| This is all true, only a name, not mine, has been changed.
Hi, I'm Kevin. I come from an ordinary family, living in an ordinary street, in an ordinary English midland town. I cannot remember my father as he walked out when I was a baby and never returned. Life then continued on a largely uneventful path as I grew up until the day when my mum's partner moved in. Soon after that they started a family and in time I found I had two step sisters. The problem was my step father hated me and doted on his daughters. I was always made to feel a nuisance and unwelcome in my own home, which made me the target of my step Dad's vindiction and violence. It was also made obvious that the moment I left school I should leave home as well. Mum made a few efforts to protest against this ultimatum but quickly caved in as she did with any other issue which pitted me against my step dad. At school I could have gone on to take A-Levels but I did not see much point in that. School itself was largely a drudge and, as everyone else in my class had decided to leave at the first available opportunity, I did the same.
As a sixteen year old I was slightly built, being about five foot four and weighing about 120 pounds (I think in stones, but pounds are probably more comprehensible to readers, if there are any, elsewhere). I am blonde haired, which usually looked like an untidy haystack, and fair skinned. To my annoyance I looked much younger than my age. Indeed, I could have been taken for a thirteen year old. Also, I had poor eye sight from the start. So for as long as I can remember, actually before I could remember, I blinked out at the world through thick convex lenses. I hated my glasses but I was saddled with them. As a boy I was neither popular or unpopular. Certainly, unlike at home, I was not one of those boys who were picked on; teased a bit but not much more. I was just one of those lads on the periphery of everything. I also knew I was gay. I don't know how, I just knew. I had not done anything about it. I had not come out. I did not have the courage, given the rampant homophobia of both my step dad and the other boys in my class. I was a virgin. Even before leaving school I was a fairly regular, if surreptitious, visitor to various gay web-sites, looking for a relationship and a life changing experience but uncertain exactly what that would be.
On leaving home, I moved into digs with some other school leavers. The place was a slum but that was all I could afford out of some part-time work and my Job Seeker's allowance. Like most of my contemporaries I had entered the real world with little to offer it in the way of skills or qualifications and in our run-down post-industrial town the opportunities for work, even minimum wage work, were fairly thin on the ground. Here my internet search continued in secret. I had chatted with a number of guys but I did not warm to them. They were all over me. Then I came across Richard. He was different; he seemed sincere and thoughtful. Soon I was talking and WhatsApping him frequently. He asked everything about me: everything. What struck me as a little odd at the time was his insistence on knowing exactly how much a weighed and the dimensions of body which required me to buy a tape measure so I could relay the measurements of my height, my neck, shoulders, chest, waist, hips, thighs calves and various circumferences down my arms. If he was able, he had enough information to make a suit for me. But he knew much more about me that that. He knew what interested me, my education and family life , who my friends were and what I liked to do for relaxation. I knew a little about him too, although the questioning was much more insistent the other way. He was good looking, in his mid-forties, and was an engineer by profession who had branched out to start his own equipment and construction companies. So he was well off too.
Then the invitation came. Would I like to come and stay with him? Stay as long as I liked? I would have to do what I was told or else he would have to kick me out. He could not have a pain in the neck living with him. I understood that it was up to me to fit into his life, not the other way round. I readily accepted. I had nothing to lose. Home was closed to me and my current lodgings were a tip. I agreed on the spot; this was my ticket out. I was sent the rail fare and some taxi money and told to turn up the day I received it. I should not bring anything with me. I spent the following day throwing my few meager possessions away in the expectation that the money would arrive. It did to my great relief. I had paid the rent to the end of the month, although it was the beginning of September and felt I was free to go. My room mates saw it differently but that was tough. I knew I was burning my bridges and could not care. I was off! That's all that counted!
I set off early the next morning for a train that took me to a northern city about a seventy miles from home or, I hoped, where home used to be. I knew what to expect before I arrived as I had seen many photographs of Richard's house both inside and out. Yet when I arrived it seemed more luxurious than I had imagined. I had never been in a rich man's home before. After he had shown me around downstairs, he took me up to my bedroom. It was small but well furnished. In fact I had never slept in a room as well appointed as this. Once I had had a good look around, he asked me to empty my pockets and then strip off. He took everything I owned, including to my consternation my cigarettes and lighter, and tossed them into a black plastic bin bag. He knew I smoked as I had told him but I had not appreciated that he objected to the habit. And habit it was; I had been smoking now for about three years, like most of my mates. I immediately felt withdrawal pangs on being denied a smoke. Luckily I had had a fag after paying for the taxi but before entering the house.
