The Live Stream

 

This wasn't a commission, I don't do those since I'm too busy to keep up with them and deliver a quality product in a timely manner. However it was a request and suggestion, and I greatly appreciate it.

RunWarrior365 was a moderately popular streamer. She had her own subreddit, and all the usual socials. Right now, about 800 people were watching her stream, a fraction of the 21'000 subscribers she had. However it was one of the secrets to her success, she streamed three times a day, one in the midmorning, one in the midafternoon, and then one in the evening. The daytime ones were usually a couple hours. The evening one, starting around 4pm, usually went for 8 hours, with only a halfhour break around 8:30pm, leading to wild speculation on how much sleep RunWarrior365 actually got, what she did for money, and when she had time for anything else.

"Oh shit! No I didn't need that!" Isla was starting to get a little out of breath. The Skeletal Guards had spawned in catching her by surprise and fighting her way out didn't seem to be working. Another hit from the necromancer... "Nooo!!" The game over screen appeared. "Okay everyone," she said, speaking into the headset mic, trying had not to pant "I'm going to take a break, I'll be back tonight for the stream with NoReason and RealDawg." Isla made sure that she muted the stream. If you'd asked her, she'd have said that, honestly, she a little relieved. It had been nearly 45 minutes since she last had a break and she starving. Mom had brought her the order from McDonalds a few minutes ago and she wanted to dig in. The smell had made her large stomach growl. In fact she'd made a couple key strategic mistakes in the game to enable her to take her break a little earlier then normal.

 

Isla dug in with gusto, scarfing the fast food. It didn't last long, but it wasn't meant for a meal. It was just her midafternoon snack. Her mom was preparing a taco bar for the family dinner tonight. It was Isla's favorite, and she normally ate as much as the rest of the family combined. Her enormous stomach temporarily sated she laid back satisfied. Pressure was building in her bladder and she called "Mom?"

Steps came down the hall and her mother appeared. "Yes dear?"

"Mom, can you please turn the suction on?" Isla gave her Mom a wide eyed apologetic look. "Pretty please? My back hurts." She added a little pout on the end. Isla's back felt fine, she was just tired and full, so while she could reach the suction unit mounted next to the bed that pulled the urine up Isla's external catheter to turn it on and off, she'd like JUST laid back to relax, and sitting up and rolling partially onto her side to reach it was a lot of work.

"Of course Isla dear." Her mother turned the suction on and Isla relaxed. Isla's mom gently stroked her hair, which was annoying but Isla had just played the sick, helpless, card. When she relaxed her bladder everything relaxed down there. Soon the urine was flowing pouring into the external catheter and being sucked up the tube into the cannister. Isla pushed a little, to get all the urine out of her bladder, which made her pass gas. Neither woman reacted to it. Isla's mother bent down. "You do seem a little tense." She said. "Do you need one of your muscle relaxers?" 

Isla shook her head. "No I'm okay. I think it's just from having to pull myself over earlier." Her Mom had helped her bathe in bed this morning, then changed the sheets on the bed and Isla had been forced to get up and use the bedside commode, so her mom could change the sheets. Isla's father was gone for an early meeting and had been unable to help roll Isla onto her side so her mom could bathe her back, leaving Isla cranky and exhausted. Isla realized she was getting close to the 'entitlement' that her brother sometimes accused her of and, although her mom was pretty good at overlooking that, added hastily "It's my fault, I shouldn't have pulled so hard, I should've pushed more with my leg. My calf was just so sore..." That was no lie. Swollen by lack of use, retained fluid, and excess adipose tissue, Isla's legs were inflicted with advanced lymphodema and swollen far beyond any normal healthy size. Folds of fluid created crevices, and even her calves touched and rubbed when she stood. Isla's left calf was currently wrapped in a compression bandage after it had partially opened during her bath a few days ago. 

"I know dear, it's okay." Her mom continued to stroke Isla's hair. Isla had finished urinating and now she was ready for a nap. 

"I'm sorry to be so much trouble." Isla apologized. She sniffed "I'm such a big gross blob, I wish you'd just put me in a nursing home or something so you didn't have to work so hard."

