Past and Present - SSBBW

Past:
    She grew up in a small cheap apartment complex in a rough neighborhood. Her life revolved around food. Her father lusted after her mother, with her wide hips and sagging gut, her painfully stiff waddle. When he came home he’d make sure she and her daughters had plenty to eat then he ate a small portion and drank himself oblivious, chainsmoking cheap cigarillos throughout. More often then not when drunk he’d become aroused, he’d come up behind her mother, with his zipper open and member posed, then pull down her pants or lift up her dress and bend her over the counter, or a table, whichever was handiest, and he’d proceed to have intercourse. Having gained release he’d stagger into the bedroom to pass out. Her mother never complained, never wearing underwear at home, and usually wearing dresses for ease of access.
    Her parents were incredible chainsmokers, which contributed to the funk of the house. All her early memories feature her massively obese mother squinting through clouds of tobacco smoke from the eternal cigarette in the corner of her mouth, that only disappeared when she ate.
    Her father was a good provider, food was never scarce and the girls were encouraged to eat their fill. His sons were encouraged to eat the minimum, to save more for their mother, who ate the most, and their sisters, and to “keep them in trim to be good strong providers” someday.
    Her mother was a short but incredibly wide woman. Her hips, legs, butt, upper arms, belly and thighs made her practically circular. Her belly reached to her knees but her butt provided a good counterweight. As the years passed and the weight bore on her frame she began to stay in bed or sit on the couch all day snacking. The couch was never preferred as her father would come home and after drinking himself oblivious and then her father would struggle to find her holes and be unable to preform. But as she lay in bed, he could early lift one of her legs, lift her belly, or have her roll over, and then “use her as providence intended” as he always said.

Present:
    She lives in a small crummy house on the edge of a bad neighborhood. Food is everything. Fast food, traditional ethnic food, homemade food, anything edible, she needs to eat. Only then can she reward her feeder with hard work, at least in a way that’s comfortable for them, as she is no longer able to get wet without a full stomach. Originally, probably like her mother, the simple touch to her privates would get her dripping. Access is a challenge now as she’s plagued by lymphoma in her legs, her stomach pools in her lap, and folds from her thighs and butt intertwine around her pussy.
    Her feeder is a good provider to her with a good job, good benefits, and enough money to keep good food, medications, cigarettes and hygiene supplies well stocked, their job pays them well and her feeder can do much of it from home, allowing them to assist her as she needs them.
    Like her parents she’s a heavy smoker, unlike her mother she smokes to take the edge off her incredibly strong food addiction and her health has suffered. She consumes cigarettes like food, not merely puffing on them, but dragging on them like they’re in short supply. She started much earlier then her mother too and her lungs have been subsequently trashed.
    She’s beautifully pear shaped, although every surface is riddled with stretch marks and cellulite, a belly to the mid thigh level, and massive thick thighs. Her ass is huge, larger then her mothers, and would make a fine shelf if she could stand long enough. Her balance is dreadful as her belly reaches only halfway to her knees, unlike her mothers and the sheer amount of her weight leaves her breathless and gasping in pain with every step.

Past:
    For as long as she can remember her mom needed help. Washing herself, wiping, and getting dressed. She was simply too fat, and too lazy to do them herself. Watching her father washing under her mom’s breasts, caressing her heavy gut as her worked, gave her her definition of true love.
    Her Mothers final years were spent in bed, with her husband, who’d used her and used her, time and again, in private, in front of their children, wherever, as her primary caretaker. Food was still never scarce and her weight ballooned till her cardio-pulmonary system simply gave out from the weight and several undiagnosed medical conditions.   

Present:
    Getting out of bed is no longer feasible. She’s much larger then her mother was, and unlike her mother, since most of her weight is carried in her hips and butt, standing puts her dangerously off balance. Her feeder does everything for her, bathing her rolls, applying lotion to her flesh, and cleaning up her waste. Unlike her mom her medical conditions have been diagnosed and the prognosis is grime. 5-7 years left in her life if she doesn’t turn her life around, the Congestive heart failure, Emphysema, hypertension, and diabetes are killing her. But it hasn’t stopped her from lying back in her bed and stuffing her face with junk food.
    Right now, as her death caused by her unhealthy lifestyle approaches, she’s completely dependent on her feeder. She’s all but immobile, capable of standing and taking a couple steps when she absolutely has too. Her feeder bathes her, powers the folds and spreads lotion across her titanic mountain of flab. Her feeder changes her chux pads and bed pan, wiping her enormous private parts with care while she lies there like a massive mountain of flab, struggling to breath so she can eat that next donut or smoke that next cigarette. It’s her definition of true love.

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.