"This is a no smoking house", he informed me sternly.
"Stuff it", I responded grumpily.
"You'll get over it soon enough", he chuckled. "Any road it's unhealthy". It was only later that I appreciated the irony of this remark.
I was then led to the bathroom and asked to shave off all my pubic and under-arm hair and to rub depilatory cream over any part of my body which had any hair. I had yet to start to shave and what bodily hair I did have was really just a blonde fluff. He then took out some clippers and buzz cut my hair on the #0 setting so afterwards I basically had no hair left at all. This made my ears look if they stuck out much more than they used and made me look like a two-handled bespectacled jug. After that I showered. Once I had dried off, Richard asked me to stand on the scales. They were not your usual bathroom scales but a much more accurate scales like the ones you see in a gym with a weight being moved across an horizontal, notched bar.
"One hundred and nineteen pounds", he said having finished adjusting the scales. "You certainly need building up".
I did not really understand what he meant. I thought my body looked pretty good. There was no flab on it and I was in reasonable physical shape, even if I didn't do much in the way of exercise apart from the occasional jog. He then led me back to my bedroom.
"Have you worn these before?" he asked holding up a plastic-backed, disposable nappy.
"Not since I was a toddler", I replied, "and I'm not going to now.".
"Don't be a smart arse with me. Do as you're told and, put it on. You will be wearing nappies day and night from now on like it or not. So get used to them, buster", he replied. There was not a hint of friendliness in his voice. In fact it was not a tone I had heard from him before and I did not like it much. There was a menace in it. "Actually, you have probably forgotten how, Get on the bed and I will put it on for you". This he proceeded to do and then to hand me some creamy white plastic pants to wear over them.
"You can dress now", he said. With that he opened the fitted cupboards in which were two tracksuit bottoms, black and navy with white stripes down the sides in imitation of Adidas. several polo shirts of different colours, two hoodies, some black no show socks, a hooded parka and a pair of black trainers of the sort primary school children wear. Nothing was remotely fashionable and as far as I could see everything was in hard-wearing polyester . "Put whatever you want on", he ordered and I followed his instructions. Everything I put on fitted. "No wonder he asked for all my measurements", I thought, "He wanted everything he bought me to fit". In retrospect this was completely naïve of me. The wardrobe was selected with a different practical objective in mind.
Then it was downstairs again, my plastic pants making a swishing noise against my track pants as I walked which made me very self conscious about wearing a nappy. "Have you had anything to eat?" he asked lightening up after the stern orders he had given earlier.
"No, I skipped breakfast to get here early", I replied.
"You must be starving", he answered. And so I was. "However, before you do, drink some of this. It's good for you and will build you up. Have it morning and night." Saying this, he put two heaped teaspoons of powder into a glass, added water to it and then stirred. He handed it to me and I drank it down. It tasted unexpectedly nice, like vanilla. Later I realised I was taking a protein powder to increase my calorie intake.
"Building up, what building up?" I asked myself.
When I had finished the drink, the doorbell rang and Richard went to answer it. While I was showering he had made a Burger King home delivery order. I could hear the front door shut. Then Richard came into the kitchen and assembled the order on the kitchen table directly in front of the chair nearest to me. From the bag came two Double Stackers, a large portion of both french fries and onion rings and a Dutch apple pie.
"I can't eat all of that!" I exclaimed.