"Hush Isla!" Her mother scolded her. "Enough of that. You are not a lot of trouble. I think you need to take a break from those silly games, take a pain pill and relax." 

"Will you turn on my CPAP for me?" Isla pleaded. Like the suction unit, she didn't want the noise from the oxygen concentrator get picked up by her mic. When she'd been forced to start using it during streams she'd started to see comments asking if someone was remolding her space, or generally asking what the humming noise was, it was now kept in a closet, with the door closed. Her CPAP was located next to her bed, and her mom turned it on for her. While Isla too her nasal cannula off, her mom plugged in the oxygen tubing to the machine and then swapped with Isla. Isla got her CPAP on and her Mom plugged the oxygen into a small portable tank mounted in easy reach on Isla's bed. That way Isla wouldn't need to keep her CPAP on in order to get the oxygen she needed if she woke up. Then her mom got Isla one of her oxycodone and Isla swallowed it with some of the soda she had left. 

 

Then Isla was alone, reclined in her bed. As the medication masked the chronic soreness in her legs and hips she stretched luxuriantly. Sometimes it was all too easy with her Mom. There was an excellent chance her Mom would bring her extra dessert too if she thought Isla was really struggling with pain. You had to be careful though, Isla didn't want her mom to get upset and burn out. Isla wanted just enough sympathy that she could be lazy, even for someone nearly bed confined from their weight, which meant she was also reinforcing her Mom's enabling.

Isla woke up to the smell of taco meat and looked at the clock. Her stream would start in 15 minutes. Plenty of time. She took her CPAP off, and rolled to her side. Her oversized butt and thighs barely shifted, all the movement was done with her torso. She found the buttons for the machines, turning them off. First the suction unit, which had stayed on in case she urinated in her sleep which happened sometimes, then she turned off the CPAP, pulling the oxygen tube out of it's connector and plugging it back into her nasal cannula. She pushed herself back up with a grunt. Her breasts slid back down her chest under her gown and her belly dragged across her thighs. She took a breath, and heaved her sagging belly back to center so there wasn't so much pressure on her right hip. She raised the bed and looked around. Her stomach growled as she fired up the computers. She knew her Mom would be in with dinner at any moment and Isla would have her tacos and video games. She didn't have any premonitions of anything bad coming her way.

The next two hours were pretty routine. Isla gorged herself. Her mom had made her a pan of brownies and Isla barely talked on stream, keeping her mic muted most of the time so she could eat. And anyway most of the people tuning into the joint stream were there to see the other two guys, Isla was their token woman, and she just needed to say the right things when they were joking. It was while she was finishing her 6th taco when she felt her guts starting to rumble. Her stomach was hurting and Isla hesitated. Then suddenly the level was over. Her team had won, and they were going into the lobby. Isla messaged the other two guys that she was going to sit this one out and take a break, and then put up a little box on her screen to let people know she was on break. She then hit the mic button, forgetting it was off already, hung her headset on the monitor, and pushed the monitors on their big swing arm away. "Mom?" She called. 

"Yes dear?" Her mother appeared and saw Isla sitting the bed up all the way. She moved into the room, turning the lights on.

"I need the commode." Isla panted, breathing in off her cannula as she got ready to move her legs. This was going to suck. She was very closed to being stuffed to capacity, and that made moving a lot harder. Normally she wouldn't go to the bathroom till around 8pm, this was almost two hours early. Her mom came over, and pulled the catheter from between Isla's legs, setting it aside. "I need you to help with my leg." Her mom took Isla's left leg, swinging it over and Isla gasped in pain from the extra pressure. Her Mom brought her walker and set it up. Isla slid to the edge of the bed, naked backside rustling on the sheets, dragging the chux pads with her. "Hold the walker." Isla ordered. She was terrified of falling. She tried to get up and failed. "Fuck!" She gasped. Her mother pursed her lips but didn't say anything.

 

She rocked a little bit, then pushed herself upright with a gasp, every ounce of strength her body could muster, and a long wet fart. Some urine dribbled out onto the floor as Isla clenched what muscles she had to drag her enormously heavy butt off the bed. The chux pads stuck to her backside, both massively fat cheeks slapping together. She took two steps, fat sagging breasts slapping now, belly wobbling, and slowly turned. Her disproportionately large backside and wide hips trying to throw her swollen legs - so wide it pushed them apart - off balance. Her mom stood behind the commode to keep it from sliding, and pulled the chux off Isla's wide ass. Isla collapsed onto the commode in just the nick of time, her fattened hips overlapping the sides of the bariatric commode.

