How Long

NOTE: This is a complete fantasy, nothing is really supposed to be real or anything. I doubt that any human could actually live to be this big, but who knows, we may find out in a few years.

How much longer?

Some days, when I'm trying to sleep and failing, a rare occurance given how tired I constantly am I like to think. I think about my massive form lying helpless in my bed, unable to sit up, roll on my side, much less get up and walk.

As I'm thinking I think about my fat. I love my fat. The last weight we did was 1358lbs (616kg or 97 stone) but I'm sure it's over 1400 now. My massive belly, overflowing my body on both sides to rest on my hips, where the fat is spread out, although on the right it approaches the edge of the bed because my belly always hung lower on that side. My ass, which used to be very prominent, is now shapeless and flat from the years I've spent lying on it, and is also approaching the edge of the bariatric bed. My breasts droop low resting on my belly. My wrists are buried in fat, my forearms packed with flesh, and my upper arms droop. My legs are no longer definable as such, my inability to move has led to them swelling with fluid. My calves still touch even though my legs are the widest part of my body. I can't move my feet because the huge quantity of tissue down there has paralyzed my ankles. The size of my legs has forced the massive lymphodema on my right thigh off the side on the bed onto a cushion placed on a table to support it. I have several others, and they're always leaking. I'm 5'6" (66 inches) tall but my belly is 70 wide leaving me with two inches of room on the 72" wide bed.

I get aroused thinking of it and wish I was still able to pleasure myself. When He comes home he generally does it, but only after I've been a good Piggy and have stuffed myself to capacity, a number which gets higher each time. At 1400 pounds the combination of layers of flab, not to mention a sizable FUPA buried under my belly, makes sex extremely difficult. Since I'm unable to lift my massive belly at all, the caretakers have to help lifting it and gently moving my delicate legs so He can access my buried pussy and reward me for my hard work.

I wonder, how much longer will they be able to clean me? How much longer can they lift my massive rolls and roll my gargantuan frame to wash me and change my sheets? The caretakers clean me the same way, gently, and slowly, massaging lotion into each inch of my overstretched skin, and powdering every fold. They empty my urinary catheter as well as the fecal collection bag, before flushing sterile water up the tube. Since reaching my anus and urethra is such a chore with the layers of fat covering it we use the tubes and they work fairly well. They also change the oxygen cannula to keep bacteria from forming.

Which leads me to think of my health. My resting heart rate is around 120, my blood pressure in the high 190s to 200s, and that's WITH extremely strong medications to control both my heart rate and blood pressure. Even the shortest period of time without my oxygen makes me dizzy, and sometimes I require my CPAP. My cholesterol is always very high, even with multiple different pills to control it. My blood sugar requires quite an insane amount of insulin daily just to keep it within normal limits, due to my out of control diet and insulin resistant diabetes, but even with the strictest daily monitoring of my sugar levels the doctors still worry that my kidneys will be destroyed by my diabetes within a year or two requiring dialysis treatments. They also believe that my musculoskeletal system has been so damaged by my weight that even if I miraculously was able to drop my weight by say, 1200 pounds, the chances of me having a normal life, without significant confinement both to bed and a wheelchair, are very low. I take nearly 40 medications a day, from the blood pressure pills to the pain pills, insulin to nebulizers, I take practically one of everything in the pharmacy, just to keep me alive. Who knows how much longer though?

And I wonder, how much longer? How long until my heart gives out, finally overwhelmed by my diet and obesity. How much longer until my lungs can no longer expand against the pressure of my own weight? I come from a very athletic family and have a natural pulmonary and circulatory system that would be envied by professional athletes. Yet with a hundred stone of weight on my frame even my naturally superior internal systems can't survive much longer.

Generally, before I drift back to sleep, my thoughts come to a conclusion, realizing that the real question I'm asking myself is how much longer can I remain the massively obese sex and food consuming machine that I am before it kills me. Then I drift to sleep requiring only the certainty that I will consume massive amounts of carbs, and delicious trans fats tomorrow in my mind.