"You don't have to, just eat as much as you like", he replied. As I started to eat, it was clear that Richard was not going to have any part of the meal. It seemed ungrateful in the face of this generosity and plenty to hold back so I ploughed through the meal eating every last scrap. I felt my stomach was ready to burst. In the afternoon I was offered regular glasses of Coke and crisps and other snacks. It seemed that Richard was being kind to his new guest and I reciprocated by consuming everything that I was offered, even if I really did not want it. While I was having increasing pangs of hunger as I yearned for a cigarette, I felt full the whole time and at times nauseous. The evening came and another huge meal was delivered to the house from Pizza Hut which included a whole pizza with all the toppings, garlic bread and a pudding. All this was washed down with more Coke. I felt I would explode. But I could not say no as I did not want to cause offence on my first day. When I went to bed, hardly being able to move, there was a glass of protein drink waiting for me on the bedside table. Then this started to become a routine. When breakfast came, if we did not go out to enjoy a breakfast platter at a fast food restaurant, I say "we" but I consumed nearly everything, as Richard had a birdlike appetite, there were sugary cereals with milk and extra sugar, a pile of croissants with butter and jam and pain au chocolat. Rather than have a tea or coffee, I just drank more Coke. Then the day continued with a constant supply of Coke and snacks. Somehow I was eating Pringles by the box and crisps from the largest packets, with a substantial meals punctuating this interim grazing. No meal went by without a large quantity of french fries and most of what I ate was in the junk food category, such as burgers, hot dogs, donuts, sausage rolls, pizza and pasta, even if we ate at home without ordering in.
During this time Richard also took me for expeditions around the country as part of an education that was entirely overlooked at school. I had never travelled before and I really looked forward to these trips away from home. It also opened many opportunities of stuffing myself in fast food restaurants in the towns we visited and in the motorway services along the way. The car was never without litre bottle of Coke, sweets and snacks. At each evening stop we cleared the car out of its many empty packages and wrappings then started again the next morning with fresh supplies.
What was becoming apparent was that I was being built up but not as quickly as you would have expected. My metabolism was fighting back heroically. After a month or so I was a little softer and more rounded but not really noticeably so. What was changing was my appetite. What had been rather an effort became second nature. I became completely used to large meals and snacking in between. In fact my appetite did not seem satisfied by what I was consuming. I seemed always hungry and always ready for more. I looked forward to meal times almost as soon as the last meal was over. I also felt that however much Coke I drank, my thirst was not really quenched with the result that I was constantly thirsty and constantly drinking more Coke. I was consuming more than three litres of the stuff each day. As it is a diuretic, it also made me urinate constantly, necessitating regular nappy changes, but that is another story. My weight was also starting to increase more noticeably. A little paunch was starting which delighted Richard. He could not keep his hands off it or the love handles which were emerging at my sides. I also started growing out of my clothes, which were replaced by identical ones in a larger size. Actually the changes were hardly noticeable so I was hardly aware of the weight I was putting on.
When Christmas came we feasted throughout the holiday. At the weigh in at the end of the month Richard was delighted with progress. Since I had been with him I had put on 35 pounds. Although I did not see it myself I was officially in the overweight category and a more prominent pot belly was starting to emerge over my waistband which mesmerised Richard. Indeed, as my weight stated to increase, our sex life blossomed. By now I had moved out of the guest bedroom into his.
The pattern of my life did not alter that much. Richard felt I needed educating before I started to face the world and gain a useful qualification, so I spent time reading and studying when I wasn't playing on games, or on my I-phone of I-pad. I was happily settled in my new way of life, which included eating and drinking more than I needed. When my birthday came around in March, Richard thought to weigh me again in commemoration. I hit the scales at 180 pounds, which for the first time put me officially in the obese category. Richard could not contain his happiness at this mile stone, although I have to say I did not feel remotely obese. Yes, I was certainly larger than I was before, much larger, but I still felt exactly the same and a few extra pounds did not seem to be slowing me down of affecting my life at all. I suppose things really changed over the balance of the year. First, I realised that I was now addicted to the diet I had assumed. I simply needed an intake of fatty calorific food and sugary, carbonated drinks to see me through the day. I had also become a compulsive snacker. I was always munching something. I could not help it. It was like having withdrawal pangs if I didn't. Not that different from giving up smoking. What I consumed now required absolutely no prompting from Richard. There was no need for high protein drinks either which ceased to be part of my daily routine. Also, I found that my metabolism was changing. It was burning up my food intake much less effectively. I don't whether this was because it was just overwhelmed or the product of the much more sedentary life style I was leading, which involved no active exercise of any kind. My movements were just becoming slower.