 

With a gasp of relief her bowels noisily emptied into the plastic basin. She emptied her bladder, a powerful stream slapping against the side of the basin while her Mom got the bed reset. Head down, fresh chux in place for Isla's thighs and backside. "Are you done dear?" Her mother asked. Isla shook her head, still out of breath from her herculian effort. More waste was streaming from her backside. She finally finished with a sputter of flatulance, and cleaned her FUPA with the wipes her mother handed to her. The stench of her waste failed the room. Her mom didn't say anything, she just held the walker and Isla braced herself. She rocked backwards and forwards and heaved herself upwards. "Hurry." She begged her mom. Her hips were killing her, her chest hurt from breathing hard, and she was pretty sure the wound on her bandaged left leg had partially opened again, oozing lymphatic fluid into the gauze under the compression wrap. Her mother was experienced, through, but quick for all that. She wiped deep between Isla's fat packed butt cheeks, cleaning the greasy fecal matter off the matted cellulite slabs that were Isla's anatomy.

That done, Isla took two steps forward turned, with her Mother's steadying hand, and then she sank onto the bed. She scooted back and her mom helped her swing her legs over. Then she went to take care of the waste in the commode. 

Isla pulled the monitors back over and blinked. The comments had flooded in, wild speculation and rumors. Insults and jokes. She saw the mic was live and with a horrified cry she closed the apps and shut off the computer, burying her face in her hands. 

For the next two weeks Isla more or less existed. Sometimes she'd play games; never live, always offline. She mindlessly ate when food was put in front of her, but never asked for more. Her Mother and father couldn't make sense of it. 

Then one day Isla got a message. It was one of her fans who occassionally donated. "I hope you're okay." It said. "I was watching your last stream when it suddenly went dead. I don't know for sure what your situation is, but I hope you're okay."

Something snapped inside Isla and she responded with "I'm fucking fat, okay! Go ahead, screenshot this, tell everyone. I don't care anymore. No one wants to watch a gross fat chick play games."

The fan replied "I don't think people really care. If you can ignore the haters you'll be fine. As for telling everyone, that's not my place. I think you should do it. Then we can all move on. Why don't you give it a try?" After some coaxing, Isla agreed to give it a try. It was better then just sitting here doing nothing.

 

 

 
Posted on RunWarrior365's Socials:

 

I guess I owe you all an explanation. People have commented under my stream, and clips have even made it onto the internet. There's been a lot of speculation, and I just want to end the rumors and speculation.

When I was 20 I dropped out of college. I'd only been taking online classes, it had just been too tiring going in person at my size. I was always exhausted and out of breath.

I've always been fat, but I gained a lot of weight after high school. I worked at the hotel my dad runs, at the front desk, but soon even that got to be too much getting up and moving around. I was simply too exhausted at the end of each day, just from getting dressed, working, and going to bed, and I quit when I was 22.

 

I settled in at home, spending most of my time in my bedroom, playing video games, watching movies, and eating constantly. I know my family has enabled me, I own that. But I was tired all the time, I started to have chest pain, and my legs were swelling up. What would you do if you were 22, 23, years old, and moving was an excruciating workout?

 

When I went to the doctor, for the first time since I was 18, and that was when I diagnosed with a condition I'd never heard of call Obesity Hypoventilation Syndrome. A sleep study confirmed it and soon I was at home with a CPAP machine and a bunch of pills. But I'd get severely out of breath during the day from walking, so I continued to gain weight, which has made it harder for me to breath. Having the energy to do anything is a huge problem for me. Eventually they put me on oxygen, two years ago when I was 27.  I have continued to gain weight, and now it's to the point where I have to spend most of my time in bed because getting out of bed is so painful and exhausting.

 

I needed to do something to keep from being bored. I've always liked gaming and when I started streaming it was because I needed an activity I could do from my bed. I met so many wonderful people and I plan on continuing to game and stream. If it matters to you that I'm fat then you don't have to hang out here anymore. But for my friends and fans who like me for me, welcome back, let's have fun together."

