Past and Present - SSBHM

    His younger sister was born 9 months after Mom and Dad’s 400lbs celebration sex.
    He grew up watching Mom as she lusted after the way Dad moved, his arms held away from his body, belly swaying, wheezing for breath, taking it step by step, thinking “I want my wife to watch me like that.”
    He “shared” some of Dad’s “Snacks” as they sat together on the couch, Dads belly jutting between his massive thighs. 
    He grew up breathing in his father’s smell, the smell of sweat and B.O. that couldn’t seem to get washed away.
    But the scene that probably had the greatest impact on his life happened when he was 13. He was around 140lbs then and sitting in the kitchen. He glanced up as he saw his father scooting forwards on the couch. He saw his father take the plastic urinal and begin fishing around under his belly, gasping from the effort. Finally with a wheeze of success he got the urinal in place and drained his bladder before scooting back on the couch and resuming where he’d left off on a bag of Doritos. It wasn’t till years later that he realized that his father had been struggling to find his penis which was buried deep within his folds having been swallowed inside his father’s fatpad.

Present:

    An overworked GI tract, leading to incredible amounts of flatulence, constant warmth, leading to constant sweating, and the simple mass of fat packed onto his frame making bodily functions difficult, leading to difficulty wiping, have given him a smell all his own.
    He lives for the gentle caresses, ass smacks, and jiggles from his feeder. And when he waddled around a lot more feeling his feeder’s eyes on his massive jiggle ass could make him erect.
    He eats four meals a day, with constant grazing in between. Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, and Supper. Breakfast at 8am, Lunch at 1, Dinner at 5, supper at 8pm. Supper is usually the biggest while dinner is the lightest.
    He’s much fatter then his father. At his Father’s largest he was able to walk from his bed to the bathroom in the corner of his room but for him getting from the bed to the commode next to the bed presents an almost insurmountable challenge.
    At his current size reaching his penis for pleasure or relief is impossible. Even if it wasn't buried deep inside his fatpad his massive belly, which jets out in front of him, pooling around his knees would make it impossible for him to reach with his own hands leaving it to his feeder to dig around under his belly and find it. His feeder has to massage the fat to make it erect so they can find it and that’s how they change the catheter. He’s been to fat for urinals for at least 3 years.

Past:
    Watching his Dad eat was like watching a man at work. Serious, dedicated, a task to be completed. That didn’t stop him from overindulging in delicious mountains of food. To him, food was work, and his work was to become incredibly fat to satisfy the insatiable appetite for massive obesity possessed by his wife.
    At night, unless he was sleeping sitting up on the sofa, a more common sight the heavier he got, his father used a CPAP system to keep his airway open at night. The massive amount of weight in his body had distorted his anatomy making it easy for his airway to close.

Present:

    For him food holds an almost orgasmic pleasure. Each bite lights a spark within him, a warmth, that he needs. Physically this addiction to the orgasmic pleasure he derives from food has destroyed him, with a life expectancy of less then a decade, heart problems and aggressive diabetes, but he still feels the shifting inside his immobile fatpad of his penis becoming erect as he chokes a whole cake down his maw in an effort to satisfy his insatiable addiction to feeling full
    His body lies in its bed, almost too fat even for the two steps to the commode, leaving him to soil himself with the undigested remains of his food. Breathing is a struggle even at the best of times and an oxygen concentrator constantly hums, giving him a stream of life giving oxygen, compensating for the fat that is crushing his lungs making breathing without it almost impossible. He knows, daily, that his death is near, similar to his fathers, a heart attack in bed after a massive meal but inside him the knowledge, and what a scary thought it is, keeps coming up. “What if I never feel full again? I’ll go crazy and die! My feeder might leave me!” Those thoughts, and the instinct of a man born to be a Goliath of adipose drive him to food.