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.
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Sunday, July 23, 2017
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.
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.
Saturday, April 15, 2017
Video Series
In which a woman dying of her obesity documents it with her FA husband
Video One - Introduction
Lena lay in the massive bed exhausted. She'd spent the day drinking soda and struggling to the bariatric commode only a few steps away way almost to much for her. Her hand went unconsciously to the box next to her and she started consuming the slice of pizza. She gulped another swallow of soda and glanced out the window. Outside rain gushed down. A breeze blew in the open window bringing a chill and she shivered. Her massive frame quivered.
Lena weighed about 600 pounds. She was long past caring. Her daily life was an endless cycle of food, struggling to move, and catnaps with actual sleep at night. She was on a dozen different medications and was constantly hungry. Today as she finished the last pizza and listened to the rain drumming outside and she realized that she was dying. Slowly yes, but faster then she should be at her age.
Lena was not turned on by her size. She was accepting of it and too lazy to make a change. She decided, purely to herself, to create a youtube page and blog to tell her story. Within 15 minutes she had a plan laid out on her laptop.
Her husband came home and found her sitting up in bed looking more lively then she had for days. Todd was a Chemist and secretly turned on by his wife's incredible weight and, even more secretly, her health issues.
"What's going on sweetie?" He asked his incredulous face taking in the unopened bag of chips on the bed next to her, the other unopened containers of saturated fats that fed her during the day he was at work and the only partially completed pack of cigarettes.
Lena looked up at him her eyes sparkling. "Todd" she breathed heavily "I had a great idea. First though," She paused for breath, "I'm dying from all this fat, you'll admit that right."
Todd sat down in a chair facing the bed his penis growing hard. "Darling you're always perfect to me."
Lena rolled her eyes "Physically Todd my weight is killing me. Literally. My blood pressures high, my sugars are messed up, I can't move without oxygen, my organs are buried in fat and are failing, and my heart never drops below a hundred beats a minute. I'm fucking DYING."
Todd said "Look if you want to get healthy..."
"Todd I'm done for. In three years you'll be single. Less. But I want your help creating a video series and youtube channel and website to warn people about being so fat."
Todd clicked. "Alright but you know that show my 600lbs life? Maybe we could get you..."
"No Todd." Lena said "I don't want to change I just want to make my mark on the world."
VIDEO ONE:
"Hello everyone" Lena said "My name is Lena and I am super morbidly obese. I'm so obese that it's killing me. This isn't a cry for help its a warning to you, loose weight and shape up." Todd panned the camera over her massive frame. Her calves, thick and red from exertion and fluid build up, her thighs, thick as Todd's waist, with folds, and covered in cellulite, with a bandage on the right one where her overstretched skin had burst. Her legs as a unit had been deformed as her weight had given her knock knees sending her legs off at the sides. Her butt was squashed flat as the bottom layer of blubber. Her belly, the biggest asset was in two folds, the bottom liquid one covering her pelvis and the top one overflowed at the sides and perched on top. Her belly button had been pushed off center by the massive amount of tissue in her abdomen. Her gut was carpeted in stretch marks, old and new, and the underside of her belly was the brown color of toughed chaffed skin. Her breasts were tucked up and covered by a sheet.
Lena continued "I'm going to be posting videos on how I live, if you an call it living, at this size, and what little life hacks my husband and I have discovered to help me survive."
They watched as it uploaded and then went to bed not expecting very much.
But out there in the world of the internet a person with a certain type of woman stumbled onto the video and posted it to a certain page where a bunch more people watched it.
Video One - Introduction
Lena lay in the massive bed exhausted. She'd spent the day drinking soda and struggling to the bariatric commode only a few steps away way almost to much for her. Her hand went unconsciously to the box next to her and she started consuming the slice of pizza. She gulped another swallow of soda and glanced out the window. Outside rain gushed down. A breeze blew in the open window bringing a chill and she shivered. Her massive frame quivered.
Lena weighed about 600 pounds. She was long past caring. Her daily life was an endless cycle of food, struggling to move, and catnaps with actual sleep at night. She was on a dozen different medications and was constantly hungry. Today as she finished the last pizza and listened to the rain drumming outside and she realized that she was dying. Slowly yes, but faster then she should be at her age.
Lena was not turned on by her size. She was accepting of it and too lazy to make a change. She decided, purely to herself, to create a youtube page and blog to tell her story. Within 15 minutes she had a plan laid out on her laptop.