With that posted Isla took a breath and for the first time ever, strained, grunting, she pushed herself up, and peeled off the thin piece of tape at the top of her monitor. Then she turned on her camera. She began the stream with "Sorry I was gone everyone, but I'm back. I'm excited to play this game, I've heard a lot about it..." The comments, positive and negative, poured in, but Isla forced herself not to mind. Breakfast was nearly an hour ago, and she was starting to feel rumblings as her belly started to anticipate the Wendy's it was going to be fed for mid-morning snack. Her brother had told her he was coming by to drop something off and asked if he should pick her up something on his way and she'd asked for Wendy's. 

 

Isla's fan, the one who'd convinced her to come back let out a sigh of relief as Isla's blog post popped up on her social media. He enjoyed watched her play games, she seemed to genuinely enjoy them, and she was pretty good at it. Thanks to her recommendations, he'd purchased a couple of games and had enjoyed them. He got up from his computer desk, and pushed the chair back. He was glad that she had a purpose, something she enjoyed that she could do from her bed. He'd started watching along, and sharing the stream as a way to give her some confidence and to be supportive. Speaking of supportive he had to run an errand for his parents, and on the way to their place he had to stop at Wendy's and pick up a very large order for his little sister.

 

Pinned By Lard - Henri

Henrietta was tired. She'd just worked a 12 hour day shift at a long term care/skilled nursing facility. Henri, as she was called by her boyfriend, the love of her life, was 29, about 5'3" tall, 180 pounds, and not very attractive. Her breasts were small, droopy, and shapeless, her face plump, pale, with acne scaring, and dark rings around her eyes. Her hair was always messy looking, and she smoked around two packs of cigarettes a day which gave her a raspy smokers voice and a chronic cough. Her best asset was her butt but it's large curvy shape of a few years ago was gone leaving it to look wide, flabby, and droopy.

Their rundown looking townhouse occupied the middle of the block. In the front window two window units hummed. Henri took a deep drag off of her cigarette and unlocked the door. The warm humid air and the familiar smell washed over her.

In the dim smog, lit by only a couple lights and the TV, she observed Eric, huge, immobile, sexy Eric. He was lying, as always, in bed, his massive body splayed around him, pinning him to the bed in what used to be the dining room. Currently he was taking short sporadic drags on a cigarette, another bad habit of his. Sweat beaded his forehead and she could smell urine through Eric's ever present BO. She stepped up to the bed grinding her cigarette out into the full ashtray just as Eric, with a final gasp, expelled the last of the smoke, stubbed his out, and carefully replaced his cannula in his nose. "How are you dear?" She asked and they kissed. She put her arms around his neck feeling her breasts pressing into his huge soft chest. He didn't reciprocate, his arms had long since gotten to heavy for him to go to the effort required hug her in return at that angle, where there was no support for the weight of his arm flab. As she released him he smiled at her, exposing his yellow teeth and said "Hungry."

She laughed. "You're always hungry."

He laughed back breathlessly. "Damn right Henri."

Henri headed to the kitchen and grabbed a container of cookies. She brought them to him and then asked "Do you still need to pee or can I clean you up?"

Through a mouthful of cookie he replied "I could piss."

Henri stepped across to the beautiful built in china cabinets, now full of various care products.The one on the left was full of bathroom care supplies. Henri pulled on a pair of gloves and grabbed a urinal and extra disposable chux pad. She stepped back across and pushed Eric's belly up. She pulled the used Chux pad out and then bracing the underside of his belly with her arm forced his FUPA back until she found his penis, uselessly buried inside his fat pad. She pressed the urinal against it and Eric emptied his bladder. Henri capped the urinal and quickly wiped down the area to prevent infection.

Henri dumped the urinal into the toilet and then got into the shower. She bathed herself as quickly as possible, changed into sweat pants and a tee shirt and started dinner. As soon as the chicken was out of the fridge she grabbed two bags of chips and a bottle of soda and walked it into Eric to give him something to snack on while she prepared dinner. Fried chicken and french fries tonight, along with the nearly dozen medications Eric took at night.