In September Richard arranged for me to work in one of his companies' accounts departments as an apprentice, with one day a week at the local college to become qualified in book-keeping and accounts. He intoduced me to the people inthe office as his nephew. By then there was no doubt that I was obese. My stomach had grown substantially, so I could no longer see over it to my feet. I still dressed the same but in much larger sizes. I was well into the LX sizes now. I also started to have some of the issues very fat people have. My thighs had fattened up so they rubbed together so I had a more waddling gait; not helped by the bulky nappy beteen my legs. I became breathless quite quickly. I moved around less as it was tiring. I sweated much more. I had the occasional joint pains. But still I went on eating because I just could not help it. It was worse when Richard was away on his frequent business trips. Then I treated myself to what was effectively a junk food crawl with the ample extra spending money he left me, going from one fast food outlet after another and gorging myself. I would then bring supplies back to the house and watch films or TV while eating it all up, washed down by copious amounts of Coke.
When the Christmas weigh in came, Richard was in seventh heaven. At 240 ponds I was now officially morbidly obese and now there was no disguising the fact. By any standards I was very fat. And the progression continued. Over the year my weight went on increasing by the year end I hit 292 pounds, putting me in a new category of super-obese. I was also having real health issues as a result of my weight. I had severe joint pains at times and I could tell that this was effecting the way I stood. My legs seemed to spay outwards from my knees placing weight at an unnatural angle on my ankles. I also developed increasingly flat feet. I was suffering frequent respiratory problems and slept poorly because of sleep apnea. My stomach was a pattern of stretch marks and I had all sorts of skin irritations. I walked alright but with effort. As far as I could I avoided stairs or long walks.
And still my weight increased, even though the rate of increase was slowing down appreciably and I had periodic attempts to lose a little when I was panicked into it my the doctor. The pattern was invariably the same. A diet which was agony to stick to and which resulted in a very modest shedding of pounds followed by a sharp rise in my weight when binge eating ended the effort. It was hopeless. In fact it was a pointless exercise. It was pointless for another reason. I liked my shape. Whatever Richard's motivation for fattening me up, I had become to really like the way I was. I don't know when. I never minded putting on weight from the start but there was a Damascene moment about a year and a half later when I suddenly realised that this was always meant to be. I was designed to be very fat. Without Richard I would never have known it. It was he that pushed the button but I was hard-wired that way.
I am now in my early twenties and I weigh just over 350 pounds so I am now on the threshold of becoming super-super-obese; the premier league for the morbidly obese. My weight might not sound much but it hangs off a small frame. Slowly I am approaching my immediate target of 400 pounds and I know that, providing I am still alive, I will make it. Even without reaching this target, I am by any measure very fat indeed. I really have no neck to speak of, just rolls of fat which makes it look as if my head just grows out of my shoulders. I have pendulous bosoms; amazing really. My back is a succession of rolls of fat which extend to under my arms. Many fat men have small bottoms. Not me. Mine is large and pear-shaped and its puckered flesh morphs into equally puckered fat thighs above stout carves and swollen ankles. My arms are tight and round with a rolls of fat marking where my wrists are. My hands are typically podgy. My penis now looks very short as it has been mostly swallowed up by the flesh surrounding it. But the real triumph is my stomach which is huge. When I sink my fingers into it and massage it, it wobbles like an enormous jelly. I love it. When I stand, it hangs over my private parts. I have to lift it up to fondle my dick or jerk off. When I am sitting it rests on my thighs, nearly covering my knees. It sounds strange I suppose to those who are normally built but I like it this way and have no wish to change anything. I have absolutely no interest in exploring bariatric surgery. I know there is a cost to this in terms of my health. In addition to the health issues I have described earlier, I have IBS and erectile dysfunction in that I find it difficult to become erect or to maintain an erection. So I take medication for it amongst a number of other ailments. Being grossly over-weight was never intended to be healthy; it is part of the experience. My elevated blood sugar makes me a pre-diabetic and I think full blown type 2 diabetes is inevitable as are hypertension and heart disease: they go with the territory. I also have bladder incontinence but that is another matter. At the moment I am mobile, although walking distances and climbing flights of stairs is an effort. I can see one day that I might use a power wheel chair or mobility scooter to get around outside as it would take a lot of strain off me. After a while that might develop into full time use as I can see that things could be much more convenient that way. I cannot see myself being bed-ridden. But I am in the middle of an amazing adventure and I do not know exactly where it will lead, even if there are hints of how it may develop.