Her husband came home and found her sitting up in bed looking more lively then she had for days. Todd was a Chemist and secretly turned on by his wife's incredible weight and, even more secretly, her health issues.
"What's going on sweetie?" He asked his incredulous face taking in the unopened bag of chips on the bed next to her, the other unopened containers of saturated fats that fed her during the day he was at work and the only partially completed pack of cigarettes.
Lena looked up at him her eyes sparkling. "Todd" she breathed heavily "I had a great idea. First though," She paused for breath, "I'm dying from all this fat, you'll admit that right."
Todd sat down in a chair facing the bed his penis growing hard. "Darling you're always perfect to me."
Lena rolled her eyes "Physically Todd my weight is killing me. Literally. My blood pressures high, my sugars are messed up, I can't move without oxygen, my organs are buried in fat and are failing, and my heart never drops below a hundred beats a minute. I'm fucking DYING."
Todd said "Look if you want to get healthy..."
"Todd I'm done for. In three years you'll be single. Less. But I want your help creating a video series and youtube channel and website to warn people about being so fat."
Todd clicked. "Alright but you know that show my 600lbs life? Maybe we could get you..."
"No Todd." Lena said "I don't want to change I just want to make my mark on the world."
VIDEO ONE:
"Hello everyone" Lena said "My name is Lena and I am super morbidly obese. I'm so obese that it's killing me. This isn't a cry for help its a warning to you, loose weight and shape up." Todd panned the camera over her massive frame. Her calves, thick and red from exertion and fluid build up, her thighs, thick as Todd's waist, with folds, and covered in cellulite, with a bandage on the right one where her overstretched skin had burst. Her legs as a unit had been deformed as her weight had given her knock knees sending her legs off at the sides. Her butt was squashed flat as the bottom layer of blubber. Her belly, the biggest asset was in two folds, the bottom liquid one covering her pelvis and the top one overflowed at the sides and perched on top. Her belly button had been pushed off center by the massive amount of tissue in her abdomen. Her gut was carpeted in stretch marks, old and new, and the underside of her belly was the brown color of toughed chaffed skin. Her breasts were tucked up and covered by a sheet.
Lena continued "I'm going to be posting videos on how I live, if you an call it living, at this size, and what little life hacks my husband and I have discovered to help me survive."
They watched as it uploaded and then went to bed not expecting very much.
But out there in the world of the internet a person with a certain type of woman stumbled onto the video and posted it to a certain page where a bunch more people watched it.
Friday, February 3, 2017
Amber At Home - (Fiction)
Amber glared up at the 4 men and a woman clustered around her. One was her husband, Frank, and he looked worried. She wanted to smack him. He should know what was going on, hell everyone there except him knew it. The EMTs knew it. She could see it in their eyes.
Her husband had called Julian Ambulance directly because the surrounding neighbors were used to them by now. Last week it had been for severe back pain. The week before had included 4 days of transports counting one to the doctor, a doctor who'd despaired of her health and wrote prescriptions to try to extend her useless life. Today she couldn't get off the toilet. Well not the toilet she hadn't sat on that porcelain monstrosity in over 3 years. It was her bariatric commode. She had know this day would come ever since she'd given up on loosing weight 2 years back and had watched her health get worse.
Simply she was too fat to stand up. Her body couldn't support her weight. In fact she was amazed she'd made it to the commode. She'd barely been able to take the three steps. She'd urinated and tried to pull herself up with her walker but her legs wouldn't obey. She'd waited a minute, taking deep breaths through her nasal cannula and tried again. She'd gotten her husband in and they'd tried but it was no use. So now the EMTs, all of them looked to be slightly younger then she was at 30. One of them, a sandy haired guy who needed a hair cut and a shave, crouched down to get to her eye level. "So we're going to help you stand up. Do you think you can pivot?"
Amber, still catching her breath took a deep breath in through her nasal cannula sucking oxygen through the thin plastic. "No." She said.
The EMT nodded. "Ok. We're going to stand you up, move the commode, and slide the cot behind you in it's place."
Amber didn't like that. Sitting, with her mass of flesh at rest was bad enough she didn't even want to think about getting to her feet. But she had no choice. Three of the EMTs braced themselves. One took her hands and the other two got under each arm with their gloved hands. She bit her lip and their hands dug into her overstretched sensitive skin compressing the fat of her upper arms. Frank got a hold of the commode and on a three count she tried to push off the floor. The EMTs pulled her to her feet and she stood there gasping her knees, ankles, hips, and back filled with shooting pain. She felt her nipples harden. Her knees were on the verge of giving out as the scrapping of the commode being dragged back came through and she felt the stretcher of the metal bump into the back of her thighs. She slowly collapsed backwards wheezing. Everyone took a break and then she was helped into a lying down position with her two swollen legs as close together as possible. The EMTs strapped her tightly to the cot so she didn't lean to one side. Her oxygen got switched over and she was taken outside.