Henri ate her comparatively small portion in the kitchen while Eric devoured his in his bed, scarfing at the pile of chicken and fries. Henri finished and began the dishes. She stepped into Eric's room and found him looking satisfied, with grease on his face and hands, lighting his after dinner cigarette. She gathered the dishes and he breathlessly thanked her. Henri smiled the warm feeling of pleasing Eric filling her stomach. She started the dishwasher and stepped back into Eric's room. She opened one of the cabinets, got Eric's breathing treatment out, and filled the nebulizer. While Eric's lungs were bathed in medication to open them up so he could breathe, Henri filled a bucket with warm water, gathered the soup and bed pan and then headed back into Eric's room.

Eric hated this part of the day. His intestines were shot, so overloaded with fat that they had trouble moving his shit. They were helped somewhat by a large dose of laxatives. Every night after he was full and his breathing treatment was finished he would be rolled onto his side. Henri would remove the chux pads from his butt crack and he would roll onto his back again and start bearing down. Usually it wasn't to difficult but it was the hardest physical exercise he did all day. After he had emptied his bowels he then had to roll back on his side so Henri could remove the waste and clean him up. After she cleaned up his waste she then washed down his back quickly. He'd roll back to where he belonged and she'd do a quick wash and dry.

Henri watched Eric's back roll away from her. A mound of shit lay piled in the bed pan. She removed it and began cleaning his backside and back. She dried it quickly and he rolled back onto his back. Using the bed remote he raised his head so he could breathe properly. His face was red and he was wheezing. Eric took a washcloth and washed the surface of his form as far as he could reach while Henri worked up from his legs. Then she tackled the folds and crevices. Just a quick wipe and dry. Then she powdered inside his folds to try to keep it somewhat dry to prevent infection. Last she helps his use urinal again and cleans his fat pad and as much of his penis as she can find. Henri replaced the powder in the bathing supplies cabinet, carried the bucket to the bathroom and dumped it. She stripped off her pants and shirt and returned to Eric's room with more food and soda. It is understood that this is her time. She places the food on Eric's table, puts the soda in the fridge, and then takes off her panties and bra.

She climbs naked into Eric's bed and lays against him. Eric feels himself grow hard deep underneath all his folds. He drapes a huge fat arm across her shoulders and cups one of her breasts. Henri sighs. No words are exchanged. Eric switches the TV over to HGTV, her favorite network, and she snuggles in closer to him pressing as much of her curvy body into his soft flesh as possible. Sometimes she gets out lotion and tenderly lotions and massages his body. But tonight she's to tired. She lights a cigarette and takes a drag, the smoke and nicotine warming her insides. She finishes the cigarette and falls asleep next to Eric, head leaning on his shoulder.

Pinned By Lard - Introduction

Eric, age 30, lay in his bed breathing heavily. Around him the detritus of his day lay scattered. He was in what was formerly the ground floor dining room of a small townhouse, Eric was completely immobile, pinned to his bed by his enormous obesity. Three months ago he'd managed to briefly stand on a scale and it had put his weight at 800lbs even. A week later he'd tried to stand again and been unable to do so. Eric's life expectancy with his weight and health issues was 37 years old.

Eric's body was a shapeless blob. His feet were swollen with fat, his thighs and shins swollen with lyphedema. His hands and arms were weighed down with so much excess adipose tissue that even lifting his hand to his mouth, his only true physical exercise, was a workout. His belly was massive, sitting on his thighs, it would have reached to his knees if he could have stood, covered in stretch marks and discolored skin. His "moobs" perched on top, with a thick layer of excess tissue circling under his arms to his back. Underneath his massive belly his "fat pad" had completely swallowed his penis. His head was sunk into his chest, and his face was completely shapeless. Pale, blotchy, with dark circles under his eyes. He kept his head shaved, and a nasal cannula ran from the oxygen cylinder in the corner of the room, to his shapeless nose. If he were to roll over his back would feature rolls of fat and his buttocks would be a mere shapeless mass of flesh.