People say that inside every fat man there is a small man trying to get out. That does not apply to me. The fat man you see is me through and through. It describes who I am. Take it away and I am nothing. I know when I walk into a room, it is my weight that everybody notices first. If someone has forgotten my name, all they have to say is, "You know that fat man in your office" and answer comes back: "You mean Kevin". I have never been to a doctor without being given a lecture about the importance of losing weight. My looks are determined by my bulk as my features, my nose and chin, have been largely submerged in the fat that has grown up around them. Frankly if my Mum and old school mates saw me today, I don't think they would recognise me. In fact I'm sure they wouldn't. The way I dress is completely determined by my weight. I search for clothes that will fit me, which is a decreasing universe, and not what I like or is in the latest style. Trousers and track pants in very limited styles are fine, as I can buy them with large waists and short leg lengths on Ebay. Shirts and jackets are more of a problem, if they fit my torso, the sleeves are generally too long. So shirts tend to look like tunics. Whatever I do everything is determined by my size. Washing and dressing take time as does any physical action, however mundane, such as getting in and out of bed or in or out of a car, My gestures and gait are all those of a fat man. Everywhere I go my weight is part of the calculation. Can I go to the cinema if I cannot book an end of the aisle seat? I am certainly too large to squeeze past people to get to a centre seat. What if the train is full, someone may complain that I am taking two seats? Can I fit behind that table? Then there is my appetite. I am constantly ravenous. My body makes its demands known every waking minute of the day. As I don't want to conform to everybody's stereotype, I try to conceal what I eat. For example, at work I usually have a bag of donuts handy which I eat when no one is around. Apart from Richard I have quite a solitary life. Obesity carries with it social issues as well. A person would ask: "Do I really want to go around with someone quite so enormous. What does that say about me and my feelings of self worth and self esteem?"
I suppose I have had one regret. Neglect and the effect of corrosive, sugary drinks ruined my teeth. The enamel was eaten away and decay had set in everywhere. Richard thought that it was simply not worth keeping them, so with his active encouragement I had them all out last year and was fitted with dentures. This is the only similarity I have with Richard. He is slim, svelte and fashionably dressed. What captivated me when I first saw a photo of him was his piercing blue eyes and his ready smile which revealed perfectly even, white teeth. Until I was intimate with him, I had no idea that they were false. For those that have never experienced a toothless, gummy blow job, you have a treat in store. At first it was difficult to eat with my new teeth so I was confined to liquid, minced or very soft foods. As my gums healed and stabilised, eating became less of a problem and even less so since I received my new permanent dentures a few months ago. There are foods I avoid like crusty pizzas and hard French baguettes but I manage most things, even if a knife and fork is more of an necessity now. Certainly my weight gain suffered only a temporary interruption. While I would prefer my own teeth, my new ones are, like Richard's, perfect, all even and as white as his.
After about three years living with Richard I moved out of his house into a flat he owned in a different suburb. We had no falling out and he sees me very regularly often staying the night. I still work for him and have qualified as an accountant. I have in the back of my mind that he has found another young guy who he is setting on the royal road to morbid obesity. In fact he was so practiced with me I might not have been his first subject. Thinking back, some of those business trips may have been to check up on his older creations. I would love to meet them or his new project. What I would most like would be to find someone of my size and in my condition so I could share my life with him. I don't think that it is really possible to fully empathise with someone who is very fat, unless you are very fat yourself. I would also dearly like to share all the little features of life being grossly over-weight with someone who could experience everything I was experiencing and the same time I was experiencing it. I think it would greatly enhance pleasures of being my size. I would also be able to share my health issues with someone who would not be judgmental about the cause of them because he would have them to a lesser or greater degree.
So I am on the lookout and should I succeed, I will be happy to share my experience of it with you here.
Thank you for reading this (if you got this far). I hope you enjoyed it.
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