One of the EMTs opened the back of the ambulance pulling out a sort of claw. It was a "powerload" which, according to the companies website, could lift a total of 700lbs. The hydraulic lift raised her inside with two EMTs helping lift, and they headed for the hospital.
Propped up in bed, her folds washed and dried, she tried not to cry. Frank was currently talking with a doctor outside and as usual she felt so guilty that she'd put him through this. Instead of living in a wonderful house on his salary he made as a lawyer they lived in a small bungalow with the living room converted to a sick room with a bariatric hospital bed, oxygen concentrator, commode, and piles of supplies with his paycheck going to the massive expense of keeping her alive.
The doctor turned leaving Frank by himself. Frank had given to doctor the impression he was a dimwitted enabler who didn't have the heart to deny his wife anything she wanted. Which was another reason he suspected the doctor was recommending this. He probably figured some separation would help Frank get out from being an enabler. Guilt knawed at him. Unknown to everyone Frank was incredibly turned on by his wife's increasing helplessness and, yes, he could admit it to himself, impending death. To Frank the unhealthier his wife was the better.
The doctor left the room and Amber lay stunned. Congestive Heart Failure? But how! It was controlled, she was taking numerous water pills, she shouldn't be having this problem. But she knew it was what the doctor had said. Her uncontrolled diet was causing liquid retention causing increased pressure on her heart and lungs and swelling in her legs. They wanted to move her to a Nursing Home for rehab. Mostly to control her diet. She hated the thought of controlled intake, no, she thought, not hated, FEARED, not getting food when she felt hungry. Nevertheless that was how it was going to be. Frank hugged her and she started crying. At age 32 all 641 pounds of her were being admitted to a nursing home.
Her husband had called Julian Ambulance directly because the surrounding neighbors were used to them by now. Last week it had been for severe back pain. The week before had included 4 days of transports counting one to the doctor, a doctor who'd despaired of her health and wrote prescriptions to try to extend her useless life. Today she couldn't get off the toilet. Well not the toilet she hadn't sat on that porcelain monstrosity in over 3 years. It was her bariatric commode. She had know this day would come ever since she'd given up on loosing weight 2 years back and had watched her health get worse.
Simply she was too fat to stand up. Her body couldn't support her weight. In fact she was amazed she'd made it to the commode. She'd barely been able to take the three steps. She'd urinated and tried to pull herself up with her walker but her legs wouldn't obey. She'd waited a minute, taking deep breaths through her nasal cannula and tried again. She'd gotten her husband in and they'd tried but it was no use. So now the EMTs, all of them looked to be slightly younger then she was at 30. One of them, a sandy haired guy who needed a hair cut and a shave, crouched down to get to her eye level. "So we're going to help you stand up. Do you think you can pivot?"
Amber, still catching her breath took a deep breath in through her nasal cannula sucking oxygen through the thin plastic. "No." She said.
The EMT nodded. "Ok. We're going to stand you up, move the commode, and slide the cot behind you in it's place."
Amber didn't like that. Sitting, with her mass of flesh at rest was bad enough she didn't even want to think about getting to her feet. But she had no choice. Three of the EMTs braced themselves. One took her hands and the other two got under each arm with their gloved hands. She bit her lip and their hands dug into her overstretched sensitive skin compressing the fat of her upper arms. Frank got a hold of the commode and on a three count she tried to push off the floor. The EMTs pulled her to her feet and she stood there gasping her knees, ankles, hips, and back filled with shooting pain. She felt her nipples harden. Her knees were on the verge of giving out as the scrapping of the commode being dragged back came through and she felt the stretcher of the metal bump into the back of her thighs. She slowly collapsed backwards wheezing. Everyone took a break and then she was helped into a lying down position with her two swollen legs as close together as possible. The EMTs strapped her tightly to the cot so she didn't lean to one side. Her oxygen got switched over and she was taken outside.
One of the EMTs opened the back of the ambulance pulling out a sort of claw. It was a "powerload" which, according to the companies website, could lift a total of 700lbs. The hydraulic lift raised her inside with two EMTs helping lift, and they headed for the hospital.
