this years ago. If I had known I wouldn’t be as thin as I am now.”
This aroused Michael’s interest and he came to peruse the information displayed on the screen. "Wow, it looks as though anybody can do this. Give me the keyboard. Let me put in an order for some of this stuff.”
"Let’s sit down and work out a bulk order for the three of us,” Paul suggested.
"What’s this mean, ‘Have you tried inflation?’” I asked pointing at a question on the screen.
Paul frowned, being as obviously puzzled by the term as I was. My imagination was taken by the word and I imagined bellies being inflated to gigantic sizes with air just like big balloons. How did inflation work, who did it and where was it available? None of the sites we found gave any clue what was meant by inflation in this context. To me it mattered little whether a belly was swollen with fat or gas, just as long as it was huge. Over the next few months I would often think about inflation.
I was drawn back from my reverie buy the pressing need to agree on a bulk order. We had a heated debate over our needs but in the ended decided to place an initial order for one month’s supply of gainer shake, appetite stimulant pills, steroids and growth hormone, which were delivered within seven days.
I made an appointment to see my psychiatrist to tell him that I was no longer depressed and felt that I could come off the Clomipramine. I had to see him once a week for a month, while the dosage was reduced, so that he could monitor me for withdrawal symptoms. However, there were none. The last time I saw him, he concluded with the words, "And, by the way, your weight should return to normal now.” For a moment, I felt pangs of disappointment and then I thought to myself, "I’ll show you what fucking normal is.”
Our regime was one of mainlining steroids and growth hormone several times a day, swallowing appetite stimulant pills by the handful and an obscene orgy of continual gluttony. Paul and I ate eight main meals a day, supplemented by snacks and gallons of gainer shake, which contained 3,000 calories per glass. Michael struggled to keep up with us. We were gaining by the day and so put in a repeat order for the gainer products.
Michael was now the main focus of attention, as he was so desperately unhappy with his svelte form. After two months on his new diet, he weighed himself. He had risen from 135lb to 165 lb.
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