Eric had given into the inevitable. He'd allowed his already precarious health to deteriorate completely. Instead of the health of a 30 year old his health was worse then many people three times his age. His list of medical conditions included High Blood Pressure, Rapid Heart Rate, Type 2 Diabetes, Sleep Apnea, Asthma, Gout, Osteoarthritis, Congestive Heart Failure, Lymphedema, Obesity Hypoventilation Syndrome, COPD/Emphysema, fatty liver disease, and Cellulitis. His blood pressure was chronically high, averaging at 170/90, (Normal 120/80) his resting pulse was around 90-100 beats per minute (Normal is 80 BPM) and even on 3 liters per minute of oxygen being delivered through his nasal cannula his blood oxygen level in his extremities hovered around 89-90% (Normal 95%-100%) due to his pack to two pack a day smoking habit and perfusion problems. His diabetes which was barely controlled by his medications was putting stress on his kidneys and his liver was so overloaded with fat that it was 50% functional or even less.

Eric's skin, overstretched by his obesity, was an additional constant source of issues for Eric. It was discolored and stretched so tight that if to much pressure was put on any part of it it could tear. Since his body weight had climbed faster then his skin could keep up so his fat was pressed into his body cavity, putting pressure on his internal organs. This led to increased difficulty breathing, as his diaphragm and lungs fought to expand against his own fat, decreased bladder capacity as the pressure onto the organ forced urine either back up into his kidney's or down his urethra. He had constipation issues due to high fat content in the organ itself and pressing against it from the outside.

Eric's challenges were not limited to the physiological. Unable to walk he was confined to a bed for everything. His girlfriend, Henrietta, who he called Henri, had to bathe him there and take care of his bodily functions too. Both were a challenge. For defecation if Henri was there he could roll on his side, roll back, and use a bed pan. If she wasn't he would simply go onto a chux pad that had been tucked into his rolls to try to create some sort of a diaper for him. For urination Henri would force the rolls of fat aside until she got to his penis, and he would go into a male urinal, Henri would then dry any urine that had dribbled from his useless dick into his fat folds. On the occasions she wasn't there he went into a chux pad, folded into his fat pad to hold it's position.

Cleaning Eric was a problem because Henrietta had to work 40-50 hours a week as a nursing assistant, Eric, who really should have been cleaned well daily with special attention to his folds, was bathed completely and totally, only about twice a week. Daily Henri would clean every crevice and surface around his ass and fat pad, but for everything else she could only do a quick wash, dry, and powder. Twice a week, on her days off, she would fill several buckets with soapy water, pile up a bunch of towels, and get to work, digging gloved hands deep into his folds, applying copious amounts of baby powder, and then massage lotion every inch of Eric's massive form. Eric hated these days but accepted them as a necessary evil to keep the stench, bacteria, and fungal infections at bay.

Eric smelled. Bad. Especially in summer Eric would smell bad as the oppressive heat overwhelmed the small window units that cooled his room. Because Eric's gargantuan form produced tons of heat and sweat, Eric was constantly hot and sweaty. The sweat, coupled with difficulties cleaning up after he used the bathroom, the enclosed space of the room, the smoke from his cigarettes, and the garbage he accumulated, added up to quite the smell. Henri had built up an immunity to it, but an outsider would have been knocked flat on their back.

Of course Eric's weight wouldn't have been a problem if it hadn't been for his eating. Eric always ate three large meals a day. But someday's he would eat only those three meals, sometimes he would eat breakfast, snack slowly through to lunch, (grazing) eat lunch, and slowly snack through to dinner. But sometimes he would stuff himself for hours, eating everything he could, wheezing through full mouthfuls, as his body struggled to keep pace with his colossal appetite. Henri always kept tons of snacks and liquids within Eric's reach because when "the hunger," as she jokingly referred to it, struck, he could eat pounds of food. For a while she kept track of the calories he consumed in a day. At the very least he consumed about 3'000, in the big meals she cooked for him. On those days he smoked 30-40 cigarettes, painstakingly removing his oxygen and trying to breath without it for each one. On his bad days he would smoke almost nothing but once consumed nearly 80'000 calories worth of snacks and soda. Henri would come home and find that the floor was covered in wrappers, empty chip bags, crumbs, empty soda bottles, and Eric, lying wheezing and gasping, covered in crumbs and stains, rubbing his belly.