Propped up in bed, her folds washed and dried, she tried not to cry. Frank was currently talking with a doctor outside and as usual she felt so guilty that she'd put him through this. Instead of living in a wonderful house on his salary he made as a lawyer they lived in a small bungalow with the living room converted to a sick room with a bariatric hospital bed, oxygen concentrator, commode, and piles of supplies with his paycheck going to the massive expense of keeping her alive.
The doctor turned leaving Frank by himself. Frank had given to doctor the impression he was a dimwitted enabler who didn't have the heart to deny his wife anything she wanted. Which was another reason he suspected the doctor was recommending this. He probably figured some separation would help Frank get out from being an enabler. Guilt knawed at him. Unknown to everyone Frank was incredibly turned on by his wife's increasing helplessness and, yes, he could admit it to himself, impending death. To Frank the unhealthier his wife was the better.
The doctor left the room and Amber lay stunned. Congestive Heart Failure? But how! It was controlled, she was taking numerous water pills, she shouldn't be having this problem. But she knew it was what the doctor had said. Her uncontrolled diet was causing liquid retention causing increased pressure on her heart and lungs and swelling in her legs. They wanted to move her to a Nursing Home for rehab. Mostly to control her diet. She hated the thought of controlled intake, no, she thought, not hated, FEARED, not getting food when she felt hungry. Nevertheless that was how it was going to be. Frank hugged her and she started crying. At age 32 all 641 pounds of her were being admitted to a nursing home.
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
Introduction
This blog is on the subject of extreme obesity. Rather then ignoring the dark aspects of SSBBW Fetishism this blog wallows in it. This blog contains both Fiction and Non Fiction Material. If you don't want to be here, if this isn't your thing and you don't want to know don't go further.
To Everyone: Presume all content is 18+/Adult Only and Not Safe For Work. All posts are about people who are adults. Submitting any images, videos, fiction, or anything that could be taken for child pornography will be you banned and reported. I understand I'm screwed in the head but I'm not that screwed in the head and if you are please go elsewhere.
If you are curious (As in not into the fetish but learning) about the fetish in general or health problems faced by the obese, morbidly obese, and super morbidly obese, welcome. I'm sure there will be few of you. If it's not tagged fiction and tagged Information in the title and you're looking for information then it's what you're looking for. Remember everything on here is my own opinion.
If you are a BBW/SSBBW/BHM/SSBHM welcome. Once again information will have (Information) in the title. Fiction will have (Fiction) in the title. Please please please if you have personal experience, advice for other people, or anecdotes please leave a comment. If we get anything interesting I'll copy and paste your comment and repost it with (Comment -SSBBW/SSBHM) in the title. Please sign your comment with whatever one you identify as: BBW/SSBBW/BHM/SSBHM.
If you are a fellow fetisher welcome. Feel free to comment and submit your stories or anecdotes. I know this is the bottom of the page but this blog is for you.
Thank you for your time. Enjoy
To Everyone: Presume all content is 18+/Adult Only and Not Safe For Work. All posts are about people who are adults. Submitting any images, videos, fiction, or anything that could be taken for child pornography will be you banned and reported. I understand I'm screwed in the head but I'm not that screwed in the head and if you are please go elsewhere.
If you are under 18 (Or not an adult yet in your home country) I understand you may be curious or have the impulse to click through but I don't want to corrupt you or be responsible for your parents/guardians discovering something you don't want them too. Instead email your questions or comments to me here: bbwsinthewild@gmail.com.
Obviously I can't stop you from clicking through but I've given you an alternative so now it's up to you.If you are curious (As in not into the fetish but learning) about the fetish in general or health problems faced by the obese, morbidly obese, and super morbidly obese, welcome. I'm sure there will be few of you. If it's not tagged fiction and tagged Information in the title and you're looking for information then it's what you're looking for. Remember everything on here is my own opinion.
If you are a BBW/SSBBW/BHM/SSBHM welcome. Once again information will have (Information) in the title. Fiction will have (Fiction) in the title. Please please please if you have personal experience, advice for other people, or anecdotes please leave a comment. If we get anything interesting I'll copy and paste your comment and repost it with (Comment -SSBBW/SSBHM) in the title. Please sign your comment with whatever one you identify as: BBW/SSBBW/BHM/SSBHM.
If you are a fellow fetisher welcome. Feel free to comment and submit your stories or anecdotes. I know this is the bottom of the page but this blog is for you.
Thank you for your time. Enjoy
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